Calling All Not-So-Negative Nancys!

As the days are finding a more narrowed gap to shine though, I am getting closer and closer to my meet in Toronto. I have begun tapering and my body is quite thankful for that. However, my brain seems to consistently struggle with the whole concept of a taper.

Taper workouts are exactly what they sound like. An athlete will taper his or her training as the date of competition nears. Workouts become slowly shorter, allowing for longer rest in between sets; all the while maintaining the optimal intensity of each stroke and turn throughout these sets. My body relishes in extra rest at the wall. I comply to all requests: stretching each finger one-by-one, blowing slowed bubbles to return a normal heart rhythm, lying ceiling-ward envisioning the whole thing coming together.

Sounds like a dream, right? Then why is this the absolute hardest part of all of my training?

I can coach my body into its utmost physical shape. I can pace wall-to-wall with increasing ease. I can reprimand a loss for stroke count. BUT...

I simply struggle with getting my brain into its utmost mental shape. I struggle to even think about the other competitors. I almost lose my mind thinking about the impending nerves in Toronto.

How can I get over this? THIS is why I hate taper. Tapering means that I am nearing my final training sessions and cannot go back. I can't wallow in any sort of coulda-woulda-shouldas. I have to have COMPLETE confidence in my mind, body, and spirit; and the belief that they will all work congruently and seamlessly when asked.

All along, my biggest challenge as an athlete has been myself. I began to overcome that the second I decided to start competing again. Sending off a big, "screw you" to all those Negative Nancys that live, hiding, between sutures and cracks in my cerebrum. This has been my hardest job yet: silencing those Nancys and finding newer, Not-So-Negative Nancys to pay attention to.

Newer Nancys, help?!

Perhaps the lesson here is the struggle. I truly feel that if I could overcome my own self, I could truly accomplish anything. For the first time, I recognize both THIS and the urgency to TRY!

Nancys and anything else living beneath the cracks of my brain, see you in Toronto!

Thanks & Giving

'Tis the season to love and laugh and share with others. There is something about the time of year when the cool winter air begins warming people's hearts.

I have experienced much gratitude today in many facets of my life.There were dozens of tiny sparks of love shared in my presence and I wanted to make sure to recount a few of them for my own cyber-safe keeping.

For starters, today brought about a generous donation of training gear and an even more generous boost of enthusiasm and encouragement from the man behind Out of Breath Sports shop in Englewood, Jim Cotsworth. Both generosities couldn't have come at a more opportune time for me. The renewed sense of motivation that both Pam and Jim at the shop gave me will, undoubtedly, carry me through Toronto.

I was so proud to update them on my swimming ventures; seeing as they were there at the very beginning. I have known Pam and Jim since I started swimming competitively as a wee 8 year old and worked directly with both as a board member of the neighborhood community teams after my accident. What I realized most, was that it was beyond comprehension how much support you have when you open your eyes to it. I left given a bag full of goodies and a heart full of joy.

Sometimes giving can be much more transparent. After leaving the swim shop, full-heart in tow, I made--what I thought would be-- a quick journey to pick up some pottery that I had painted several weeks before, and head-hangingly neglected. This shop is one of those paint-your-own-masterpiece kind of joints and is run by one of the most beautiful spirits I've come across. Sadly, when I painted my piece a few weeks back, she wasn't there. I hadn't been in the shop for over 3 years, so I wasn't terribly surprised to assume that things had changed since then.

However, to my heart's surprise, she greeted me at the door this afternoon. We caught up using brief attempts at simplifying years' time. I told her all about my swimming. I was so excited to share this with her. In fact, I ended up sharing many things with her in our short correspondence today and, as beautiful and lovely of a spirit she may possess, I didn't really understand the magnitude of either my divulgement or excitement for it... until just now.

Three triple-coat layer years ago, my grandma and I used to go to this pottery shop to paint and share stories. While painting, we'd gab around all sorts of things from school to coaching to family gossip. I miss that. I miss her.

Today, flashed-forward, I found myself longing to have such a paint n' gab session. It was almost as if I were trying to fill my grandmother in on the last three years, highlighting those stories and giving details on events that I know that she'd truly adore in all her wildness. It was cathartic.

I imagine those close to me will be getting various ceramic goods this holiday season...

Giving can be a display of grandeur with arms outstretched, or it can be a subtle smile from a could-have-been stranger. The challenge truly lies in recognizing the gift of giving as it unveils itself to you as that last, hidden present under the tree or that extra slice of pumpkin pie that only Grandma would knew you needed.

Facing the Current

As a general rule, fish do not swim upstream. Rather, they sit idle facing the current to catch food and such throughout their day. I have felt much of this lately.

I am continually facing the current, not necessarily to catch food per se (although food has become of utmost importance in my life recently), but more so in terms of the swimming itself. Whether it be the increasing numbness in my fingers or the near-miss with being reclassified, I have faced a slow and steady, yet strong current for the past couple of weeks.

