Lesson Thirteen-Holding on to one's Dream

Lately I’ve been focusing on getting my legs and my lower body higher in the water and trying to kick harder, so that I can hear the water splashing. When I try to kick it is hard work, I have to stop, panting by the edge of the pool. I think of my legs as so powerful from years of running but in the water they are not nearly as strong as on land.

Beth taught me to swim on my back with both arms up in the air, then down into the water, trying to kick twenty times between each arm stroke. It's called double-arm backstroke. I can kick about 10 times before I have to move my arms again which is an improvement—it means I can hold myself up on my back and move in the water just by kicking which isn’t something I could do before. 

Swimming--I have a hard time writing the word when it applies to what I am doing because it is so clumsy--on my back is easier for me than on my front. When I am on my front I can’t breathe on my left side, though I can on my right. This frustrates me. I wonder if I will ever figure it out.

I’m looking forward to the day that I go to the pool as my touchstone, the way I go to running. I run for comfort, as meditation. It reduces anxiety and allows me to mull over ideas and gives me pleasure. Since swimming doesn’t come naturally to me, I go to the pool often, 5 or 6 days a week, sometimes I think I should get a prize for going so frequently.

Recently one of my mentors, a professor who changed my life by helping me become a teacher, a better parent and a writer died unexpectedly. I thought about him while I swam—stunned by his death. Then I did what he would have advised, I wrote about it. He helped me become a better teacher by modeling good teaching, by helping me find/hear the voice of each student. He made me a better student too—by appreciating my background and all the quirks that make me who I am. He believed I could accomplish my dreams—he dreamed them with me and was invested in my accomplishing them. He allowed me to envision my future best self through his eyes. 

I cried while swimming.

I think Beth sees the swimmer in me, even when I don’t—and she honors who I am, and where I am each week. She holds the vision so I can become the swimmer that I am meant to be.

Lesson Twelve: Finding a bathing suit

I wonder how many people—especially women don’t learn to swim or know how but don’t do it because finding a sensible and comfortable but not frumpy swimsuit is almost impossible?

Recently I met my friend Rachel for Happy Hour after my swim class and she laughingly told me how a woman approached her once after she got out of the pool and said, “I hate to tell you but your swimsuit is falling apart in the back, almost transparent.” This led me to check out the back of my very comfortable, decent-looking swimsuit, yikes—not yet transparent but clearly nearing the point where it might split during a swim class. I threw out the swimsuit at the locker room so I wouldn’t be tempted to wear it again.

Initially I felt proudly amused that I’d worn out a swimsuit, another first in my swimming adventures. Then I began to shop. The first issue was that most of the shops take swimsuits off their shelves in November—I’ve had good luck in the past getting Speedo, Nike or others for a reasonable price. No luck. Next I went to the sport’s stores, most of them had already removed their suits—the few suits left were cut so high in the thigh I couldn’t imagine that they would look good on anyone, of any shape. When I went to the specialty swim store, I found this same horrible cut, way up the thigh combined with the back being cut so low that I felt like a plumber [sorry plumber’s].

Finally, my partner and I went out of town specifically to shop for suits. I tried on at least ten, always with the same problem---cut too high in the thigh, too low in the back, so frumpy that I felt like I was out of the ‘50s. It was pretty depressing. I finally found a suit that fit okay, though the pink design wouldn’t have been my first color choice. I called my partner in to see if she thought the suit would do—she stared not at the suit but my arms “Look at your biceps! You have so much muscle in your arms”---I looked into the mirror again, I had been giving myself such a hard time over my belly, my butt, the stupid cut of the suits—and here was this precious new prize, muscles!

What do I want in a suit? I want to get in the pool and move, swim, without worrying that body parts are hanging out or crawling up. I want to be comfortable and focus on learning to swim.  Is that too much to ask? It is hard work to learn to swim, it is involves a lot of courage and risk—the swimsuit shouldn’t be part of that.

Lesson Eleven: Swimming Backstroke

I did, I did it! That great feeling again!

