Swimming with vitality

I had a series of “a-ha” moments over the past few weeks. The first was while my head was under the water at the pool. The second was while reading “Promoting Vitality in Health and Physical Education” by Stephen J. Smith and Rebecca J. Lloyd. The third was while daydreaming about sunny cycling days.

Actually, I had the same “a-ha” moment three times.

I have realized that the reason I don’t like swimming is because I swim without vitality. To me, swimming is a series of motions that propel me from one end of the pool to the other. There is the kicking: “From the hips Marie! From the hips! You are knock-kneed!” That’s my swim instructor from last fall yelling at me as I chug down the lane. There are the arm strokes: “Relax Marie! Let your arms drag lazily over the water before they plunge in again.” There are the abs: “Engage your abs Marie.  Your trunk is parallel to the water but your legs are diagonal. You look like a check mark in the water!” There are the hands and fingers: “Some like the fingers open to let the water thread through. Some like them close to make a paddle.” There is the breathing: “You need to learn to breathe on both sides. One breath every 3 strokes. Exhale evenly while your head is in the water.” There is the entire body: “You are swimming like a log Marie. You need to torpedo your body. Rotate at the hips with every stroke. Torpedo.”

Finally, there is the mind: “You need to think about your swimming as you swim Marie. Think. Don’t just swim.”

I have come to the conclusion that there is too much thinking involved when I swim. And there is no vitality. It is strictly a mechanical practice.

When I ran, my mind and body were completely connected. It would take the first 500 metres for my mind and body enter a rhythm where my breathing was effortless and my arms and legs would flow from one movement to the next. There was no thinking about movement involved, but there was acknowledgement of the movement and there was enjoyment in the movement. Running was not mechanical, it was natural and easy. I would spend the next 10 kilometres in a trance-like state, yet I never felt more alive and in tune with my inner self, body and surroundings.  I did some of my best thinking and problem solving while running, yet I was completely aware the entire time. My mind was never more actively still than when running. I have never achieved stillness in yoga. Running was the perfect tandem exercise for my mind and body. It was an exercise infused with vitality.

My favourite place to run was the lake. My favourite running partner was my sister. I never went to the lake without her. The trail took us through tall cottonwoods, tunnels of blackberry bramble, through a swamp with skunk cabbage and ended in an over-grown, century old orchard. Each time we ran, we would pass certain places that evoked running memories for me. The smell of the cottonwoods took me back to elementary school cross-country meets. The sight and smell of fungus covered logs made my mind spin with the vast complexities of the environment and natural systems.  The oil slick on the water reminded me of human disregard for nature. At one point, the trail crossed a bridge where we always slowed down to see if the turtle family was sunning itself on the half submerged log. Going to the lake left me physical and mentally invigorated.

Cycling has replaced running. A long, hard ride leaves me physically and mentally stimulated. It leaves me craving more. It hasn’t always been this way. I had fond childhood memories of burning up and down the neighbourhood street on my bike. With the neighbourhood gang, I made ramps and obstacle courses for my bike. We rode for hours on end. When I first got on a bike as an adult, those fond memories taunted me. I didn’t’ remember muscles hurting as a child. I didn’t remember having to learn how to breathe while riding. And who cared if the bike didn’t fit. It got us from point A to point B.  With time, however, and many kilometers of road, this has changed. I now enter the same trance-like state I did while running. My mind and body now have a tandem rhythm- one is not in balance without the other. Cycling is a satisfying physical and mental experience.

I have what the doctors call “exercise induced asthma.” I think it should be called “mechanical movement induced asthma.” I have realized that when I engage in vitalistic practices, I never need the inhaler. When I first started cycling, the inhaler came on every ride. When I ran, it was at home. Forgotten. What does this say about the mind/body connection? What does this say about vitality? Clearly, when my mind and body are working in tandem, there is balance. The asthma is triggered by an imbalance.

