Subtle Sacrifices for Success

With the school year winding down, not only does an influx of worry about failing children, creating 150-question biology finals, and getting all my $70 textbooks back; but I now have an additional worry that has crept in. Currently, it is sort of hard for me to call it such--seeing as I chose this for myself, but nonetheless deciding to drop down to a part-time biology and anatomy teacher next year has added a new and strange layer to this end-of-the-year stress.

I am choosing to be a part-time teacher so that I can concentrate on being a full-time athlete, and potentially start doing some motivational speeches of sort as well as work on developing a disabled women athlete team of my own. I am extremely excited to have these opportunities and the childlike mind to make decisions like these for myself. I have never been a very good adult in the sense of money nor obligation, so this choice was made even more easy by the amazing support presented by my cohorts and administrators at school.

However scary it may seem, I know that I am making the right choice. In fact, once it was finalized, rather than be bombarded by anxiety and butterflies, I surprisingly felt empowered and confident in not only my swimming abilities, but in all my abilities.

So here I sit attempting to figure out how to make up the 40% pay cut for next year. No worries though, I have a plan, or 15! Here's a list of subtle sacrifices I am willing to make beginning NOW:
1. Television that doesn't come from the internet
2. Heating my house with a thermostat
3. Frozen yogurt... well, at least frequent frozen yogurt
4. Random road trips
5. Just-because-you-are-so-stinkin'-cute gifts for my niece
6. The thought of ever getting gutters or painting my house
7. Getting fancy-esque haircuts
8. Any groceries that aren't a "Sooper Card value"
9. On that same note, Whole Foods at all
10. Automobile air-conditioning
11.Getting my bicycle and racing chair tuned this summer
12. Trash service once a week
13. Printing out potential sponsorship letters in colored ink
14.Showers at home... which (sadly) shouldn't be that much of a sacrifice
15. The infamous Grande Soy Latte

There are more, and there will be many more I'm sure... but I have never been so excited to cut out so much stability and comfort out of my life as I am today!

Some People

I can't shake it. I know that it doesn't matter what one person said or thinks about my current quest, but I just can't help but allow that negativity to ooze its way in and attempt permanent residence in my cerebrum. Stupid human nature.

When asked about my swimming, it is very typical that my eyes will achieve a brilliant sparkle, reminiscent of the pool itself. Most likely, my tone will increase a few octaves in excitement and my aura will start to sing--at least that is how it all feels. I feel so alive sharing my dreams with others. I feel so blessed to express my experiences in words and gestures and have others recognize those feelings in my heart. However, I didn't realize until now that not everyone shares my same zest for swimming, nor competition, nor following passions, nor living out dreams.

The decrescendo of my elation was direct effect to the blatant discredit of my dream. In the middle of explaining my pride for making the US Parapan Am Team and the added bonus of having some gear and costs provided by the US Paralympic Team, that negativity put a direct stop to step: "I wish someone would pay me to do my hobby!"

Whoa. I was immediately crushed. I didn't realize that the word "hobby" could have such a discredited connotation. Stopped my voice, stopped my sparkle, stopped my heart... for a second.

Quickly, I was forced back into my own reality--the one I prefer-- and I am lucky to have not been able to escape it for long. My reality tells me that my quest is important. Not only for myself, but for those that need to see that it's okay to believe in yourself. Even though I am still stuck on these words and this comment, I know that there isn't anything I could ever do to make some people understand. People that don't understand would never want the life I have set for myself anyway. People that don't understand won't necessarily fund my next swim trip or cheer at my next race, but I definitely know many more that will.

Where I am right now is due, in part, to those who have held me up to the standard of independence and strength, to grace and will, and to love and resilience. Where I am right in this very moment is a place of much joy and pride and, even though I can't make some people feel or understand, I can continue to sparkle and smile and try my very hardest for the rest of the world, myself included.

Registration Recognition

I'm not sure about the other athletes, but this is a big deal to me. For the most part, the majority of the other 24 athletes that made the Parapan Am Team are used to this. They have done this before. Some, I suspect, were even unhappy that they didn't make a better selection team. However, for me, this is beyond what I ever thought imaginable for myself.

In order to officially be a part of the team, each one of us is to register online with the USOC directly for the event. Being the neurotic and carefully planned out soul that I am, I had to get it done quick. Am I worried that they are going to reject my team nomination? Perhaps. Am I concerned that it is more involved than it appears and it will actually take me going to get a new passport or searching for a notary or participating in a scavenger hunt of sorts for specific signatures? Maybe. The safest bet is that I am just neurotic and like things done as soon as I can muster the energy to do them. Otherwise, who knows what could happen, right?!