This week after my lesson with Beth I went to the pool every day to practice except one day when my arms were just too sore and I thought it best to rest up before my next lesson.

At my last lesson Beth asked if I had made it across the pool yet and that got me thinking. I hadn’t and I wanted to. I made getting across the pool, on my back, in breathing position, rotating from side to side without changing my head position my goal. So I went into the pool, day after day, practice after practice, nose full of water over and over. 

At Thursday’s practice I got into the pool and right away, I completed my first lap across the pool on my back. I was so excited, but then couldn’t do it again. I was able to complete 4 or 5 strokes, staring up at the ceiling, trying so hard and then I began to sink, my nose full of water, so far off balance I had to stand up. But I kept trying, over and over again. What is wrong? I think it is everything, keeping my body in balance, keeping my head correctly positioned—and my arms, they are throwing everything out of whack. The harder I try the less relaxed I become, the harder it is.

At Friday’s practice again immediately after I entered the pool, I went across on my back feeling relaxed and happy the whole way. I wanted to shout with joy, wanted to say to someone, “Did you see that?” But then I lost it—my sense of relaxation, my balance with it and could only get in 4—5—6 strokes in a row before falling apart and having to stand up. Still, every couple of times I started the length I was able to complete it, eventually doing five lengths---not in a row, but still—I did it. Ecstasy!

On Saturday I completed a length and then another---two in a row.  I had the whole pool to myself and I loved the quiet seclusion. It was snowing outside and the poolroom was dark because the windows had fogged up. I tried to complete another length, failed repeatedly and then just before I got out of the pool I did it—once, twice, three times, then four times in a row without sinking, without getting a nose full of water, without stopping and standing up for breath.

When I finally got out of the pool, my arms and shoulders ached. I was thrilled and sore and excited about the much-needed breakthrough after some tough weeks. 

Lesson Nine and Ten: Regaining inspiration

I kept reminding myself that when things are most frustrating--that is often the point right before a big breakthrough. 

I watched a toddler recently learning to walk, edging along shelves and the couch in, once in awhile taking a step without noticing it---and then suddenly he was walking and within a few days running. But of course, he wasn’t thinking, “I want to walk, oh, I’m so ready to walk, when am I going to be able to walk?”

After I returned from London, got over a bad cold---I was determined to reclaim my joy and comfort in the water. But I also wanted to feel some progress—I felt like I hadn’t made any breakthroughs [though I had] and was impatient.

In my next two lessons, two days in a row to make up for my missed lesson--Beth showed helped me work on my sidekick, in breathing position for learning backstroke.  Switching from side to side, but not changing my head. She held my head in the correct position and let me do the rotating. As I kicked, I’d count to ten with one arm by my side and the other above my head- like at eleven or one o'clock if the top of my head was twelve;  take one stroke and rotate to the other side—pivot my body but not my head. With Beth helping me, I could do this. It felt wonderful. I was getting the experience of swimming on my side/back and felt a rush of joy and excitement. But when Beth let go I could only keep going for a few turns and then things would fall apart. Beth reminded me that most of the people she teaches have a hard time learning breathing position of understanding the arm position that made me feel not so different.

I focused on my top arm, trying to feel the weight of my arm coming over my body. I tried to keep it relaxed.  My movements were too big, too clumsy. I’d jerk my head back and get a nose full of water over and over. Beth reminded me the top arm had to be relaxed---when she tried to move my arm sometimes she couldn’t because there was too much resistance.  But knowing that the arm has to be relaxed is not the same as knowing how to relax it. 

I loved the sensation when Beth helped me move. It showed me how it could feel---if I could just get there. I tried to go slower. I counted. I got dunked---my nose full of water over and over. Beth suggested a nose plug. I bought one but haven’t used it yet, feeling it would be a failure. Carol said all the greats use them. “Really” I asked, “Michael Phelps?” “Well, Esther Williams” she said.

The timing for the two lessons in a row was the perfect balance after my hard time. I had two days of breathing position, of sidekick, of having Beth support my head---of enjoying the water again, of being inspired. I wanted to practice again. 