As the days pass I am nearing closer and closer to the Can/Am Meet in Toronto. My body is sitting near its breaking point, yelling at me with sore muscles and pinched off nerves. I try my best to listen to the yelling by stretching and resting, but more typically I ignore it and fight on with the current.

If it were entirely up to me, I would call upon my fairy godmother of a massage therapist, Carla, yet my lack of finances have me on an invisible, yet extremely short, leash. Perhaps I should inquire about getting a financial fairy godmother...

I have never been so worried about money; in fact, I have always been sort of the opposite. I have never been one to appreciate money for its less-than-ironic worth, but now I am starting to feel the restraint. Mostly likely due to my overzealous t-shirt purchasing spree combined with the lack of selling said overzealous purchased tees; I am left scraping just to secure my trip to Toronto let alone my actual training.

That was managing to stay secured until I received a rather startled email regarding my reclassification appointment...

Classification is a process where each athlete is tested and put in a category based upon his or her functional abilities. To my knowledge, my class was set and there wasn't a sledgehammer in the place that could crack that. I was sorely mistaken.

The email I received, both tactfully and bluntly, was reminding me of my classification appointment on Wednesday, December 8th in Toronto! I was due to land in Toronto on Thursday, December 9th!

After some stress-laden email correspondence with the folks in Toronto, I panicked and changed my flight, hotel, and car rental. With much hesitation, I have yet to change my friend/trainer's flight; which will be interesting seeing as my car rental does NOT come with hand controls for me to drive with.

I can figure this out. I always do. Besides, if I wasn't to face the current, I wouldn't be able to feel the strength of the source. I wouldn't clearly understand the challenges of reaching for something that you desire truly down through your soul. Facing this current causes me address my challenges, while becoming stronger for that, rather idle, yet fierce stare-down.

So from here, i will continue to gaze upstream, smile in tow; full knowing that I am in the middle of something quite phenomenal.

"Coach Ryan"

I forgot how fantastic it feels to be called Coach Ryan. It's so funny how a simple title like that can feel so empowering.

For about a month now, I have been coaching for a year-round swim team called, Swim Dogs. They are a fabulous team that I swear was designed around my own coaching philosophies. There is a strong focus on community and unity, as well as improving your strokes and your heart for the sport.

I have the responsibility of encouraging and guiding the little guys. They are utterly wonderful. Their energy and spark is inspiring and flows throughout the pool like a beautiful perfume. The reception of kids that age is so remarkable. They want to get better and they want you to be proud. Where does that go as you age? I try to learn from these kiddos and borrow little bits of their energies to store in my pockets and use for my own swim training.

The other day was the first time I was referred to as, "coach Ryan." It was simply music to my ears. I hadn't realized ever before the pride that I have to be a coach and the happiness that I feel when acting the part.

I'm so glad to be back in the pool as well as out of the pool. This full-circle of the sport will only make me a stronger contender in the end. I will forever hold close that identity of swimmer/coach.

Personal Pursuit of Publicities

I am learning that this journey is a process that goes far beyond my daily training regimens and sacrifices.

This journey is about step-by-step tidbits like getting my name heard

by the right people. These "right people" could be those people with Paralympic ties or they can be people who are willing to donate to my cause; but either way, I know that I need to reach these guys.

It is a huge struggle for me to outwardly attempt to vie for others' attention, but I have taken a large gulp and stood out on this limb of uncharted and scary territory, in order to know that I have done EVERYTHING in my power to get me to where I know I can be.

Needless to say, I just spent the majority of this Halloween day contacting media sources from all over, ranging from big-time celeb-types, to local new

s vendors that may remember me from past. It has been grueling to sit out here amongst these sparse changing leaves hoping that this limb won't snap.

However, as I have said many times before, when you are on the right path you just know it. After spending nearly all of my brain capacity at my computer trying to connect with the media mongers of the world, I stumbled upon (I use this statement loosely, considering I "stumble" here everyday) the US Paralympic Swimming site a

nd noticed that my name has now made it on the list, four times!

See it for yourself: http://assets.usoc.org/assets/documents/attached_file/filename/32083/ARLCMRecords.pdf

All in a day's work, I suppose. Break time over, now back to my personal pursuit of publicity.

The Selfishness of the Sport

What sets apart a good athlete from a GREAT athlete?

Everyone can acknowledge the fact that it comes down to more than gear or coaching staff or (on some level) raw talent. A GREAT athlete has something much, much more.

It is my theory that these athletes are born. They are born, not necessarily just within a great gene pool or notable resources, but rather something more involving synapses and a mental capacity for the entire game itself.

