To be completely transparent, I jumped into the pool today with my makeup on just so I could reserve a lap lane as the pool was filling up, and when I flipped my camera on selfie-mode so I could make sure I wiped my makeup off as quickly as possible, I accidentally took this photo. I’m glad I have it to remind me of a swim practice that changed my life.
I don’t like water and I don’t know why. I don’t have a near-death swimming story, but maybe deep down I’m afraid that each entry into the pool has the capacity to become one. From learn-to-float lessons when I was seven to an inspiring friend teaching me to swim four years ago to a current coach, I still struggle. I’m not as afraid of the water as I once was, but I still run out of breath and choke.
Enter today. Enter man in lane next to me. He begins talking, and I affirm what he’s saying in one-word answers and eyebrow raises, trying not to give full answers so we don’t engage further and so he doesn’t see me, as an otherwise athletic person, struggle. Then he’ll be like the other well-meaning lane neighbors who time and again start offering swimming advice they think I’ve never heard of because I wouldn’t be performing so poorly if I knew what to do. My attempts are futile with the current lane neighbor because I can’t hide so well in a three-lane pool.
“I used to swim a mile here: that’s 32 lengths,” he explains. “But that was five years ago.”
“Still, that’s so impressive! Wow!”
“No, it’s not: you could do it, too. How many laps do you do now?”
“No, I, uh…less than half that. I keep—“
“No, you could do it. I’m up to 16 right now, and it’s my second time back in five years. You’re faster than I am: I saw you. You can do this.”
I nod in affirmation and thank him, and I keep trying. Kick board, choke, pull buoy, choke, adjust goggles, repeat. On my break to drink electrolytes and water, the lane neighbor pops up again.
“You can do 32 laps.”
I don’t think he sees that I hang out at the wall at the end of every few 25M lengths, snot rocketing and rubbing mascara out of my goggles. Again.
“It’s like this, ya see: I don’t tell myself I am going to swim 32: I swim 4.”
Blank stare from me.
“I swim 4. Then I start over: I swim 4 again. Two more times, and I’ve swam half a mile.”
“Oh, yeah yeah, 16 is half a mile.”
“And I keep on like that to 32. It’s amazing what the mind can do. I was in the military, and they told me that I’d have to do this and that, have to scale part of a wall, have to repel off the side of a cliff, and I looked at them and said, ‘I can’t do that.’ ‘Yes, you can,’ they said. And you know what? I did it. And I tell myself to swim 4. And then 4 more. And soon enough, that’s 32. That’s my goal over this next year. And you can do it.”
“Wow. So basically, I should never count to five.”
“What? Oh! Hahaha, I guess not!”
“Haha, no, but yes, our minds are powerful. I’ll try that.”
“Have a good day, now!” And he left.
And I stared down a lap lane, not with 32 lengths in mind, but with a couple sets of four. Could I do it? …Well, I can do four.
So I dove in, counted, tried to focus on different aspects of what my coach identified as weak spots. I did have to stop when the kiddie pool got rowdy and a preteen threw his foam ball from there into my lane and brazenly came in to get it, but by then, I was on 3-1: third set of four, length one of four. I spent the rest of the length trying to figure out how I’d actually completed 9 lengths already: was it true? It was. And sooner than later, another set was under my belt.
This post is not about the power of our minds alone, nor about the power of our minds over and above science, aerobic training, or cardiovascular health. It is about the power of our minds in combination with those things, along with a hefty dose of encouragement. I had the best swim practice of my life because some random guy told me to break my goal down into smaller steps. I needed a change of perspective. I also needed to be humble enough to engage with, listen to, and receive from others.
I share this quirky dialogue alongside a personal struggle to encourage you that victory may actually be quite near.
Talk to yourself the way you talk to your best friend (which is probably more positive and kinder than your mental narrative). Be willing to listen to others and reframe your perspective in return. Remember that God answers prayer in unexpected ways.
And don’t count to five.