Lesson Eight-Vertigo, Flu and Life

It can’t all be fun—learning to swim, learning anything.  In Lesson 8, I hit a big bump followed by a few weeks of struggle and doubt. 

Part of it was timing. October was full of wonderful life events--but still time-consuming, exhausting. I hosted my first Open Studios, two weekends jam-packed with art lovers visiting my studio---a success far beyond what I had hoped for.  Then a quick flight to London for my only child’s wedding- moving, exciting and fun but emotionally exhausting in addition to the 8 hour flight each way, trapped with hundreds of coughing people and the time adjustment.

I went to Lesson 8 (after Open Studios and before my trip to London) with the excitement and joy I’ve gotten to used to feeling before each lesson, though I had practiced only once between lessons. 

Beth was moving my hips and legs for the kicks, and I was making sure I could see my arm and hand in the imaginary box in front of my head while the other came forward in the air preparing to enter the water. She asked me “If I could feel the weight of my stroking arm coming up and over? Was I bending my wrist like the head of a cobra, a tight fist, or letting my hands be loose and wrist straight?

Beth was turning me over and over—I was thrilled because I was breathing and moving my arms and kicking and so excited to be doing something that felt close to swimming, when suddenly the world tipped and I felt sick to my stomach. I recognized the severe vertigo as it hit. I’d experienced it a few times in the past, absolutely hate it and never want to experience it again. I thought the feeling might pass and I so wanted to keep experimenting and experiencing swimming, the rolling over—and then it hit again, the world tipping and stomach dropping. I had to stop my lesson and felt extremely nauseous walking back to the locker room. Taking a shower was a challenge, the world continued to tilt and rock. 

I didn’t want to drive home in this state. I sat in my car crying---freaked out and afraid that this would be the reason I wouldn’t learn to swim. 

When I got home my partner, Carol, saw how pale and sick I looked and didn’t have to insist I lay down immediately.

I came down with a bad case of the flu. It stayed with me the next 4 days. 

After the flu passed, I made myself go back to the pool to practice. I didn’t feel the ease or excitement that I’d come to expect. I felt sad and apprehensive and angry that I’d had vertigo and that it had left me feeling uncertain. 

For the first time I approached my next lesson with apprehension and fear, afraid that I would experience nauseating vertigo.

Between Open Studios and flying to London for my daughter’s wedding—I was going to miss a lesson, that is have a two week break between lessons for the first and probably the worst time in terms of my confidence. I felt funny showing up at lesson 9, having gotten into the pool only once between lessons.

Beth was very careful with me. She didn’t want me to do anything that might trigger the vertigo. She didn’t have me flip over. I worked on my sidekick. I worked on my breathing position. Some of the apprehension began evaporating. I still was weak from the flu and took it easy. I didn’t experience the vertigo.

Beth suggested I get earplugs to prevent me from getting water in my ears, which might cause vertigo. Being in the pool with earplugs was different. It made me focus internally---like mediation, instead of being hyper-aware of, or distracted by the sounds or silence of the poolroom.

In this lesson I can do the breathing position so much easier when kicking or starting on my right side than on my left side. I can only do two or three strokes before I have to stand up again to breathe, before the whole thing falls apart. I collaspe at my waist or tip my head too far back or forward. I forget what I should be doing with my arms. Anything that can be off seems to fall apart in that third for fourth stroke. Beth suggests it is the tightness in my neck sometimes and other times it is the weakness of my left side. When she positions my head I can do it—on my own, my side position falls apart. 

How do I get rid of the lifelong tightness in my neck? I’ve been trying to do slow circles with my head. My partner massages my neck. I don’t know if this is making a difference. Is being more aware of it a good start?

I’m trying to pay attention and acknowledge the weakness in my left side and not be so critical of it, or ignore it. Carol points out that most people have a side that is much weaker which makes me feel less weird about it. 

