When "Just Keep Swimming" isn't Enough

It was a rest day . . . or it was supposed to be a rest day . . . but my 11 year old son wanted to swim and I agreed to go to the pool for a fun swim together.

We had a good time.  He loves to coach me; so after we warmed up, Denver began telling me how to do butterfly.  He talked and demonstrated.  I tried.  He told me everything I was doing wrong.  I tried again.  Repeat.  Repeat.  At one point, he said, "Your upper body is too stiff.  You look like this."  He then proceeded to thrash in the water as if his upper body and lower body were trying to drown each other!

Enough of that, I thought.  I'll do something I know how to do.  Freestyle.  I've been studying and practicing and reading and watching videos for three years.  As I swam, Denver decided to record me so he could offer advice.  When I saw the recording, I became sick to my stomach.  This is me?!

I was reminded of the old adage that "practice makes perfect" only if your practice is perfect.  I have been practicing swimming poorly, with my arms sweeping out to the side, my stroke not fully extended, my hips flat.  Sigh...

It's funny how easy it is to watch others swimming and to learn from watching them without forming any kind of judgment about them as people.  When I watch myself, however, I am so frustrated that I almost don't want to get back in the pool.  

I am humbled by the embarrassment of being a newbie once again.  It reminds me of how my children must feel as they try new things and receive unsolicited feedback from well intentioned adults. 

Kindness matters.  Patience matters.  As my yoga teacher offered at the end of every class, "Nothing takes the place of gentle, loving persistence."  And . . . back to the pool I go.  Humbled, but determined.  

I have a sink full of dirty dishes and a couch hiding beneath a mountain of unfolded laundry. Happy International Women's Day!

A Joyful Christmas breakfast with Poinsettia dishes.
John did the cooking.  I did the cleaning; and then
I went for a ten mile run.

Okay.  Let me first say that I'm very lucky to have a plentiful supply of dishes.  And when I think about "doing the dishes or laundry," I don't actually mean without a dish or clothes washer!  So, let me just admit that by every measurable standard, my life is awesome and wonderful and I love it.  My husband is incredible.  My kids are fantastic.  I have a great job.  But even with this life, from time to time, questions arise.  Sometimes, but not always, they arise while I'm on a six hour bike ride with my cycling club on a sunny Saturday afternoon while my kids are home . . . playing video games.  

A frequent post in my women's triathlon Facebook group is this:
"My (insert husband/partner/mother/father) says my passion for triathlon is selfish and it's taking too much time away from family obligations.  I love running, biking, swimming, and competing in races.  Am I being too selfish?"

Ten hours into my first Ironman.

I have looked for such questions in male dominated triathlon groups, and have never found them.  When something similar is asked by men, it is usually related to career obligations, and there is no angst in the questioner's voice.  It is simply a matter of logistics, not guilt.  

The same questions arise with regard to mothers working long hours in careers they love.  How do they do it, people ask, with a family?  No one ever asks that of men.

And the truth is that a mother's place is still in the home, even when she's not there.  It's okay for her to do other things, even fantastic things-- going to law school, becoming a judge, competing in Ironman triathlons-- as long as these activities do not get in the way of all of her family obligations.

I don't know what to say or do about any of this.  I'm not even sure how I feel about it.  By the time John and I had our first child, I drank the Kool-Aid.  I wanted to be the Best mom, wife, housekeeper, attorney in the world.  My mom set the standard for how much a mother could accomplish.  She rose at 5am and worked as Postmaster of a small post office all day, returning home in time to feed us dinner, attend our after school events, clean around the house, do laundry, and remember all of our dental and doctor appointments.  

But I couldn't.  Not really.  Not and have a moment to relax and enjoy the life I was creating.  Now that the kids are old enough to cook themselves breakfast and one of them can drive, I no longer feel the pull of society's expectations.  Instead, I feel the drive to go outside and chase dreams.  Usually, on a bicycle.  The dishes can wait.  And your clean clothes are on the couch.  You'll have to dig around a bit, but they're there.  Call me if you need me.  I'll be riding, or trail running, or swimming.  I'll call you right back.