Paralympic Trials Live Results

http://www.bismarckaquatics.com/hytek/results/evtindex.htm

Pool Therapy: Part II

Now, as I entered high school, I did so like any other self-conscious, yearning-to-belong-to-something teen. However, I also continued to carry that moment of undeserving relay swimming in the back of my heart. Wicked combo.

As a freshman, I was placed rather effortlessly on the varsity team-- again, feeling as though it was a mistake, a position I hadn't the skill to fulfill. Nevertheless, I went to that practice group anyway.

The lanes were arranged from fastest to slowest, and with my teenage mindset, I settled happily into lane 5 (there were only six lanes!) I was comfortable there and was sure that I could live out all of my dreams in that lane; only looking back now, realizing that I had pre-stifled most of my real dreams before I even stepped onto that pool deck.

At that point, all that I wanted to do was blend in in life. I did so in class, and I was going to do so in the pool. If it weren't for my coach (who actually saw more from me that I did), things would have gone just fine.

In that very first week of my freshman year practice, my coach had attempted to challenge me. Now as a memory, I COMPLETELY understand the intention of my coach; however, as a fragile 14-year-old, I only saw defeat. In front of the entire team, snotty seniors and all, I was to swim my best 100-butterfly for a time--and if I were to make it, the whole team was going to be rewarded by getting out of practice early. I could have cried right then and there.

As the girls waded and situated themselves around my now emptied lane, I breathed in the weight of thirty teenage minds wanting to get out of practice early. I closed my eyes and dove in.

I swam my hardest... or I thought I did. I couldn't help focusing on those faces lined strategically throughout my swim. I didn't even want to come up for air, for fear that I would connect eyes with one of them. Rather than being proud to have been chosen for such a challenge, I was both embarrassed and petrified of the outcome.

And, as my solo race came to a finish, I knew that there was no way that I had accomplished such a feat. The punishment was brought to all-- a horrendous kick set. Thank you, Ryan. (Although none of the girls actually said anything, I felt all of those sarcastic undertones.) How could that coach put me in such an impossible position?? I am not sure I ever fully recovered from those feelings, and found myself hiding in lane-5 for my remaining 3 years.

Looking back, of course I now see what my coach did that day. He saw the potential in me that I had always lacked seeing for myself. That day, he gave me a choice: I could either continue down that self-loathing swim path that I was on, or change it and become a really great swimmer.

We all know what I chose.

However, as I sit with those feelings now, I think that I am nearer to changing my path. I think that I can recognize those undeserved undeserving feelings and work with them. At least now I am going to try.

I leave for the Paralympic Trials on Tuesday. I will compete in Bismarck, North Dakota from the 14th to the 16th, and the Paralympic Team will be announced on Sunday the 17th once all of the results are in. I am not expecting anything other than to actually swim my races as though I actually deserve to be there. Whatever becomes of that is, of course, the outcome of that other path that I never chose for myself. And for that, I am truly excited. 

Pool Therapy: Part I

Somewhere in the midst of floating under water, thoughts turn into feelings, troubles turn into challenges, and training turns into emotional healing.

For me, swimming is more than a skill, much more than a sport-- it is a part of my soul. Lately, as I circle around the narrowed lane, I take my mind back to where it all began, searching for those childhood feelings of the swim.

Of course there are memories of smiles and laughter, of triumph and acheivement-- for those, I have plenty. However, there are equal memories of sorrow, disappointment, of defeat and failure--of myself as well as that very thing that I love.

------------------------------

I recall, quite incidentally, one of my first big moments of competition. I had been swimming for a fairly rigorous year-round team for only a few months--and even more notable--swimming competitively for a summer club team for just a couple months before that. Once I had finally learned to keep my head underwater there was no stopping me. I went from that summer club team almost immediately to the next level of training--year-round swimming and "real" competition.

This was my first meet as a "real" competitor, or so my little nine-year old self had understood it. There was only one tiny problem-- I was dreadfully sick. I had come down with some sort of flu bug the night before but had, in my typical fashion, determined that there was nothing that was going to keep me from swimming the meet.

