Swimming Back to Myself
Friday, March 5th, 2010Whenever my husband, Tim, and I reminisce about activities we used to do B.C. (before children), one of the first to come up is swimming. I don’t mean splashing around in the shallow end playing “motorboat, motorboat,” or sitting on the pool deck and clapping during our kids’ swimming lessons (as much as I relish both of those activities). I mean getting in the water and swimming laps hard enough that you elevate your heart rate and get that longed-for endorphin hit, the one that leaves you a much calmer and happier person than when you started.
I grew up around water, in an old stucco house in New Jersey a block from the Atlantic Ocean. Summers, I spent every day fully immersed, riding waves for so many hours that when I finally emerged late in the afternoon, the tips of my fingers were shriveled and my throat was raw from swallowing so much salt.
As an adult in California, I signed up for swimming lessons to improve my stroke. For years, my practice was to swim on Tuesdays and Thursdays before work, a mile each morning to alternate with my other exercise. I’d show up to my office alert and happy, with my hair still wet, smelling of chlorine.
All that went by the wayside soon after Olivia arrived. By the time we adopted Mateo, I doubted whether I could make it from one end of the pool to another, much less finish 72 laps. Like so many things, the ability to swim seemed part of someone I used to be in my former life, that person I no longer knew.
During our recent trip to Guatemala, Olivia and I stayed in a hotel with a pool. We made a deal: if she cooperated with me and followed my agenda without too much complaint (lots of shopping for Guatemalan handicrafts, for example), then at the end of the day, we could spend an hour or two in the pool. Which we did. And somewhere during those sessions, I realized how much I longed to be in water, how much I craved to feel myself moving through it.
So this morning, after I dropped the kids off to school and before I started the rest of my day, I drove to the pool where I used to swim. I’m a lot slower than I used to be, and my stroke, never perfect, is far from smooth. After a few shaky laps, I found my rhythm. My heart rate was elevated and steady; I felt those old endorphins kick in. Now, as I sit at my desk to write this, my fingertips are slightly shriveled, my hair smells like chlorine. This is the person I recognize. This is me, myself.
tagged under: Atlantic Ocean.giving up practice.Guatemala.self definition.swimmingABOUT THIS AUTHOR
Jessica O’Dwyer worked for 20 years in magazine publishing, art museums, and as a high-school English teacher. After she and her husband adopted their daughter from Guatemala, she was so moved by the experience she felt compelled to find a way to share her story. She joined the Writing Mamas in 2004, where she found a supportive community of other mothers with their own stories to tell. Jessica’s essays have been published in the San Francisco Chronicle Magazine, Adoptive Families, and the Marin Independent Journal; aired on KQED-FM; and won awards from the National League of American Pen Women. She has taken workshops with Joyce Maynard, participated in the Squaw Valley Workshop, and is a dedicated student of classes at Book Passage. Her first book, MAMALITA: AN ADOPTION MEMOIR, will be published by Seal Press in November 2010. Visit her at http://www.mamalitathebook.com
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Good for you!
Ok, this just made me tear up, especially the last paragraph. And it also made me want to try to excercise, not a small feat, I assure you.
Thanks, Cathy. It feels great to be back in the pool. Sveta: You also log your miles, watching your son swim. So hard to get that extra energy burst to do for ourselves. But I’m telling you, I am so energized by it. Baby steps.
Wonderful piece, Jessica, and I so relate to it. I’ve always been active but recently took up a sport I’d put aside for a couple of decades–mountain biking– and I’m loving it. Exercise keeps me sane. My family too, actually, since I’m not very pleasant to be around if I miss too many workouts!
hi jessica,
sounds like you came full circle in your quest to remain true to yourself. yes being a mom means looking out for more than your circle, but that what links us together. love your piece.
Dorothy: Exercise also keeps me sane. So crucial yet often the first to go. Glad you’re back on the mountain bike; thrilling to reconnect with our former selves.
Hi Cynthia: Thanks for your kind words. “Full circle” describes it exactly.
So great to take time for ourselves - we can get forgotten with all the Mum-stuff! I used to play tennis every week but now my racket is buried in my cupboard!
Claire, so true. Do yourself a huge favor and dig out that racket!
Welcome back to yourself. A beautifully rendered piece, as usual.
Thanks Lorrie. Worried for a while if I’d recognize myself, but, thankfully, yes. It had been a while….