A DRIVE of More Than SURVIVE

A new friend and source of great encouragement asked me today about my training. Not in the how-much-yardage-sense or even in the what-kind-of-sets-do-you-do-sense, but rather in a sense far more meaningful.

He asked me about my DRIVE.

I babbled on about being on bed rest forever and how that made me rethink so many aspects of my life, and most importantly swimming. I continued on a sing-songy path of notions of undone dreams and resurfaced passions. I could have gone on for at least another ten minutes, when he stopped me...

"I'm sure that had an impact. But I know it's something else. Something inside of you that you don't even fully understand that you possess." He uttered so nonchalantly as if my shoe was untied or something.

Given a moment, I recalled the time I spent in the hospital after my initial accident. I often wonder about this time in my life, because so many people ask about it. People want to know about the struggles and deafening blow of realizing that I was going to be paralyzed. What I tell everyone who asks is that it wasn't that way at all for me. I woke up and started working. I started working on strengthening my neck enough to lift my head off the bed. I started working on breathing without a ventilator machine. I started working on sitting in a wheelchair. I started working on pushing a wheelchair. I started working on regaining muscle enough to be able to lift my legs with my own hands.

I started working towards this new life with little mind to what this life would actually be like. There was no dramatic movie-moment of me sobbing and thrashing as the result of learning I'd never walk again. It just didn't happen.

As my new friend pointed out that his thought of my DRIVE being inborn, I was brought back to those very early moments in the hospital. Perhaps he is right, and I should thank him twelve times over and invite him and his family for dinner. Perhaps I should also let that thought into my own brain-- let it swim around for a bit and give my good old confidence a good smack on the lips.

Yes, I think I will just that.

A Lot to Say

If you are wondering why I haven't written much lately, it's because I have been writing A LOT lately...

Apparently I am making it official by writing about it on my blog, because up until now, I have been sort of whispering about it from afar. I am writing a book.


Now, I have done this sort of thing before-- said that I was writing a book. After I got back from India I started writing a book, about eight different times. I kept thinking that it should be so easy to take those things that I had put in my blog and make it a book, but it wasn't. I scrapped it every single time and shoved it straight into my trashcan icon on my laptop.

This time is different, however. I can feel that it's different--not only in thought, but in heart, and also in form. I am sticking to it and enjoying every chapter and every word as it comes pouring out of my head and into my fingertips as they translate it into actual print that (hopefully) will be read by smiling eyes someday.

I was hoping to have this endeavor completed by the time I started back up at school in the fall, but that just might not be realistic. Writing is hard, but writing about your own life's struggles and victories is even harder. This book is going to be considered a creative non-fiction in genre, which means that it is based off of my life and I also get to be as colorful and poetic with my words that I want to be. This is a perfect combination for me here.

I am now ten solid chapters and well over 20,000 words deep into this thing and am glad that it is finally happening. This writing and storytelling is so therapeutic and cathartic for me, and I don't think this could happen at a better time for me. Within every chapter, I am uncovering things about myself that I wasn't necessarily aware of or wanted to confront. I am peeling back layers of decades and distractions. I am realizing that some of the most brief moments and encounters have made some of the most lasting effects.

I am realizing that I have a lot to say.

Latest FOX 31 News Segment

 

Camera Shy Ry

"Smile...smile? Ryan, is everything okay?"

"I am smiling!"

"You look like you just got hit on by the most repulsive man in the world."

Sadly, this is not the first time I've heard this. 

Last week, I had the potential pleasure of getting photographed with my new team as our first publicity shots to use in our media kits and the like. I guess I quickly forget my neuroses of picture taking, that is until that wide-eyed camera is blinking directly in my face. 

The girls were confused at first by my anxiety while I waited for my turn. I gave them the Reader's Digest version of my historical terror with smiling for photographs, but I am still quite certain that nobody really understood. That is, until it was my turn. 

When I was a kid, I used to create smiles of full-teeth and gums, as the outward attempt to show my overall, inward happiness. Isn't that what you are supposed to do? At any rate, that smile stuck and there was simply no turning back nor alterations possible to this frightening smile. 

As I grew up and photos chronicled those moments in time, I became increasingly more and more aware of this "cheesy smile" and less and less excited to show it off. So, I began doing the only thing I could think of: NOT smile. I found ways around it by making funny faces and shying away completely; which has worked for the most part, but now there was no getting out of it. 

However, in a few tortuous minutes the photographer had managed to make me laugh enough to capture those natural images rather than the ones that I had unsuccessfully prefabricated. Thank goodness for good humor and patience. 

Here's the final result:

Not too bad... but I really hope that this will hold me over for awhile...

Steamy Mayonnaisey Paralyzing Parasite

 In all my life and all my dreaming and fantasizing, I never imagined this.

I was hoping to share my experiences from the Olympic Training Center a few days ago, but I truly feel like it has taken me this long just to even process the whole thing.

Going into this training camp and meet, I knew that I had accomplished something and I knew to be proud of my efforts; however, in my typical detrimentally modest fashion I had no clue how BIG this actually was.

It first hit me when I saw tour groups snapping photos of my deer-in-headlights self while attempting to determine my strategy for entry into this pool completely not designed with me in mind. As moments ticked on, I felt glimpses of the intensity of being a member of the US Team for the ParaPan American Games. "You are now here to represent the US," kept buzzing in my ears.

The Team took "classes" on how to handle media requests, packing, and foreign competitors. We learned about the Village that was currently under construction and how Homeland Security would be our new best friends in Guadalajara. We even spent some time peeing in front of people to determine that we were as clean and sound in body as we appeared to be. The entire time, I sat stunned-- most likely resembling something of a codfish-- all the while attempting to keep a cool demeanor about it all. After all, I am the oldest member of this team, so I need to act like it. Right?