This is an area in which I have always struggled. I identify with being an athlete through and through; however, that has never been enough. There has always been a missing electric firing that has kept me at more of a neutral than an acceleration. In high school, I never excelled to my full potential athletically. and I realize that now. Come to think of it, I realized it then too. I was afraid. I seemed to always be afraid. Afraid of being good. Afraid of failing after being good. Afraid of thinking I was good only to fail. Afraid of acting elite, when I was really a bouncy blondish girl from South Denver.

Thus, I never fully succeeded. I never fully pushed myself and I never found that part in my brain that sets elite athletes from the rest of us.

Lately, I have been thinking about this a lot. Comparing those that I know that ARE elite athletes and quietly picking at their brains and analyzing attitudes. In this, I have found that these individuals are, in fact, different than the rest of us, and that difference lies in the ego.

Outwardly, this sounds like a terrible notion. You need to be a selfish, narcissistic person to really succeed? Well folks, this is partly true.

I have never considered myself to be selfish, if anything I have always been consumed with the opposite: trying to do everything for everyone else and, many times, neglecting myself entirely. My personal position on this spectrum can actually be considered quite a detriment to me and has led to many a struggle both internally and externally.

However, in my research of the athlete's brain, it has suddenly become apparent that the more involved you become with the sport, the less involved you become with everything else-- thus becoming more selfish. Let me explain... The more I train, the less I spend those hours with friends and family. The more I desire to train, the less I desire to spend those longing hours with those same friends and family.

Here's another, fairly insignificant, yet noteworthy, example:

Yesterday I got my hair cut. I mean chopped. This occurrence isn't itself a huge deal; however, the timing is. I have been donating my hair for years. Growing and cutting, growing and cutting. It has worked well for me, bringing purpose to my hair and feeling satisfied for the cause. But yesterday, I cut it too soon. I selfishly cut my hair to make my daily routine easier in light of all my swimming. I sacrificed something very meaningful for me in order to pursue something equally meaningful... yet selfish.

I'm not sure what this all means. Am I on the road to becoming a selfish hermit who has self-ostracized from all human contact? I really hope not. Am I on a different, yet more subtle road, one that involves greater success and achievement as I become more competitive in the water?

Regardless, in the end, all of this swimming is really to provide an example to EVERYONE that dreams can be achieved no matter the actual vehicle for it. So, perhaps this selfishness can be counter-balanced...

A New Winding Path

Something that I've told myself all along, as experience electrifies lightning throughout the atmosphere, is that if it isn't a challenge, it probably isn't worth doing in the first place.

So far, my swimming journey has been rather effortless. I've been able to coast alone on good graces, karma, and luck. Don't get me wrong, I have appreciated every bit of it... being someone that hasn't felt that sort of forward propulsion much in her life in the last couple of years. I have soaked it all in, almost to the point where I have lost sight of my original mantra:

If it isn't a challenge, it probably isn't worth doing in the first place.

That's when, in my new-found habit of daily swim research, I came across the freshly published list of Paralympic events for London 2012. I quickly scrolled down the list to look at time standards for all of my favorite events. N/A. Wait?? What is that supposed to mean? I scrolled through the remaining events in my classification. N/A. Wait! Except for the majority of the freestyle and butterfly events, my classification events are "not applicable"? Could this be correct?

With all kinds of worries and questions and potential disappointments running around in my head, I quickly phoned the only source I could think of to set me straight. He was even uncertain. In light of my recent successes in confidence, I didn't even hesitate to go straight to the source. So, I emailed the International Paralympic Committee myself.

I had my answer within a few, nail-bitting days. Apparently, it has been decided that any of the events where there isn't enough of a population to inhabit them will be eliminated in the events list; therefore, 99% of all of my classification events.

Immediately, I was crushed. My heart sank deep into the folds of my intestines. I was lost. My journey had always been very specific in terms of being a linear progress starting from now and ending in London 2012. Now what was I supposed to do?

The answer: WORK HARDER.

The process, the step-by-step venture, is what this journey is all about. Glitches in the system and bumps in the road should be clear indications that there are lessons to be learned and emotions to be felt. They are all reminders that I am alive and reaching for more. The news about the Paralympic events list is a neon sign reminder that I must push harder than ever before. I must gaze inside of me deeper than I had ever dared. I must trust in myself in ways that I have always feared.

This news is no longer a setback to me; but rather a twist in the pathway of my dreams, winding to challenge me to accomplish new heights that have been left unimaginable otherwise.

So, my plans have changed, but only slightly. My goals are greater. Now, I have the opportunity to attempt to qualify to the Paralympics in events that are ABOVE my current classification, swimming with athletes with more functional abilities. I also have the opportunity to concentrate on strokes that I would have rather left for dead than swim in a meet-- the dreaded freestyle and butterfly.

The path hasn't changed. The path has only become more beautiful; being able to see the outline of endless fields and sunshine, in the midst of that very-purposeful, winding earth for only me to follow.