Once I arrived on the pool deck and checked in with my coaches, they shocked me with my own earthquake-sized challenge-- I was going to swim in a relay, and not just any relay, the "A" relay. Clearly I was overjoyed and terrified in the same chlorine soaked body to receive such news. Those little flu bugs would just have to wait one stinkin' minute... for I was about to have a new, great moment.

Having been fairly new to the swim team, I was introduced to the other three girls on my relay team by one of the coaches. As we walked towards the trio with a smile in my heart and a skip in my step, things started to slow to a sudden, car-wreck-sort-of-stop. I could hear them, so obviously the coach would too, right?

"SHE can't possibly swim on our relay."

"SHE has no idea what she is doing."

"Where's Kate? She's a MUCH better swimmer."

The last words I heard were the most troubling of all. "You are going to swim the breaststroke leg..."

Breaststroke?! Sure, I could do it... but not in any world I would have ever put on that pseudo-frog-styled hat and flaunted it around like so.

The next few moments were a blur of unhappy nine-year old teammates, gurgling tummy, heart racing, and "Take your marks!"

In my nine-year old head, I had no idea how lasting those feelings of inadequecy would be. I had no idea how I would hold on to those feelings of not belonging, not being good enough, and not deserving my "spot" in the pool.

Sadly, those feelings translated into an even deeper sense of undeservedness as I entered high school...

Speaking of Speaking

Just breathe... you've got this... you talk to kids every single day... this is exactly what you want to be doing...

For whatever reason, when I agreed to be the sole speaker at the Chaparral High School spring pep-assembly and prom event, I had no idea that I was going to end up taking things so seriously. Not that I didn't think that this speech was a big deal or lacked importance, but rather that I gave speeches like this on almost a daily basis in my own classroom.

However, rather quickly as the date approached I became more and more anxious in what it was that I was to deliver to these extremely impressionable, yet judgmental minds. The weekend prior to the event, I was recluse and cranky. I couldn't quite figure it out. I wasn't there yet and I, by no means, had 45 minutes worth of worthy material to offer.

But somehow it came together. At some point I realized that I know this demographic really, really well and I knew just exactly how to reach them.

I needed to not only to show them what I went through, but on some level I needed them to go through it as well. I needed the kids to feel things that they didn't want to feel and experience things that they didn't necessarily know that they wanted to experience.

To make myself feel better, I found myself making a special purchase of a silken floral top with splashes of sunshine and confidence... I longed to feel the part of what I was trying to emit within the spacious auditorium.

As the morning of the speech came, I had grown to embody the confidence that I had wished for. I practiced my speech during my own practice--a relaxing morning recovery swim to ease both body and mind. Everything was serene and calm.

Focusing on my breath carried me from the pool to the school as I unloaded all of my various "props" strategically secured in the largest bag that I could find (my ParaPan Am luggage). Students greeted me with a smile and directed me to the silent gym, soon to be flooded with kids just excited to be out of Geometry class for the day.

After being introduced by one of the students, I wheeled to the center of the gym and for a brief moment thought back to my trial-and-error basketball days. I took in a deep breath and began by asking the kids to close their eyes (as I crossed my fingers). I didn't know if it would work but I wanted them to imagine their individual lives at that moment-- among tests, and driving to school, and staying up too late to study, and wishing it was lunchtime or summertime...

Looking among the crowd, a sense of pride and excitement spread across my face. Every single student in the auditorium had their eyes closed... they were listening. That's how I knew that what I was doing was right, and good, and important enough.

So, I kept talking... and talking, and telling my story. And they kept listening and wondering until my very last word.

I put my whole heart and soul into that speech that day and truly believe that I did some good for those hearts and souls who were listening. And as stressful as it was in getting to that point, I would love the chance, any chance, to feel that again.

Touching Hearts

Whether you recognize it or not, people are listening.

It is important to realize this and live each moment with it in mind. I'm fairly certain that if you keep this little thought at the energetic junctions of your synapses, you will--no doubt--live a well-rounded, well-experienced moment-to-moment existence.

So, who is listening? You may think, "no one." But this simply isn't so. You have no idea how many connections and correspondences you share throughout the day, and if you question me--step up to the challenge: Try for a "day of silence" and you will find how many people you truly do share an exchange through the day with, even in the most seemingly mundane of days.

