Claustrophobia is Drowning

Over the years I've become claustrophobic, and not in the cute, "Oh, she doesn't want to go into that cave," sort of way.  No, I have nightmares about a crazy guy entering my house and my only way of escape is following my boys through this terrifyingly tight attic space complete with twists and turns.  I push my oldest son through the final crevice and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to contort my body enough to fit.  Every time, I wake a hot sweaty mess thinking, "Damn, if my life ever depends on contortionist flexibility and tight corridors, I'm screwed!"

Claustrophobia transcends itself in the water.  There is no tighter space with a higher risk of suffocation than drowning!  No, I didn't know this right away.  I thought my funny side breath was caused by tight muscles, inexperience, and general dork-fishery.  For some reason I drop my driving arm every time I take a quick bite of air, there is nothing I can do to convince that propeller to stay put.  I decided a few weeks ago it was time to learn how to breathe on both sides.  Perhaps that would fix my form and provide a more fluid breathing pattern.  I did some research on maintaining proper form while breathing in the crawl stroke and the experiment I found was enlightening.

Try this: go to your local pool to where the water is about shoulder length deep.  Take a deep breath and sink into the water, expelling your air slowly out of your mouth so that by the time your butt hits the bottom you have absolutely no air left in your lungs.  Not one little ounce of air can remain but your mouth needs to stay wide open.  Then, completely out of oxygen, sit there for a count of 2.  Sounds simple right?  Nope, it is death defying, terrifying, pure panic inducing, craziness!  Holy crap it scared the junk out of me!  The goal is to perform the same exercise multiple times at the beginning of every trip to the pool until you can work your way to the deep end.  A 9-12 foot depth is ideal.

While I haven't worked my way past 6 feet deep, I've improved tremendously.  And I've realized the fear of holding my mouth open under water when I am almost out of breath is terrifying.  The problem is, tensing up in a panic makes me sink.  The more natural and relaxed my body remains, the better it floats, the better it glides.  It also takes half the effort.  Obviously when I run out of breath and my mouth remains open, gulping for air, while still under the surface, that is a major mistake in my stroke.  Something went hopelessly wrong.  It doesn't happen often, but the fear of the possibility is enough to mess with my head position in the water.  Instead of turning my head slightly to reach the surface, I jerked my head, twisted my shoulders, and dropped my legs.  That's ineffective, and slightly embarrassing when observed second-hand.

I know it is a stupid exercise, but I took it to heart because I wanted to find out exactly what was holding me back.  Clearly it was fear.  Since I've identified my fears, addressed them, and focused on relaxing, I've improved my form tremendously, and learned to flip turn!  I completed a continuous 2.4K today swimming the crawl stroke with flip turns at every end.  What other fears are holding me back and what other weird experiments can I perform to seek them out?


~Roadburner

Forget the Experts - I'm Goin' Solo

One month ago, my surgeon told me to run.  However, my defiant body doesn't give a crap what a doctor says.  I tried it three times, each a week apart, and only for one mile of running/walking.  My hips were so sore the day afterwards, I decided it wasn't worth trying again for at least a month.  This last month challenged my mind more than my body.  What's gotten sincerely old is everyone telling me, "Be patient, you're healing.  It will happen."  Never seeing dividends after the investment especially at the promised points along the calendar infuriated me.  Each week, my surgeon and physical therapist became more and more surprised as to how my range of motion keeps decreasing and the entire area remains inflamed. 

No, I am not doing too much.  I followed the instructions of the experts very closely.  I've taken this healing very personally and I've listened to my body more in the last 4 months than I have in my entire life.  I find it funny that nobody comments on someone's training regimen until they get hurt.  And once that person is injured, it's time to throw it their face, reminding them often they did this to themselves.  Suddenly, everyone and their mother is an expert on your healing and knows what's best, because you've clearly lost the ability to think for yourself.  (You're injured, remember?) 

I've learned that exercise is a large part of my identity and onlookers reminding me to be patient, or hang in there, is as condescending as telling a child not to play.  Exercise is how I relax and stay stable.  Not being able to sweat for a extended length of time is frustrating and excruciating.  I love running, but I've learned to adapt and take on new activities.  To me, that is the absolute definition of perseverance... patience.

Two weeks ago, I decided to say, "Forget the experts.  It's my body."  Clearly what they tell me, doesn't work.  For four months I've focused my attention to spinning on a stationary bike.  Some days it feels really good.  Others, I can't walk my kids to school after the workout.  I lay awake at night in pain.  It's a dull ache that slowly builds throughout the night like that annoying princess and her damn pea.  Now I'm that complaining brat, who survives off a few moments rest each night.  Damn.

Last June, I decided to learn to swim freestyle.  The first time in the pool I looked like a drowning chicken, so I enrolled in a private swim lesson to teach me the basics and hopefully a starting point. 

I survived the humiliation and came out with hoards of advice.  Seven months later, I still drop my arm a bit when I breathe from the opposite side.  I am slower than most taking 20 minutes to cover a half mile, but I've been persistent and I've improved.  I'm comfortable in the water and can breathe from either side.  My pool workouts are becoming less cardio efforts, and more of a sustained fat burn. 
 

After my private lesson everyone looked around to see if there was someone ready to drive me home.  I couldn't understand why until I realized they saw the entire lesson on the waiting room television.

Swimming doesn't hurt.  So for two weeks I've dedicated myself to swimming 4 days each week for only 30 minutes.  I wanted to get out of the pool feeling refreshed, not exhausted, and leave on a good note.  The days where I stay in the water for 60+ minutes, I usually fumble out of the side of the pool almost smacking my chin against the concrete lip.  Part of listening to my body is not exhausting it, but building strength.  It's a balance I've needed for a while.

Instead of doing my strength exercises 3-4 times a week, I complete the routine only twice.  I continue to roll out my IT Bands, hip flexors, and glutes nightly.  For the first time in 4 months, I haven't hurt at all for 48 hours!  I feel good.  I walked my son home from school today and that familiar pull and instability in my groin wasn't there.  Hopefully I'm swimming in the right direction.


~Roadburner