So how do I achieve balance and swim with vitality? Can it be achieved through a personal fitness and motor skill development approach? In some ways, I think so. The more I swim, the more I will improve. The more I improve, the more I will enjoy swimming. It can be counting laps and enjoying the feeling of swimming further for a more sustained period of time. It can also be achieved through attitude, and taking pleasure in the bodily experience and satisfaction of that experience (as explained by Smith and Lloyd). It can be achieved by making a date out of going to the pool with my husband.

I know one thing: if I aim to swim like Mr. Smooth, I will never swim with vitality.

The next time I am at the pool, I will think on this. And then try my best not to overthink the swimming!

 

A fish out of water? The struggles of a non-swimmer.

I went swimming today. I hadn’t been in a few months. As I walked out on the pool deck sporting a varsity water polo club swim cap, I imagined everyone in the pool thinking, “Look at that pro who just walked on deck. What is she doing here with that fancy swim cap? Shouldn’t she be training at the club pool, not a public pool?” Yes, I was experiencing delusions of grandeur. The truth is, my best friend had given me the swim cap, and many others, while she was clearing out her swimming closet. She’s a real swimmer.

I’m not a swimmer. I never have been. I was one of those kids who failed each level of swimming lessons at least once. Somehow I made it to the pre-Lifesaving level. And that was the end of my swimming career. Thankfully. You wouldn’t want me to trying to save anyone’s life in the water.

I cautiously made my way into the pool. Cautiously might not be a strong enough word- I can’t see beyond a foot in front of me without my glasses and my googles were making my eyes pop out like a frog’s. Well, frogs like water. Maybe I stood a chance in the water today.

Despite the cautious entry, my delusional mind was still trying to tell me that once I started swimming, everyone was going to be impressed. “Wow! What flawless form! She must have been born swimming.” Not so much. I flailed about for a bit like a fish caught on a line, then decided that I’d ease my way into the “workout” with a kick board…

Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick. Look at the bottom of the pool way down there. Kick. Kick. Kick. Ick water in my mouth. Kick. Kick. Kick. 25 meters! Pant. Pant. Pant. Paaaaaaant. Ok back again. Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick. But I would… Kick. Kick…like to do a triathlon one day. Kick. Kick. You’ve got a long way to go girl. Kick. Kick. 50 meters! Pant. Pant. Pant. Yeah, well we can’t all be Chrissie Wellington on our first try. Pant. Pant. Pant. You’ll never be a Chrissie Wellington if you don’t work for it. Pant. Pant. Pant.

My swim lasted for 250 meters, or 10 “back and forths” as I like to call them. I stopped for a breather every 25 meters, except for the last 50. I pushed myself to swim the whole thing without stopping at the turn around. For me, and my now silenced delusions, that was a success. The entire time, I focused on my technique and tried not to view the experience as an exercise to reach the other side of the pool- for the fish on the line to be pulled ashore. If I was going to improve my swimming and be able to swim long distances, then I would need to proceed slowly. Yes, I want to complete a triathlon, but I’ve got time. I still need to figure out how to run without damaging my back. Other people have leaped bigger hurdles. There must be a way. So there must be a way to learn to swim and to learn to enjoy it. I want to enjoy it.

Last fall I took adult swim lessons. I wanted to learn how to swim again, but I also wanted to end my fear of being underwater. So I literally dove in head first. Being an impatient person and slightly rambunctious, I felt that meeting my fears and dislikes head on would force me to deal with them. I know that I improved over the course of the lessons, but I also know that I still have a long way to go. My husband swims regularly which is incentive for me to go to the pool more often. For me, finding the time and the desire to swim are the biggest challenges. Why would I swim when I can do an exercise that I enjoy and find comfortable? “Because, Marie, you know that as you become better at it, you will like it more and more.”

And it’s true. The harder I work at something, the more I come to like it. I know that one day I will enjoy swimming.

The Exploration Begins

About me

Hi! My name is Marie. My blog “Article 25” will chronicle my journey, discoveries and growth in the Health Education and Active Living (HEAL) program. In my professional life I work with young children- helping them to grow, explore and give meaning to the world around them. In my personal life, I am a cook, cyclist, wife, friend, traveller, volunteer and much more. I live everyday being grateful for what I have in life.

