I am relatively certain I can’t drown in a wetsuit. Now don’t go put on a wetsuit, jump in a lake, drown and then sue me because I said this. All I said was, I’m relatively certain I can’t drown in a wetsuit. For all I know, you may sink like a rock.
I share this revelation about my newly discovered ability to stay buoyant because my first foray into open water and in my new wetsuit was not exactly what I would call successful. In fact it was a tad demoralizing. A downright disaster of a day overall. While I may be exaggerating just a little, the experience did teach me two things: 1) Lakes are cold; and 2) I need additional work on the swim leg of my triathlon training.
So, forging ahead, taking wetsuit in hand to my local health club pool I wasn’t going to quit. Not yet. What I found on this second attempt was that I actually float in a wetsuit. I mean float. I have never experienced the feeling of floating in water. I have yet to figure out if this is a mental block or physical phenomenon, though a woman in my tri training group said 5% of the population sinks. I thanked her for the information, contemplating if I should test her sink-ability by giving her a little nudge toward the pool. I firmly believe I’m a sinker but will get back to you once I tame my swimming anxiety, which I know can weigh you down.
Yes, I swam to my little heart’s content on that day, in that pool in my happy little wetsuit. 1000m in 35 minutes. Not nuclear sub speed, though I don’t really know how fast nuclear subs travel, but I’m sure it is considerably faster than I will ever propel myself through the water. This experience made me realize it can’t just be my little rubber suit. I may actually be acquiring some swimming skills. It’s a good thing too…only 10 more days until I sink or swim for real.
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Pack
My first attempt at a triathlon will occur in 19 days. While it is has been referred to as “only a sprint” by someone who shall remain bound and gagged with duct tape, to me it is a half mile swim in a lake that may as well contain piranhas, sharks and deadly eels. (I reference my earlier post and my limited aquatic skills). If I survive the .75K swim, I will hop on a bike and ride 23 pleasant kilometers of southern Wisconsin roads followed by a nice 5K run in what I’m hoping is an equally friendly trail through Big Foot State Park. Yes, I realize I may be blowing the whole swim part of this endeavor out of proportion, but whatever it takes to keep me laughing through my fear works for me.
In addition to swimming, I continue to learn yet another new sport related skill. This past weekend I was on my second road bike outing in three weeks. With 1,000 other bikers on northwestern Illinois' rolling farm roads, running into other cyclists was an inevitable occurrence. Being new to the sport of cycling, I soon realized there exists a language unto itself which a newbie must learn in order to become part of this pack. So after passing a group of five cyclists with matching bright yellow bike shirts only to have the entire five pass me again minutes later, I came to the quick conclusion this back and forth was ridiculous, and decided to hang back at the rear of this pack, listen and learn.
Any athletic undertaking of the last few years is especially subject to my sport psychology analyses. This day made clear that there are both benefits and liabilities to being part of a pack versus going it on your own. And as always, the sport environment provides a wonderful mini-example of how day-to-day life can play out.
On a road bike, the pack can keep you safe and teach the literal “rules of the road." In cycling you can definitely travel faster if you happen to be in a pack that pushes you. Conversely, if you find yourself stuck with a slow moving pack, you may feel obligated to stifle your own skills to remain part of the group. While the pack looks out for its members, individuals sometimes have a hard time seeing through the pack to view the whole horizon.
And I wondered, can you really plan your individual goals when the pack is calling the shots? Listening to the chatter of the pack can take you off your own focus. Thinking for yourself becomes more intentional. The pack may try to instill their own thoughts/ideas/views on you. Some packs are suspect of outsiders and shun new ideas stifling opportunities for growth.
While going on your own means giving up the safety of the pack, seeing the whole horizon for yourself is a clear solo trekking benefit. Learning to rely only on the self is a driver for many…so much so that Henry David Thoreau went to the woods to live alone and hone this trait in himself. The flipside of self-reliance can lead to becoming too self-focused. Looking inside too often and too long, one can lose touch with the ability to interact with others or worse yet, lose out on the beauty of what others have to share.
