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.

Whispers in the Wind

There's a whisper in the wind. There's always a whisper in the wind, but it's up to each of us to chose to listen to it.

Lately there has been a lot of wind. Whistling, swirling, lingering, and trying to tell me something.

It is no secret that my confidence, particularly in my swimming, has remained to be one of the most weighing and troubling parts of this journey. However, the wind has called my name and has reminded me of most of those things that I am unwilling to accept from others, and by no means able to produce myself.

Swirls and calls of those things that I have accomplished, yet neglected to see: being selected as an example of a Paralympic swimmer at a sport demo event in Boulder, being named Colorado Sportswoman of the Year for Paralympics this year, and receiving a few recent donations from strangers that, too, would tell me those same things that I am only willing to hear from the nonchalance of the wind.

On some level, I have come so far in this journey; yet still so far away from seeing an end in sight.

This weekend I will drive down to the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs to compete in my last swim competition before the Paralympic Trials in June. I recognized, for the first time today as I was packing that this could very well be the last time I will ever have the opportunity to compete in this prestigious athletic facility-- and, in some part, this own exotic world of Paralympic swimming.

I haven't made a plan beyond the Paralympic Trials. I have done so, or not done so, quite intentionally. I haven't wanted to look into that future just yet-- I'd rather enjoy the anticipation of today. However, when my own monologue realized that this may be the end, I just breathed into the wind and let it finally know that I have been listening, and that I'm not ready to be done just yet.

That Quiet Underneath

When I am swimming and underwater, it is so much like being somewhere else. There are so few sounds, no voices, little distraction... just me and that quiet underneath.

Underwater there aren't things like bills to pay or mortgages to fret about.
There are no fears of not making it.
Worries of disappearing eyebrows (thanks to that very chlorine wonderland, no doubt) diminish into rising bubbles.

Underwater there isn't a time to say the wrong thing.
There are no students failing, nor struggling to be something more than just a student.
Words like "can't" or "won't" don't exist under the surface of the water.

Underwater there aren't rejection letters for grant proposals, or sponsorships, or manuscript queries.
There isn't any piling laundry.
Facebook, Twitter, and email cannot possibly thrive at such depths.

Underwater there is no miscommunication between friends.
There aren't any wheelchairs.
Juggling multiple lives within the same body just isn't a necessary part of floating among the blueish tiles.

Underwater there is no need for shoveling snow, twelve times over.
There are no restrictions to one's movement or mobility.
Imaginations swim widely underneath the surface of the water.

Underwater there aren't any due dates or deadlines.
There are no crowds that look straight beyond the individual.
Insensitivity, ignorance, and selfishness definitely don't know how to swim.

Yet, all of these things DO exist beyond the water's surface; but being able to escape them for moments at a time make it that much easier to approach them once I am through with that quiet underneath.

Just as I tend to escape and swim straight from many, very real, aspects of my life there are also ones that I wish that I could take with me on my underwater journey, as well as ones that I know I miss out on while swirling around tiles and blowing bubbles.

I think what is really important is that I have that underwater haven to retreat to, reflect on, and then rise from. Without it, I wouldn't know how to react to many parts of my life-- as well as find what's truly important. I have found that those things that I long to be with me underwater are the very things that matter most in my life; and those things that I dare to escape from, are really not so hard once I reemerge.

Canon Documentary from the Wonderful Sharon Levy Freed