Why Article 25?

Health is a basic human right, as stated in Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

“Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control.”

As a child, I was aware that I enjoyed things that many others in my country and world did not. My parents did not gloss over famine, war or human rights violations. I had a loving family, a warm house, hand me down clothes, plenty of food and toys, clean water and a safe neighbourhood. As an adult, however, I came to truly understand the full meaning of my privileges when I worked and travelled outside of my hometown. In Mexico I worked with street children, teaching personal hygiene and some basic life skills. In Peru I learned that less truly can mean more. In Peru and Mexico I witnessed the systematic degradation of ancient cultures by western influences and the devastation that this is having on the populations. In the North, I learned what it meant to be embarrassed by the colour of my skin and that the colour of my skin afforded me certain privileges, even in my “developed” country. I learned that children went to the dump to get new toys. I learned from one child that if she wasn’t beaten by an adult that weekend, it was a good weekend. In all of these places I came to realize, despite my knowledge of being privileged, the selfishness with which I lived my life. I realized that without knowing it, I was projecting privilege. All of these experiences have had a formative role in shaping who I presently am. All around me I witness and have witnessed people who, for whatever reasons, have been denied basic human rights.  I strongly believe in the universal right to health and that if everyone could enjoy this right, then many other rights will also be honoured in the process. This is why I chose to call my blog “Article 25.”

The Personal

Knowing that I am privileged, I have vowed to take care of myself by maintaining a healthy lifestyle. I do this mainly by making healthy food choices, exercising, striving for balance between work and life and finding any excuse to spend time with family and friends.

I love food! Whether it is eating, cooking, baking, experimenting with it, reading about it or even just thinking about it, I love food. My husband and I believe in ethical and sustainable food choices and practices. We grow some of our own food, or eat what comes from my parents’ urban farm (as they like to call it.) We purchase local, organic food whenever possible and whenever not possible, we are forced to play the tricky game of making the most ethical and sustainable choice between the options. (For more on how to do this, read Marion Nestle’s What to Eat.) My husband and I are vegetarian and eat mainly whole foods.

I am interested in nutrition and have a developing understanding on the subject. (Although my father would have you believe I am an expert.)  I am on a constant quest to further my knowledge.

I began cycling quite by accident. I had been told by my doctor that running was damaging my body and that I should stop. After much sulking and dramatic displays of self-pity, I was asked by a friend if I wanted to be in a cycling race with her. That was the beginning of a new love. I was also inspired by my best friend who had just completed her second Iron Man competition. Cycling became something that my husband and I took up together and coupled with food, it embodies much of our relationship. I am a pathetic swimmer, but I hope to change that in the near future. I enjoy step and high-low aerobic exercise, some free weight exercise and have recently tried Tabata interval training. My rattlesnake joints believe in the healing influences of yoga but having what was once described to me as a “frolicky mind” I have yet to control the internal chatter. Outdoor exercise and being in the wild environment offer me as much of a mental as well as physical escape.

Why HEAL?

Because I work with children I am exposed to a wide spectrum of perceptions of health. A few years ago, I worked with a child new to the school and country. He was mute, timid, shy, and unresponsive to any interaction with either his peers or me. He didn’t smile. Due to social-economic reasons, his lunches consisted of white bread sandwiches with nothing between the slices. He was subsisting on nothing, and it was taking a devastating toll on his physical, mental and emotional health. He was saved by a health intervention- the subsidized lunch program. Months later, this child was flourishing. He had the strength to hold his head up in class, to focus on learning his letters, and to learn how to add. He could run around outside with his friends, playing and laughing with them. I was amazed at the drastic changes in him and his successes fuelled my passion for health and active living education.  I was angered that because a child is poor, he does not have access to the healthy lifestyle with which so many of us are privileged. I want to change that.

I have come to realize that I have been judgmental of other people’s health but after the discussions of the first two HEAL classes, I can already feel that judgement eroding and broader, more malleable and accepting understandings of health, wellness and balance beginning to develop.