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! 

Lesson Seven: Learning to trust water

From Beth:
Once a wise sage told me to always begin any new experience with enthusiasm. The vibration in the energy is much higher than doubt and fear. 

Lesson 7

Beth showed me how to “swim” on my side doing a scissor’s kick. At first she turned my hips for me, I let her float me, as I turned from my hips, every part of my body--except my head down, eyes focused on the center line below me.  I blew bubbles through my nose and came up for air when I needed it. 

The movements clicked. I could do the side kick, I was moving in the water. I was so excited and kept asking, “Can I try it one more time?” I tried it on my left side, on my right. I was so excited, this felt like swimming [without the breathing]. I felt like Beth was excited for me too. I didn’t want to stop.

Beth tried having me move my arms too, keeping my hands soft--not like a cobra head ready to strike. The arm and hand movements were harder for me to coordinate, but I promised myself I would keep practicing this. Beth helped me see that I was moving my upper arm too soon [one hand should be in the visual box above my head before I move the other]. The challenges with my arms didn’t diminish my excitement over learning to swim on my side.

After last week’s lesson I went home to my art studio and painted a boneless little mermaid, a reminder to keep my arms loose, to stay comfortable in the water like a mermaid in her element. 

In practice this past week, I tried to imitate real swimmers, moving my arms more like a “classic” swim stroke. It made me move faster and felt great. But I wished I knew how to breathe without standing up, like a real swimmer. I couldn’t wait to practice this sidekick stuff.

Just as my lesson was ending, a tiny girl entered the poolroom and ran to Beth, her father trailing her. She looked like the littlest Who of all in Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch Who Stole Christmas---except in a miniature wetsuit vest and swimsuit. She hugged Beth like she had known her for years. Beth bent down and asked, “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

First lesson? That was an attitude! It was a delight watching this child’s eagerness to get in the pool. She showed zero anxiety. Within a few minutes Beth floated the toddler across the pool. The girl grinned and laughed the whole way. She seemed as natural as a little mermaid.

I thought that’s how I want to approach my lesson, my swim practice—with absolute joy and trust.

Cindy' Story-The restorative power of water

From Beth:
Cindy is the student who taught me the value in having students keep a log after each swim lesson. Her diligence and dedication to her swimming continues to amaze me. This is someone who has never been comfortable in deep water, yet the pool where she swims has a 10 foot deep end. She will not let anything stop her from reaching her goal. 


Interview with Cindy as told to Shoney

I grew up on a farm in eastern Colorado. We had a well for crops. Water came out of a big pipe and went into a rocky, sandy area. That was fantastic because it was so hot in the summer.  As kids we used to go and play in it, but I never learned the art of swimming. 

For a number of years my time and energy was devoted to taking care of my elderly father. After he passed away, I remember thinking there’s one thing I really want to do--I want to get comfortable in the water. I want to be able to snorkel and not have fear. Throughout the years I had built up a big wall, a tough obstacle. I needed help. 

I didn’t want to do group lessons again where they all launch into the freestyle. Or I’d start off floating really well and then the rest of the class would just leave me in the dust. It was always the same thing. The instructors never gave clear directions. I called around and sent some emails and was eventually referred to Beth. 

I wondered, “Is this going to be the same old thing?” But, I read Beth’s profile and thought, “ Wow, she is a fifty-something woman, maybe this is what I need.” Beth’s background and accomplishments were very physical. I liked that. I kept telling myself, “I can do this.” 

I arrived 45 minutes early for my first lesson. Before when I would go to the rec center to swim if I pulled into the parking lot and it was full, I would say, “The pool is going to be packed so I’m not going in.” It was a good excuse. 

I went to the wrong door, the opposite end from the pool—but I kept thinking, “I need to go, I need to go. I need to be there.” 

I found the locker room, got into my swimsuit and it felt like everyone was watching because I was an adult and didn’t know how to swim. 

When Beth said, “Hi,” and asked me how I was feeling--immediately I thought she was a good fit for me.

Beth didn’t know at that point how great my fear was. She does a good job reading body language. I could float and swim on my back but I didn’t know what to do on the front. I could float for a couple of minutes and then I had to stand up. As we went on--being in the water face down and breathing bubbles—I was holding back. I thought I wasn’t afraid because I could put my feet down, yet I had an inclination to pull away. 