The meet was only a portion of these blurred events. Choosing to swim ten events, including the mile, was probably a bit optimistic in hindsight; however, I was glad to push myself through it (now that it's over with). I fared well in my events, although not particularly pleased with any of them. For the most part I felt as if I were swimming in a steamy whirlpool with the consistency of mayonnaise. I hate mayonnaise. My times completely reflected my dissonance with said steamy mayonnaise-- although I know I am stronger and more technically ready than ever before. I still don't know how to rationalize the meet. Stupid steamy mayonnaise.

Truly, I can only blame myself. I suppose the mayonnaise is really just a metaphor for that thing that always gets in the way: my brain.

Watching my competitors walk to the blocks, I couldn't help but wonder what I actually contribute to this team. I try as I might to keep a smile and a ferocious fight; however, once again my lack of confidence in my own capabilities prevailed.

This is starting to become a serious problem.

It feels like a virus that I can't shake. No matter the amount of rest or vitamins (which I am no longer advised to take, thanks to USADA) or protein I provide for my body, I can't seem to recover from this parasitic and paralyzing form within me.

So now it's my turn, really this time, to take care of this. My issues with confidence obviously bleed through in other aspects of my life and I am finally fed up. I don't deserve to live like this and I owe it to myself to take my live-in-paralyzing-parasite-of-a-feeling and smash it to pieces.

So, hear's to you-- steamy mayonnaisey paralyzing parasite-- may you be put to shame and rest in peace, my friend. Goodbye forever.

What's So Scary About Today?

The plan was to get up at 6AM to finish packing. In all my years of setting alarms, I can think of only one other time in which I actually managed that quintessential time-oopsie of setting for PM rather than AM.  My subconscious was probably requesting the additional sleep.

Regardless, I arose at 7:23AM, a little groggy from extending frantic packing late into the night, but refreshed and ready to take on today.

So few people really understand these intense emotions that I have while preparing for this training camp. Words that should make me feel better, reducing the pressure slightly, tend to send me over the edge. I realize that the Jimi Flowers Meet is not a qualifier for anything, and merely timed-finals. I realize that I have made the ParaPan American Games Team and that they aren't going to kick me off of it for no reason. I realize so many things that are rational and true about this experience, but there is so much more to it that is difficult for me to explain.

But nevertheless, I'll TRY...

No matter the meet, big or small, it is no different to me. I will not try any less this weekend than I did at Nationals. I will not treat the meet with any less seriousness or ferociousness. I, wholeheartedly, acknowledge the fact that I am a complete lunatic for signing up for 10 events in two days, but I need to swim as much as possible to give myself the opportunity to improve. If you don't compete in it, you have no chance of improvement.

I need to put my best foot forward, figuratively. I know myself well enough to know that when I am driven by nerves, I tend to shut down socially and crawl into a dark space, deep within my psyche and stay there until I feel safe again. I cannot afford to have this happen. I want my coaches and teammates to see me for who I really am. I want so honestly to be an asset to this team, being one of the--if not the--oldest member. I want to be able to impart certain wisdoms and mindful thinking to those that I interact with most in my professional life, the fifteen-year-olds-- of which there are a ton of. I desire to be an athlete that is as good in the water as out of the water.

Lastly, knocking down the walls of my character is that ever-present notion of confidence. Why can I STILL not shake it? There are voices that swirl inside of me questioning everything. At one point, in fact, I had convinced myself that the Paralympic Committee had made a mistake with me, accidentally put me on the email list and now they felt too bad to tell me the truth. Seriously? With thoughts like these its no wonder how I even manage to function during the day. I have spent the better part of the last two weeks really searching for that confidence-- I know it's in there somewhere. The negativity has so much power, to the point where it steals my breath and attempts to choke me. BUT I know that I am better than that. I know that I deserve this. I know that it is okay to let my hard work pay its own way. (Even writing this, I feel those emotions start churning from deep within, like an impending hurricane, shoving glimpses of the tide upwards through my eyes.) I guess the scariest part of it all is the fact that I am well-aware that the only thing that may hold me back from utter greatness... is me.

However, I am ready to face it. I am. I really think that this week is going to be a true testament to the power my mind has and the urge to collaborate with success. I am ready to move forward and to be able to say that I deserve to be on the US Team and that I AM part of the US Team.

So now I am off to swim, all alone, one last time for the next several days. I will head down to Colorado Springs to check-in in the dorms sometime around 3PM. Once I get settled in, my brain should follow...

In Less Than A Week

In less than a week I will be finished with my first swim meet at the Olympic Training Center.
In less than a week I will be staying in a dorm for the first time in over a decade.
In less than a week I will be quietly nervous, yet soaking it all in.
In less than a week I will swim a mile race for the first time.
In less than a week I will be able to swim in front of family and friends like I had when I was a kid.
In less than a week I will be challenging myself with the continual overwhelming battle of self-confidence.
In less than a week I will know if that strange breaststroke I've been training is working or not.
In less than a week I will absorb all of the coaching and criticism that I have been significantly lacking this whole time.
In less than a week I will meet my team.
In less than a week I will pack suit after suit, all the while dreaming for one that says, "USA".
In less than a week I will put those fears and worries of the unknown behind me, because I will be DOING it.
In less than a week I will have swum 10 events in a 2-day meet.
In less than a week I will take a moment to realize that last year at this time I was on bed rest.
In less than a week I will feel comfortable with the likes of so many amazing, elite athletes.
In less than a week I will know what it feels like to come so far.
In less than a week I will be reminded why I took this leap in the first place, since my checking account tends to remind me otherwise.
In less than a week I will feel proud and inspired and ready to propel forward.
In less than a week I will, once again, find that inner fire that keeps me going and knowing that this is RIGHT.
In less than a week I will be ready.