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!