This week, in particular, I was reminded of the power of one's self and the fact that there is always someone listening.

Early in the week I received a Facebook comment that simply stated: 

"are you from: chicken soup for the soul? :o"

Interested immediately, I looked up the profile of the owner of those words and found a sweet-faced Canadian teen that I obviously had never personally met. So, I sent her a message and replied to her question and then proceeded by asking her the motivation behind searching from a faceless name to a 3-page story in a book of over a hundred just like it.

She explained through funny texting-lingo that my story was,

"unbelievable"

and encouraged me to

"keep swimming."

This very subtle, yet radiating exchange made me so proud. In writing a story for the book, I guess I never really considered anyone reading it, let alone finding it remotely encouraging or memorable. Yet, I stand corrected, thanks to my newest Facebook friend.

Virtually simultaneously I received a package in the mail, a rather heavy, intentional package. It's contents?

I had met "Coach Grandpa" at the Sportswoman of the Year banquet. He was drawn to my story because of his own Paralympic grandson, Danny. Little did I know that Gary Isaac and his wife Renee had heard Marcia Neville speak about me and considered me as someone who was "Touching Hearts Through Athletics." Again, I had no idea.

This week's lesson has definitely been about being aware of the connections that you are sending off into the Universe, because inevitably someone is listening. Please take my lesson and share it, make a connection of your own.

Accepting Awards

For whatever reason, I feel like I am now just getting the chance to reflect on some rather cool happenings in my life. Better late than not at all, I suppose?

Being honored with an award has always been (I hate to admit it) quite an excruciating experience for me. I much prefer the wallflower status that felt most comfortable for me as a child. The limelight or spotlight or any descriptive light is a very challenging place for me to be, yet I feel that--in order to pursue those things that are so important in my brain-- I must just get over it.

I was honored at the Sportswoman of the Year banquet, for the second year in a row! It was such a wonderful evening being surrounded by such like-minded and fierce women, that one couldn't help but to leave inspired... yet feeling a little short in stature. My dad was continually commenting on the "size of those girls". 

One thing that DID surprise me, however; was the fact that I finally realized that I really wanted everyone to know just what I had accomplished... and that it actually mattered to me. For the past year and a half, I have struggled with my modesty, particularly because it has never seemed to help me come race day. Now being the grown version of that wallflower child, embarrassment seems to set in when things are mentioned such as accolades or awards or achievements, or any of those "a-sort of" words. 

Yet, the realization was set in when receiving my award, mid-shake, and overhearing, "she has managed to set 3 American records..."

"I have 9 or 10!" I exclaimed (luckily) in my head. Starting to pay more attention to what was said, I wondered, "Where is the stuff about the Pan Am Games?"

Apparently, I must care... and apparently, I must be pretty proud.

Better late than not at all, right??

Time to Break the Break

When I decided to take a small break from the water, I didn't really anticipate the feelings that would follow. Longing, unease, restlessness... I feel like I'm in the middle of a very torrid and prolonged break-up of sorts.

It's terrible.

I feel a constant sting in my gut, as if I am about to take off on a plane and have left all of my luggage at home. A part of me has been lost and the posters that I've nailed on street signs haven't aided a recovery in the slightest.

I am on day 3 of a supposed 4-day break. It has been over a year and a half since I have taken a break from swimming this long (that is if you don't count the forced 4 days that I had to recover from a minor surgery last year). I know as an athlete and as a coach that bodies need time to recover and recuperate from time to time. I know that I have been fighting sneaky viruses that have made their homes in my larynx, sinuses, and nose over the last two weeks. I know that my body is not as resilient as it used to be.

With all of that said, I'm jumping back in first thing in the morning. Three days is three days enough. I am still feeling the rumble of a (self-)shocking meet performance just over a week ago. After having been sick and lethargic for a few days, I hopped into the pool and swam 8 events in three sessions, coming within a second or two of all of my best times... and even re-breaking my favorite event American Record by over 14 seconds!

I'm on a good track, and I know this precisely because of my swim break. My life doesn't feel complete without swimming in it. So, the only thing to do is to get right back in and keep striving for my own greatest potential--my own human effort, with a smile and any grace that this clutzy girl on wheels can muster.