In addition to swimming, I continue to learn yet another new sport related skill. This past weekend I was on my second road bike outing in three weeks. With 1,000 other bikers on northwestern Illinois' rolling farm roads, running into other cyclists was an inevitable occurrence. Being new to the sport of cycling, I soon realized there exists a language unto itself which a newbie must learn in order to become part of this pack. So after passing a group of five cyclists with matching bright yellow bike shirts only to have the entire five pass me again minutes later, I came to the quick conclusion this back and forth was ridiculous, and decided to hang back at the rear of this pack, listen and learn.
Any athletic undertaking of the last few years is especially subject to my sport psychology analyses. This day made clear that there are both benefits and liabilities to being part of a pack versus going it on your own. And as always, the sport environment provides a wonderful mini-example of how day-to-day life can play out.
On a road bike, the pack can keep you safe and teach the literal “rules of the road." In cycling you can definitely travel faster if you happen to be in a pack that pushes you. Conversely, if you find yourself stuck with a slow moving pack, you may feel obligated to stifle your own skills to remain part of the group. While the pack looks out for its members, individuals sometimes have a hard time seeing through the pack to view the whole horizon.
And I wondered, can you really plan your individual goals when the pack is calling the shots? Listening to the chatter of the pack can take you off your own focus. Thinking for yourself becomes more intentional. The pack may try to instill their own thoughts/ideas/views on you. Some packs are suspect of outsiders and shun new ideas stifling opportunities for growth.
While going on your own means giving up the safety of the pack, seeing the whole horizon for yourself is a clear solo trekking benefit. Learning to rely only on the self is a driver for many…so much so that Henry David Thoreau went to the woods to live alone and hone this trait in himself. The flipside of self-reliance can lead to becoming too self-focused. Looking inside too often and too long, one can lose touch with the ability to interact with others or worse yet, lose out on the beauty of what others have to share.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Not Water People
I’m 41 years old and learning how to swim. For those of you not aquatically challenged, this may not seem like a big deal. But as my brother so eloquently puts it, “We’re not water people.” So for my brethren, it is slightly a big deal.
On my 30th birthday I found myself in Steamboat Springs, CO, on a chairlift with a snowboard strapped to my foot for the first time. It could appear to those who don’t know me that I am one of those crazy, thrill-seeking individuals. However, I am the furthest thing from an adrenaline junkie. The more likely scenario is that I feel compelled to push myself beyond the limits I’ve become comfortable. I do this less out of sheer courage, (though a little bit helps every now and then) and moreso from an insatiable need to learn something new.
So back to learning how to swim, which is how I came to discover cadence in the first place.
The word itself flows from the lips with its own striking rhythm. Appropriately so, as dictionary.com defines cadence as:
1. the rhythmic flow of a sequence of sounds or words: the cadence of language.
2. the beat, rate, or measure of any rhythmic movement
3. the flow or rhythm of events, esp. the pattern in which something is experienced
Finding the flow or rhythm of the swim stroke has proven to be one of the greater challenges of my sporty lifestyle. There are many things to think about in the stroke, while in the forefront of my mind is the not-drowning part, which I’m well aware makes the rest of the learning process a bit more challenging.
Psychologist, Mihalyi Czikszentimihalyi, wrote an excellent, and one of my all-time favorite academic reads, “Flow: The Optimal Experience.” He speaks of achieving the optimal state in any endeavor, athletic or intellectual, where skills are equal to the challenges at hand. Time passes without the participant’s awareness. Actions become fluid. Thoughts come quickly and apply deftly to the problem. This is cadence in its most supreme form. That which few experience, and many only fleetingly so. Hats off to the unique few who can access the state at will.
This high level rhythm also implies a type of balance. Or at least harmony with the action, environment or task to be mastered. My entire short life has been a quest for balance, often looking toward external sources in search of internal balance. I know I’m not alone in this quest. We all can be fooled into to believing the answers lie in promotions, love, financial freedom, children, or success, however that may be defined. But as my brother so aptly put it the other day, “try to hug a pile of cash.” Maybe balance is a life long pursuit. However, I think harmony can be achieved any time one is willing to tune their cadence to a greater good.
But again, back to swimming, which is how I came to learn about cadence in the first place.
