Mom, can I have a floaty?
Each and every time I enter the open water I am anxious. Mentally I tell myself the water is 4 feet deep and if I need to I can stop and stand at anytime. This is never true, of course, although there were portions of the swim at the Cancun 70.3 Ironman last year where the water was so shallow my hands were scraping the seaweed (and I spotted other triathletes walking). Trust that most swimming venues are deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep water swims. How deep? Four feet deep, don't ruin my denial.
I have no confidence when I am standing at the shoreline. Despite the miles of practice, the hours of training and coaching, and the fact that I sign up for these events under my own volition, I am at full palpable angst. My confidence comes stroke by stroke when I accept and realize that I can--that I am--indeed swimming.
As if the self inflicted angst is not enough, I am disturbed if I see a fish while swimming--really disturbed. Once, while competing I came around a buoy in rough waters and saw something huge and black under me. I had a moment of panic but as my eyes eventually focused and my mind processed the improbability of it being a rather large fish, I realized it was one of the race photographers in scuba gear.
If I can overcome my loss of confidence, and distaste for large fish, there is also the third element of the water. Always there is physical contact. I never initiate the contact but when someone kicks me, or more commonly swims over me, I make sure they "feel" me. My experience in single sex competition is different from that of coed competition. Women when they bump into you stop and apologize. Men, however, just keep swimming over you. As if I need help drowning.
So this is a window on my thought process in the water. If the water is cold enough (thus, wetsuit eligible) I think of my wetsuit as my floaty. Alternatively, I try to think back to the days when my floaty and my parents kept me safe in the water. On July 22, at the edge of Mirror Lake, if you hear someone say, "Mom, can I have a floaty" you know where it is coming from.
I have no confidence when I am standing at the shoreline. Despite the miles of practice, the hours of training and coaching, and the fact that I sign up for these events under my own volition, I am at full palpable angst. My confidence comes stroke by stroke when I accept and realize that I can--that I am--indeed swimming.
As if the self inflicted angst is not enough, I am disturbed if I see a fish while swimming--really disturbed. Once, while competing I came around a buoy in rough waters and saw something huge and black under me. I had a moment of panic but as my eyes eventually focused and my mind processed the improbability of it being a rather large fish, I realized it was one of the race photographers in scuba gear.
If I can overcome my loss of confidence, and distaste for large fish, there is also the third element of the water. Always there is physical contact. I never initiate the contact but when someone kicks me, or more commonly swims over me, I make sure they "feel" me. My experience in single sex competition is different from that of coed competition. Women when they bump into you stop and apologize. Men, however, just keep swimming over you. As if I need help drowning.
So this is a window on my thought process in the water. If the water is cold enough (thus, wetsuit eligible) I think of my wetsuit as my floaty. Alternatively, I try to think back to the days when my floaty and my parents kept me safe in the water. On July 22, at the edge of Mirror Lake, if you hear someone say, "Mom, can I have a floaty" you know where it is coming from.
posted by Liz @ 6:47 PM
<< Home