So as it was, I spent no less than five hours trying to finagle the exact dimensions of a required head shot photo. No smile. White background. 50-512 kB. 35mm x 45mm.... Students couldn't help me, Kinko's couldn't help me; so I spent the better half of my days after school last week cursing at my computer screen. Once that was finally set, I sat down at a cafe to complete the rest.

Much to my chagrin, I had forgotten to figure out my physical measurements in the privacy of my own home. So, with measuring tape in hand, I proceeded to measure hips and waist and inseam and sleeve length and chest right there, sitting at the local Starbucks. Measurements in tow, I was now completely and finally ready.

The whole registration process was supposed to take about half an hour, so said the directions. It took me well over two, no surprise. I wanted to be precise. I wanted to make sure that I made no errors-- especially since I am extremely prone to such specifically when one is NOT supposed to make errors (ie. flight bookings). I wanted to make sure that my answers were the best possible reflection of who I am as a swimmer and as an individual.

Questions ranged from high school accolades to superstitions. I wrote out family contacts and history. I typed up answers about what makes me unique. I produced lists of music that I listen to and facts that no one knows about me.

The most remarkable part about this entire registration process, was surprisingly not the fact that it was so thorough nor random; but rather the fact that I kept encouraging and reminding myself that this is the biggest thing that I have ever known for me thus far.

It is big, not in the sense of competition or even sport, but for the sense that 10 months ago I made a promise to myself to try my best and enjoy the ride. There I sat, at a little cafe table covered in paperwork, my laptop, a giant latte drink, inconspicuous measuring tape, and a smile registering for a event that displays with undoubted clarity, the amount of work and care and love that I have put into this part of my life for the past 10 months.

I still remember that day that I made that promise to myself. I was making secret trips to swim while on doctor prescribed bed rest. Swimming was the only thing that could fill my heart at that point and, for the first time ever, my brain recognized it too...

PARAPANic!

You wouldn't know it's been almost a week since my Nationals meet. My shoulders are still reminding me of every single second of it. However, the clothes on my bedroom floor are reminding me to get back to work and back to the "real" world. But what is that?

I now realize that I have been living a dual existence for several months now: socially-awkward biology teacher by day, while something entirely different at other times both before dawn and dusk alike.

My training is slowly creating its own persona. At the gym, I am commented upon on a regular basis... the hours that I spend in the pool, the ever-growing size of my biceps (when will that stop?!), the insane amount of gear that I carry... Although, I am happy to announce that I don't believe a single word of it.

One thing that is getting increasingly hard though is coming back. Coming back to a daily routine and leaving behind the excitement of the competition surprisingly leaves holes and aches in my heart-- a feeling that I have only known once before, when leaving India. My heart is telling me that this is something important, this is something to hold on to.

This week has been a whirlwind. I have spent most of it nursing my shoulders, forearms, and hands. I have listened to their woes and rocked them to sleep at night. Beyond that, I have spent a lot of time in my head. I have been bantering with myself about the importance/unimportance of me making a selection team.

See, the National meet also doubled as a selection meet for both the Parapan/Am Games as well as the Parapan/Pac Meet, and I was trying desperately to forget about that. However, my innate neuroses led my fingers to my keyboard no less than 200 times per day, checking for any sort of indication or update that the list was out. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore--so Thursday morning, before I even had a chance to say "good morning" to the sun, I was cycling back and forth in my aquatic haven when I ultimately decided that I was not going to make a select team and that was completely okay. Fine. Done.

Flash-forward 6 hours to me scarfing my favorite of microwaved burritos while taking that 8 minutes alloted in my day to actually take in a mindful breath, when my inbox dinged at me the way a petite cartoon mouse's doorbell would. I could barely look with both eyes.

After giving myself the necessary encouragement to even open the email, I did it and held onto my breath tightly. In typical form, I--no doubt--was playing off of a lack of confidence the entire time; because, lo and behold, the email title was, "2011 Parapan American Team Nominees."

I scrolled down with eyes and cursor, skimming words like, "congratulations" and "training camp" and even another "CONGRATULATIONS"... though I was still in disbelief. A mistake? A rude mass email that goes to all athletes?

No.

I made the team.

In 7 months I have coached myself the best way that I know how and apparently someone else noticed. In 7 months I have turned a love for swimming into a LOVE for swimming. In 7 months I have transformed and created a powerful competitor that can't wait to continue to try.

So, patting my shoulders and sending them care, I start training for the biggest thing I have ever known. The Parapan/Am Games will be held in Guadalajara, Mexico in November. They are estimating nearly 140 athletes from the US to compete in 13 different sports for their country, and I will be one of them.