I didn’t tell Beth how sad and frustrated I’d felt after the last lesson. I felt betrayed by my body and I was afraid that maybe I really couldn’t learn to swim. These kinds of things don’t slip by Beth though. At the end of the lesson she gave me a hug. It made me feel like she wasn’t giving up on me---that she believed I would learn to swim.  So far, the flu was the cause of the vertigo because it hasn't returned. 

Beth's Journey Back to Swimming

After my climbing accident in October of 2010, at age fifty-three, I was counting on water to help put back together my broken spirit and body.  My body had always recognized water as an old friend when I needed to heal from an injury, not to mention almost fifty years of swimming under my belt.

Not this time. The first time I got in the water after my stitches were removed, my limbs did not know what to do. Putting my face in the water caused panic. My nervous system freaked out.

I quickly became aware of how lost my body felt and for the first time in my life, I experienced anxiety from being in a pool. No part of me recognized water as a place of sanctuary.

In total shock and disbelief, I tried to hold back the tears, but couldn't. This was my moment of truth.  The severity of my accident hit home hard. I left the pool speechless and dejected.

In retrospect, it was unfair to myself to expect my body to be the same.  How could it be? When I fell, I broke my neck, most of my ribs on my left side, my sacrum, bones in my hip, lower back, foot, arm, and collar bone as well as tore my ACL, punctured a lung and sustained a mild head injury. It has taken almost three years to be able to swim continuous with both arms and to be pain-free.

This video shows my progression. I included some footage that I had from summer of 2010.  I did not include any of the 10 months of swimming I did only with my left arm while I waited for my range of motion to return in my right shoulder.  I never expected to have to rehab from two frozen shoulders along with the 27 fractures!


My relationship with water started early in life. Even though I have no memories of learning how to swim, I do remember my first swim meet as a six year old.   Even now, I can still recall the drive and desire I experienced in that first race. I swam 25 yards of freestyle all out, maybe took one breath and immediately fell in love with competing.

By age nine, I started to compete year round. I looked forward to going to swim practice. I LOVED feeling exhausted and limp.  My spirit thrived on being a fierce competitor---something that I kept   central in my life by swimming with a team through high-school, during college and with Boulder Aquatic Masters, starting in the 1980's.

It was in my early twenties that I learned about my "other relationship" to water. It happened on the day I received the news about my parents divorce.  On that day in NYC, during a swim at a pool in the basement of St. Bartholomew's Church, I became aware of being held by the water.  The longer I swam the more I realized that being in water was a sacred and healing refuge for my soul.  The absence of noise allowed me to connect with my own inner quiet. In that place I found calm and clarity. This connection is what has allowed me to keep moving forward during my long recovery. All the time I've spent in water doing PT exercises, floating and compromised swimming has given me the ability to recognize the value in staying curious about what the future holds and what is possible. This process has also taught me how to be a better swimming instructor.  I now have more compassion and understanding of what it feels like to be self-conscious, frustrated and discouraged.

Summertime is a special time of year for me. It symbolizes freedom, joy and play. During my childhood I spent every day at the pool from 6am till 6pm. I would be the last kid out of the water in a thunderstorm. The first one in when a game of sharks and minnows started up, and I was the kid at camp who always signed up for all the water sports activities: sailing, canoeing, diving and swimming.
My being needs lots of time in water. It is such a relief to be able to be outdoors this summer swimming with Masters again. It feels like a huge milestone.  I am so grateful to be a part of the swimming community again, to have Jane coaching me and to have rediscovered playing in the water.

For the longest time during re-hab, my biggest worry was whether I would ever be able to train HARD and swim fast again, and lead my lane.  It's too soon to know and may never happen. For now, I am content with being able to participate. Just to be okay with participating is also a milestone.

November 17, 2013
Finally, I am able to swim hard. Today I swam a set of 10 x 100 on 1:45. I got a few 100's down to 1:17. I was blown away that my body could do this. I love swimming hard. And, I still have to check in with every effort. Over the summer, I swam a few times with Masters and found that it was too much. Now I am spending the Winter swimming on my own and plan to join Masters again in the summer. Two days a week, I swim easy and focus on drills. One day a week, I swim hard for a total of 3000 yards.

