Fear of the Water

I stood on the edge of the pool staring at the expanse of water in front of me.

50 metres might just as well be 50 kilometres, but just getting here was an accomplishment, I thought to myself, trying to buck myself up.

The water was like glass in the early morning emptiness. Trepidation on tippy-toes I prepared to plunge in. As I hit the water shockwaves radiated outward through the water and inward though my now rapidly cooling warm body.

I treaded water at the edge as I adjusted my goggles and my breathing as I prepared for my workout. I took a deep breath; a cross between a gasp and a sigh and pushed off the wall.

I can do this, I thought as I started out. Arms, legs and breathing all finding their rhythm; like old friends falling into step next to each other. It has been a long time, old friends.

I have no fear of water, quite truthfully, I love the water. I think I might have known how to swim before I knew how to crawl. I love the feel of water as I make my way though it, I always imagined it’s as close to flight as I will ever get. When I was young, I loved to do flips and turns and swim deep under the surface feeling like I was floating, weightless, boundless and free; gliding almost effortlessly like a bird soaring on an updraft.

Now, like an old friend, I was buoyed up by its presence (literally) and hoped that the soothing rhythm of my stoke and the presence of my old friend water would buoy my spirits and placate my panic.

But as the workout progressed the panic didn’t wane; and I began to wonder if my shortness of breath has as much to do with my faintness of heart as my farness from fitness.

That was where the panic truly lay.

Though I have panicked in water before; it was murky and something solid brushed up against my leg – I still have issues with murky water (childhood trauma can be so debilitating); I have no fear of drowning. I have been in the midst of hundreds of other swimmers in an open water race; limbs and water churning, buffeting me about and I have swam past the accidental punches and wayward kicks and I have succeeded every time. Water itself is not my enemy.

My panic lay not in the substrate in which I swam but in the subtext that my brain supplied. I had not swum in months (probably 10, my brain chirped in – trust my brain to do the math), and the race was (and is) a mere 6 weeks away. I am (as my brain pointed out) wholly unprepared for this year’s race, so the fear that strikes at me today is the fear of lack of fitness.

Even having said that, it’s not the fear of fitness, as much as the ego that I keep claiming not to have that keeps bopping me in the head when I’m not paying attention; I don’t fear not finishing the race, I fear not being happy with my resultant time. Most people don’t understand that, they see the completion of the race (it’s not an easy race; swim 2 kilometres, ride 90 kilometres and then run 21 kilometres) as an achievement in itself; and maybe it is, but I still see it as not enough. It’s not enough merely to complete the race, but I must better my time, I must improve.

Ah Ego, there you are bud, thanks for the headache.

So I splash out the workout, lamenting the lost months of training and the slow pace I find myself struggling to maintain and I realize I have to let go of my old pal Ego and just embrace my old friend water.

Ego just weighs me down (like the literal excess cargo I’m shuttling around on my backside); I cannot make up for lost workouts, I can’t triple the intensity to rapidly regain my former fitness glory; all I can do is that this year’s race will be what it is, my performance (good, bad, or ugly) will be what it will be. SO I must somehow bop Ego on the head or at the very least, just ignore him and get on with my training.

I must embrace my buoyant friend water and my training buddies, running shoes and bicycle and just enjoy the next six weeks of training and the challenge of the race itself. No fear, no panic, no Ego; just some fun times with some old and SUPPORTIVE friends.