I’m learning cadence in a particular action is harder to attain when anxiety or fear blocks the path. I know, I know. You’re probably thinking, "she’s a rocket scientist." Or for those of you I strive, but sadly will only continue to strive to emulate, you have found a peace that doesn’t come easy to those of us innately on edge. I believe I came out of the womb looking around the delivery room for the first sign of impending doom. Not so much, “put me back in,” but rather, “what’s that over there, is it heavy and will it hurt if it falls on me,”...which is a lot for a one-minute old. When one of your favorite movie quotes is Woody Allen stating, “I see the glass as half-full, it’s just half-full of poison,” you soon realize others may not see the world the same way you do.
So how do the innately anxious learn to find their cadence, their balance, their harmony with the world around them? By avoiding others and anxiety-provoking situations? Not in my book. I am personally too curious to miss out because of a little shortness of breath. As a very intelligent person once said after years of white-knuckle flying, “I refuse to participate in this anxiety attack any longer.” He decided valium and champagne was a much better way to fly.
Here's to not letting a little fear hold you back!
On my 30th birthday I found myself in Steamboat Springs, CO, on a chairlift with a snowboard strapped to my foot for the first time. It could appear to those who don’t know me that I am one of those crazy, thrill-seeking individuals. However, I am the furthest thing from an adrenaline junkie. The more likely scenario is that I feel compelled to push myself beyond the limits I’ve become comfortable. I do this less out of sheer courage, (though a little bit helps every now and then) and moreso from an insatiable need to learn something new.
So back to learning how to swim, which is how I came to discover cadence in the first place.
The word itself flows from the lips with its own striking rhythm. Appropriately so, as dictionary.com defines cadence as:
1. the rhythmic flow of a sequence of sounds or words: the cadence of language.
2. the beat, rate, or measure of any rhythmic movement
3. the flow or rhythm of events, esp. the pattern in which something is experienced
Finding the flow or rhythm of the swim stroke has proven to be one of the greater challenges of my sporty lifestyle. There are many things to think about in the stroke, while in the forefront of my mind is the not-drowning part, which I’m well aware makes the rest of the learning process a bit more challenging.
Psychologist, Mihalyi Czikszentimihalyi, wrote an excellent, and one of my all-time favorite academic reads, “Flow: The Optimal Experience.” He speaks of achieving the optimal state in any endeavor, athletic or intellectual, where skills are equal to the challenges at hand. Time passes without the participant’s awareness. Actions become fluid. Thoughts come quickly and apply deftly to the problem. This is cadence in its most supreme form. That which few experience, and many only fleetingly so. Hats off to the unique few who can access the state at will.
This high level rhythm also implies a type of balance. Or at least harmony with the action, environment or task to be mastered. My entire short life has been a quest for balance, often looking toward external sources in search of internal balance. I know I’m not alone in this quest. We all can be fooled into to believing the answers lie in promotions, love, financial freedom, children, or success, however that may be defined. But as my brother so aptly put it the other day, “try to hug a pile of cash.” Maybe balance is a life long pursuit. However, I think harmony can be achieved any time one is willing to tune their cadence to a greater good.
But again, back to swimming, which is how I came to learn about cadence in the first place.
I’m learning cadence in a particular action is harder to attain when anxiety or fear blocks the path. I know, I know. You’re probably thinking, "she’s a rocket scientist." Or for those of you I strive, but sadly will only continue to strive to emulate, you have found a peace that doesn’t come easy to those of us innately on edge. I believe I came out of the womb looking around the delivery room for the first sign of impending doom. Not so much, “put me back in,” but rather, “what’s that over there, is it heavy and will it hurt if it falls on me,”...which is a lot for a one-minute old. When one of your favorite movie quotes is Woody Allen stating, “I see the glass as half-full, it’s just half-full of poison,” you soon realize others may not see the world the same way you do.
So how do the innately anxious learn to find their cadence, their balance, their harmony with the world around them? By avoiding others and anxiety-provoking situations? Not in my book. I am personally too curious to miss out because of a little shortness of breath. As a very intelligent person once said after years of white-knuckle flying, “I refuse to participate in this anxiety attack any longer.” He decided valium and champagne was a much better way to fly.
Here's to not letting a little fear hold you back!
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