I really enjoy taking a break from gravity once in a while. For this reason, I have participated in master’s swimming once or twice a week for the last five years. Being in the water is always therapeutic and I get a good work out from it as well. For the last few years I have been swimming with my fins. I put them on a year ago because I was dealing with a shoulder injury. Then I just got hooked on them. In part, this is because it really did take the strain off of my shoulder. I also loved the way they made me feel in the water, namely faster. OK, a lot faster.
During this time I was working on my postgraduate certification in Laban/Bartenieff Movement Analysis. I was really enjoying the process of developing an understanding of my swim stroke on a whole new level that was quite specific and intricate. My stroke seemed to improve. I had developed nice alignment and balance in the water, as well as pretty efficient overall body organization. Everything was going along quite smoothly until a few weeks ago when my coach teased me in front of my mates, “Maybe next week we can get Marilyn to take her fins off.” Was that a challenge or worse, a dare?
I decided to take her on. So the following week I hopped in to the deep end of the pool sans fins for an experiment. It was indeed time to see what condition my freestyle stroke was really in. I figured I’d be slower, but I was shocked to find out how much slower. Why would I even want to humiliate myself with such an experiment? I am not a competitive racer. I just swim for the good workout, the camaraderie of my teammates, and the thrill of swimming outdoors in a beautiful Olympic pool, even in the middle of February.
Without my fins I am the slowest person in the slow lane. I need constant breaks, and interval adjustments so that I can at least get 5 seconds rest, and by the end, I still am wiped out. Why don’t I just put the darn fins back on, and get back in there with my old lane mates? Then I could go on with the business of swimming and forget about all this drowning.
In essence my conflict is due to the fact that I am a truth seeker, even if it hurts a bit. I love swimming with my fins. The problem is, they conceal the naked truth of what kind of swimmer I really am. Without fins, my legs sink so badly that I have to press my chest down hard into the water to get my legs back up. But because I’m pushing my chest down, my head follows, making it difficult to take an easy breath without drink the whole pool. My coach even offered me a pull buoy (a leg float for swimmers) to see if it would make things easier. No such luck. Dysfunction in any one part affects the whole. My coach was also quite surprised with my speed issue. I asked her if she thought I was cheating by wearing fins. She answered that it depended on what would help me to enjoy my swim workouts most and what my specific goals were.
I decided that if this were all about pleasure and pure exercise fitness for me, I would never go in the pool again without my beloved flippers. But as a truth seeker it is important that I don’t just gravitate toward what feels good. If I did, I might never peel my curly head off my shiny gold silk pillowcase in the morning. Yes, it’s about learning. It’s about awareness and acceptance of what is. From there I can figure out what skills, strengths, and habits I need to improve myself. Its about my understanding that the quality of attention and integrity I bring to any physical pursuit, no matter how simple or complex, has the power to inform and thereby enrich other important parts of my life.
So, next week I will be back in the slow lane learning, observing, and growing for at least part of the workout. But lest you walk away thinking that I am a total sucker for punishment, I intend to have my cake and eat it too, with my posse and my fins in the faster lane.
For more information on master's swimming visit:
And for Laban/Bartenieff Movement Analysis visit:
Saturday, July 11, 2009
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