Loving Every Second of It

Think of the most simple, yet powerful emotion that you can muster... something so full of life and energy, but has the capacity to be shared by all and through all. It's really not as tough as it seems. 

LOVE.

I recognized this as I was warming up for my 50 backstroke final on Friday night. I was searching high and low, between the sulci and crevasses of my brain, and realized in one earth-shattering synapse, that it all lies in the realm of love.

Love is something that is earnest, it is pure. Love can conquer all, at least according to most current pop songs on the radio. Love can exist and should exist for everyone. John Lennon understood it. I'm pretty sure even that crotchety old man that cut in front of you in line knew it at one time too.

Love is, undoubtedly, the most powerful emotion that anyone can get captured in. It causes us to lose sight of our surroundings and even causes us to ignore ourselves. Love can rage wars and usurp liberties. 

And so it was LOVE that I found in the warm-up session that Friday night. 

I was terribly worried about not understanding how to sprint. It had to be quick and well-planned, without utilizing much thought in the actual moment of it all. It had to be controlled, yet fierce. It had to be real. 

As I searched through my Rolodex of emotions, I quickly realized that it was much more simple than I was trying to make it. I was attempting mathematical calculations to try to understand the sprint, when all I really had to do was understand how much I truly LOVE it.

I love the way swimming puts me in an underwater world in which it is only my breath and body making rhythmic sounds. I love how swimming pushes my muscles to their exhausted limits. I love how swimming has become an example for understanding the power of the human effort. I love the way that swimming takes me away from my wheels and my mind for moments at a time. I love how I can connect with my whole body underwater. 

And with that, I swam my sprint with nothing but pure love. 

As it turns out, I took off nearly 6 seconds from that morning's race simply just by loving every second of it.

In the Company of Competition

So far, this meet has  influenced me to think a lot about the nature of COMPETITION. I am learning as the events are swum that my idea of competition may be far different from many, many others'.

To me, competition is about being the best that YOU can be. It is about preparing and finding your own way into the "zone". Competition is developed through a pure motivation that involves YOU, and YOU alone. There is no sense of desiring to beat anyone. As a matter of fact, there is no such thing as anyone else.

This is what I have always felt about competition.

But being here, at this Nationals meet, I am surrounded by many people who are not only very interested in MY swimming, but are well educated on my status as well. It is strange to be focusing on your next race, mentally preparing your brain to do the work that your body knows, only to get interrupted in the distance by a coach explaining to her swimmer how I swim that event. It is also strange to see another swimmer and coach sit at the end of my warm-up lane, observing intently with little chatter. One can only speculate, but in that speculation, these observers became my own spectators.

For whatever the reason, there are many competitors that set their sights beyond their own competition. They make goals to beat certain swimmers, friends even, and that becomes their spark of motivation. I am having a very hard time understanding these notions, and while I am good at tucking them away and focusing on myself, I can't help but wonder WHY...

In Pursuit of A Superhero

In a town that had no story and certainly no song, the color had drained from all life and a sense of helplessness and uncertainty lingered alongside stench and garbage. This town was desperate for some good luck, or a paint job, or a savior, or a change. This town, with no story nor song, needed something or someone to fix it, because--by the looks of things--there was little hope that the town would make it much longer on its own.

This town needed a superhero.

This town needed someone to fly in on a parade of hope and swoop down into the crowd showering onlookers with smiles and chocolate bars. The superhero would be strong and brave, willing to knock some sense in any troublemaker and ship them far, far away from this Neverland. The superhero would also be kind and charismatic; with one single graceful effort of plucking a misguided kitten from a tree and sharing hot jasmine tea with the mayor. The superhero would be highly regarded by all and would seem never the wiser. And this superhero would bring the color back to this poor, forsaken town.

But, we may live a lifetime without seeing that flowing cape or the smile of that fated superhero that was going to save everything. What a lovely thought to have a superhero swoop down and shower me with love and chocolates and rescued kittens.

However lovely it may seem, it is wrong to hope for something or someone else to make your life more special or defined or fragrant or meaningful. Both the problem and the solution lie within one's self.

I am my own superhero. I have learned, in just a few short months, that I can be strong and charismatic and graceful and confident. I am completely capable of taking a stinky old town and making it beautiful and happy once again. I am also capable of transforming dreams into goals, and goals into accomplishments, and accomplishments into even more dreams to come.

I am my own superhero. I don't need anyone else to come and save me or my kitten. I am ready for any obstacle or roadblock that may cross my path, for I have powers that, I now know, created that very path in the first place.