I'm currently in the middle of a 7 week personal exploration class called RP. It has been at turns exhilarating, exhausting, revealing, terrifying. This story is for my beloved, at times enigmatic, buddy Tim. (I discarded inscrutable and unfathomable.)
It was cold and therefore time to go back to the pool anyway. A few weeks ago, carefully monitoring the weather report, I knew full well I was missing my last few opportunities to ride to Rock Creek; I suffered a bit, but couldn't make those rides happen. The loss of biking from my routine lead to too much time on the eliptical; my story was that machine was causing my new back pain. I hoped a return to the pool would alleviate the pain and I used part of a precious day off to get a new locker and a new pass to our gorgeous new pool.
It was good to be back in the water and to feel the awesome tiredness afterwards. After two trips to the pool, though, my neck felt stiff from repeatedly turning my head to the left to breathe during the crawl stroke. I hoped trying to breathe under my right arm instead would ameliorate any impending neck pain. After trying to breathe to the right side two times (yes, for only two breaths!) last week, I gave up. Too hard, the story went, I'm not strong/athletic/young/talented/coordinated enough.
But today, I tried again. Those first laps of the new stroke, I felt especially ungainly, a beginner. The ineffiency of my stroke made me anxious and occasionally panicky, but I made it and reminded myself I wouldn't drown. At the other side of the pool, I returned with my usual stroke and began alternating laps. A few times, I felt so uncomfortable that I had to break from my new stroke into a breast stroke to finish the lap. I noticed all sorts of stories about how ridiculous I must look, and then realized nobody was watching. As the uncounted laps passed, I was able to refine my stroke and make huge improvements. I realized I likely developed the habit of turning my head to the left so I could pull with my stronger right side. Although the change from the habits of a lifetime felt uncomfortable, it was not as impossible as I thought it might have been.
As I realized I was going to be able to make this change that seemed so impossible 45 minutes before, I remembered another small accomplishment this summer. I've always had folks with me when I've flatted on a bike ride and have always let the person with me (more experienced, defter, stronger) change the tire for me. This summer, 3 flats on solo rides gave me an opportunity for learning. The first flat I found I had lost my tire levers and had to ask my Dad for support in the form of a ride back to town and to tire levers. He joyfully came to collect me and my bike and waved away my apologies with his happiness to see me. (What a lovely response to a request!) Although he of course offered to fix the flat for me, I fixed it myself in his shop and immediately went to get a set of new tire levers. The next flat was the next day. I had two kind offers for help, but was able to fix the flat on my own, because I had all that I needed. Just like in the pool and out, I had, and will continue to have, all that I need.
