H2O

For 12 years I was known as a swimmer. And, just like any other athlete, I followed a routine that was dictated by the clock. I woke up at 4:44, dove into the pool at 5:15, followed a set that was bound by the clock, left the water at 6:45 and returned to the pool at 3:00 where I yet again followed more sets regulated by the clock. Summer training was even more rigorous. Every practice, stroke, flip turn and breath contributed toward my pursuit for the perfect technique that would result in the desired time standard.

As swimmers we have a lot of sayings that we live by:

• Green hair is beautiful. 
• Chlorine is my perfume.
• Goggle tan lines are attractive.
• You know you're a swimmer when "IM" doesn't mean "instant messaging."
• I can eat 5000 calories a day without feeling guilty.
• If I have one day to live, please take me to a swim meet because they last forever!
• We do more flips in an hour than gymnasts do in a season.

We'd laugh at these from time to time and refer to them when asked why we went through the demanding training. But one saying truly captures how I felt about swimming:

"H2O: Two parts heart, one part obsession."  

Your heart had to be committed to swimming. There was no way you could survive a practice that literally took your breath away, without your heart being in it. I came to love the feeling that came after completing a set and being left lifeless on the couch. Being depleted of energy but still having to go to school, work, and continue to practice became a challenge for me. I loved stepping up on the blocks at a meet despite being sore from the previous practice. Nothing is more fulfilling than swimming well when you're exhausted.

It's "two parts heart" because you have to love the joys and the heartaches that come with swimming. It's easy to love swimming when you're improving and accomplishing your goals, but the real challenge comes after that unexpected race. The race where you stepped up on the block feeling confident. You raced so hard that your entire body burned from the lack of oxygen. But you didn't care. The goal was to complete the race as fast as possible. The stroke count, the flip turn, the kick--everything mattered. Yet, you didn't seem to go any faster. The seconds on the face of the clock slipped away just like the water in your hands. The minutes following a well-fought but undesired race are what make or break a swimmer. It isn't the victory that makes a true athlete, it's what an athlete does with the defeat that defines them. The swimmer with "two parts heart" in the sport loves swimming for more than just the triumphs. The defeat becomes motivation for the next race, not a road block.

Then there's the obsession part. This is what woke me up before civilization to return to the pool yet again. And, every time I see a 5-gallon bucket I want to attach it to me while I swim. Then there's the swim suits. It became a challenge to put on the competition suits that were two-sizes-too-small. Oh, and just in case you didn't know, oxygen is overrated. The lane lines, the flags, the blocks, and the scent of chlorine is all so familiar to me. The pool became my home. 

And, yes. I am still obsessed with every bit of swimming. You may take the swimmer out of the pool, but you can't take the pool out of the swimmer. I still wake up before civilization and lay in bed until a decent hour. And, nothing excites me more than a whiff of chlorine. However, the real challenge comes from wanting to still eat 5000 calories a day. Then it hit me...why don't I swim any more? This way I make use of waking up early, return to the smell of chlorine and eat like I use to! I swam for 12 years; I can make it back to the water. Sounds simple enough.

Step one: make it to the pool.