I had never learned how to relax in the water. Beth could see my fear. My reaction showed her this wall of fear. She helped me overcome that. She taught me to work on relaxation, to go with the water and not just wear myself out. 

I’d go to the shallow end and practice, acquainting myself with the feeling of water in different ways--under the water, having fun with it, looking at people’s legs as they were swimming or doing water aerobics. I had skipped playing in the water other than in farm ditches. 

Sometimes the concept comes to me much later. I woke up one morning and thought, “You know what? My practice feels like somebody is chasing me”. Practice is not supposed to be like that. I love going to my lessons with Beth. She’s so calm and she doesn’t rush me through it---and that’s how practice should be. You are not supposed to be going crazy and trying to be a master swimmer. 

I don’t know how long it took before I felt confident enough to take a lane. It was huge. I would tell the lifeguard that I was learning and ask if could they watch me. 

Some days I still lock up, I’m out of sorts, so I’ll go back to blowing bubbles under water, jumping off into the five-foot area, floating face down and turning over. I’m working on freestyle, on the breathing piece. I always finish with my trusty backstroke.  

Beth has a great voice, soothing and even. I stop and think, “What did Beth tell me?” I can hear her voice. She gives you time to make a mistake, then tells you how to fix it and gives you time to fix it. I go through my body pieces to re-connect, to make myself work as one instead of Pinocchio-style. Beth taught me that. 

Beth recognizes when I’m ready to do something new before I do. 

After each lesson I write everything thing down to help me remember. I laugh at some of the things I used to do. No wonder I didn’t go anywhere in the water.

I always thought the door was shut, that swimming was the one thing I couldn’t do and the one thing I really wanted to do. Beth uncovered so many things, has opened so many doors--over time the little things add up to a lot. She’s done an excellent job of peeling the onion. 

Learning to swim is such a breakthrough for me, such an achievement. 

Lesson Six-Success

From Beth: 
Success is contagious, builds confidence and sets up a state for receptivity. Her eyes were filled with excitement like a puppy discovering being off-leash for the first time. 

“I did it! I did it!” 

In lesson six Beth showed me how to roll from my belly, blowing bubbles through my nose, and return back on my back. I’d tried this before and never could do it without a nose full of water—but I suddenly did it.  Then I begged Beth to let me try it again and again, full of joy that I could do it! I got it! 

I’ve been watching kids at the pool lately, watching how they learn. There are two tiny girls, maybe one and two years old, who jump repeatedly from the edge of the deep end into the water and swim to their mother’s open arms. They laugh in the water, look like sleek little seals. A little boy turns over and over and over, from back to front to back again, sideways top. I want to learn like a kid. I imitate them—even as they imitate each other. Turning over, making big arm movements, kicking, doing “jumping jacks” while floating on my back. Pretending to swim—this seems to work well for me--trying movements the way it looks like “real” swimmers do. Beginning readers pretend to read, why not beginning swimmers pretending to swim?

Sometimes I “channel”—try to imagine myself with the confidence of my 13-year old niece Gabriella, a champion swimmer and triathlete. When she was two and half, my sister called and tearfully reported that Gabriella couldn’t swim yet—I assured her that Gabriella would learn and she quickly did. On one visit to their Texas home, 5-year old Gabriella patiently tried to teach me to swim [she swam with the ease of an otter by then]. Patiently she demonstrated the same moves over and over, letting me practice, moving my arms for me. If I lived closer to Gabriella, I might have learned to swim years ago. 

Every lesson Beth helps me adjust my head, my neck, and my hips into a more relaxed position. Relaxation in the pool doesn’t come naturally to me. She helps me move my arms more gracefully. I think of the mermaid painting in my bathroom with the floaty arms and that becomes my visual. Beth kicks my legs for me, while I float high on the water, near the of the surface.

Last week I was in the California high desert where between hikes, I delighted in the Mt. Whitney hotel pool--“swimming” under water. Carol did laps in the deep end one day, but another she huddled on the edge with the bunch of European guests—the water too cold, while I was that blue-lipped kid who wouldn’t leave the pool even when it began to rain, until forced out because of lightning. 

After my lesson, I got into the car with my partner and announced: I did it! I got it! I flipped from one side to the other and breathed! The child-like; “I got it!” exuberant joy stayed with me for days.