Providing Entertainment in Lane 1

Last week a few things converged and culminated in me taking something head on that I’d been avoiding.

First, spectating an Ironman a couple weeks ago. There’s something about being around real athletes who train hard and perform at that level. Inspiring for sure. That swim tho’…

Second, planning ahead for our annual February escape from Alaska to a warm sunny climate (following wise advice we were given moving up over 18 years ago). Last year was the first time on such a vacation I actually got in the water instead of my usual role: sitting poolside with a book and avoiding anything that would require redoing my hair. (If you know, you know.) And it was humbling. I mean, I can swim. I grew up in Florida in and around pools and the ocean all the time. But “real swimming” out to the floating dock and a boat revealed something unflattering: I’d never learned actual technique. And “being in shape” on land is not the same as in water.

And maybe most shockingly, sitting on bleachers during my daughter’s competitive swim years did not magically turn knowledge into skill!?

Then I found myself “just browsing”: researching adult swim groups in town, ordering athletic swimsuits to try on, then goggles, finally a swim cap.

Eventually all that added up to one obvious decision: I signed up for swim training.

Which is how I found myself in Lane 1, the beginner lane.

(Lane 8, I’m pretty sure is reserved for Ironman World Champion winners).

Admitting I belonged in Lane 1 was mildly painful for my Florida gal ego, but accurate.

And so I began.

Three strokes while breathing out underwater, turn my head, inhale, face back in, three strokes, run out of air early, choke, gasp, lift my chin straight up like a prairie dog, face back in, hold my breath, pretend I’ve got it all together, repeat.

Somehow I made it to the other side. All the while, I was trying to look like I wasn’t in need of rescuing, which, honestly, probably made the show better.

That was lap 1. It went downhill from there.

My heart rate stayed in Zone 5 (do you know how often you need to breathe in Zone 5?!). I drank enough chlorinated water to kill off my entire gut microbiome. My hand slammed into the lane rope so many times they looked like one of my elderly patients on dual antiplatelet therapy. My husband later looked at them and asked, “What happened to you?”

Meanwhile, the other person in my lane, apparently also self-labeled a “beginner” was creating a wake I had to survive. I’m pretty sure she counted the lanes from the wrong side.

It was absolutely awful, comedic, and disastrous all at once. Seriously! The urge to quit and sneak away to the locker room after every lap was real. Ten years ago, I probably would have.

The difference now is I could hear the narrative in real time for what it was: harmful negative self-talk. I was able to name the instinct to avoid humiliation as discomfort - the price of growth. Darn it.

I stepped into my growth mindset. And so I told the coach, “See you on Thursday.”

The beautiful excuses that presented themselves, such as an early group coaching session and wet hair, did not rise to the level of being worthy of missing. I watched some technique videos, visualized the rhythm of arms, breathing, and turning, even practiced them in the living room (thankfully unseen).

And Thursday was…better. Still beginner. Still swallowed water. Still very much Lane 1 material.

But I didn’t lift my chin, didn’t hit the ropes, and got 500 yards in before leaving early to host our group coaching call.

Progress.

I encourage those I work with in various settings to embrace the discomfort of growth, put in the reps, and trust the process. It’d just been awhile since I had lived it personally so intensely - but there was no way I could stay in integrity and walk away.

Reflection:

1. What progress have you seen in your own journey because you embraced the beginner’s and growth mindsets?
2. How can that reminder support you in putting in those first few embarrassingly terrible reps?
3. What do you need to tolerate being bad at long enough to get good at it?