John's Story-A perfectionist who finds compassion

From Beth:
Typically, I start off a new student with learning freestyle and backstroke kicks. After having John see a physical therapist, chiropractor and massage therapist, I concluded that I had to change tactics. The tension in his hips was not ready to release. So, I taught him breast stroke first. 

Interview with John as told to Shoney

The coolest thing is last September I could barely blow bubbles and in February I did the breaststroke for 2 and a half hours nonstop. My wife was ecstatic! 

We’d gone on trips down to Mexico and it was always kind of been a bummer, everyone else is snorkeling and I’m sitting on the beach or I’m out there in a life jacket—I wasn’t really in the water. 

My wife and I used to go to Lake Powell. There were all these coves and everybody else would be jumping off the boat or cliff driving. I was the one babysitting the boat, making sure the beer was cold.

Stigma was part of the reason it took so long--I’ll be the first to admit I felt embarrassed about not being able to swim. So for me to have to go to a swimming pool and take swimming lessons—that was an embarrassment.

I wanted to learn to kayak. One of the stipulations my wife had was I had to learn to swim if I was going to kayak, despite wearing a life jacket. I had always wanted to learn so this push helped. My wife got me a kayak for my birthday, so I researched swim instructors and came across Beth. Her website said she dealt with people who had a fear of deep water. She seemed like the one. I called her up and set up lessons. 

I had a bad experience when I was a little kid. I was at the public pool and somebody pushed me into the deep end—I was close enough to the edge that I could grab on but after that I always had a fear of deep water. My parents remember I’d never go to the pool when I was a kid. My mom wanted me to take lessons, I took them one semester in grade school, but it didn’t click for me.

I wasn’t nervous or scared before my lesson. Even getting in the pool, I knew it was just 4 feet deep, so no worries there. She tested me and found out that I wasn’t comfortable in the water. When Beth had me try to sit down under the water and blow bubbles, I completely froze up. I couldn’t blow the bubbles at all. Beth had me do a couple drills—starting out on my stomach first, just relaxing type. She had me stand up, bend over and put my head in the water a little bit and start blowing bubbles. 

I’m a perfectionist. I put undue pressure on myself, trying to do everything perfectly. After my third lesson, Beth had me describe my practice time and show her what I was doing. She said, “Don’t judge yourself--let me do that. You’re harder on yourself than I am.” It has been a great learning experience to stop putting so much pressure on myself. 

A lot of learning is relaxing and trying to get comfortable with the water. We’re not all built the same. We don’t all react the same in the water or have the same mobility. The greatest thing I can say about Beth is that she adapts her teaching to what people can do. Lots of times she’ll have me do a drill and I just can’t do it--I’m tight in my shoulders or something and she adjusts the drill to fit me. 

Try a couple of different instructors--the biggest thing is having a connection with your instructor. What I love about Beth is she’s very free-spirited. She’s not a drill sergeant—If you yell at someone that stresses them out--she makes it about having fun. That’s important. 

One of the things I had trouble with is getting the kicks down. My wife’s a swimmer--last night we went to the pool and did a couple lengths up and down the pool. I was kicking on my back and my wife was so amazed, she hadn’t seen me swim for a while and she said, “I can’t believe you did that.”

My goal right now is to get the freestyle down. Next summer, or the summer after, I’d like to do a duathlon; biking and swimming.

The more I talk to people, the more people I find who admit they can’t swim. I’ve told people, “You’re never too old to learn.” That’s the great thing, but it’s true.

I went kayaking this summer in the lake. I would have done it before, but I wouldn’t have been very comfortable.

I’ve been thinking about learning how to ski next. Born and raised here in Colorado---everybody skis here—I’m going to try it, though right now my main focus is swimming. 

Swimming is a relaxing part of my life now. If I have a hard day at work, I go to the pool and just swim. The exciting thing is going to water and being able to swim!