In January, I signed up for an open water swimming race to be held in April. I knew how to float in the water, I could dive, do assisted scuba diving, but distance swimming is another thing. I’ve tried many times to swim in the sea but I’ve often felt afraid the moment I reach a hundred meters from the shore.
Two weeks before the open water swimming race, I was at a training session with my team. We train together for different disciplines; swim, bike, and run. Since I only learned how to properly swim in January. That week was the first week I’ve started to feel like I could relax in the water. At the end of the session, our coach told us that we would have a race. Just for fun. We were divided into two groups. The idea was we would do a relay. The team that gets all of its members across the pool first, wins. As a prize, the winning team does a shorter last bit of exercise. I didn’t know what happened but I left the pool and decided to watch the games happen beside the bushes, near the sidelines.
In that moment, I suddenly felt myself split into two. There was a part of me that was so excited to play in the water with friends, and then another, that was sure that I was too slow to make my team win, so I took no part in it and watch from the side. I often say that I am not a competitve person, I don’t think much about winning. In that moment, I wanted to participate in life, to be in the pool, but then, I admit that I didn’t want to make my team lose.
It was a good day of swimming, and we all left with high spirits but I spent the rest of the day evaluating the many instances I opt out of life. How often does it happen that I am “split in two”? Negotiating between “the girl in the bush”, and “the girl in the swim lane”. The two versions ask for different things. One asks for safety and happiness for myself and others, and the other, desires to meet life. I went home and spoke to my friends about my great discovery of the girl in the bush, and the girl in the swim lane. I was reminded to listen to the girl in the bush too and be kind. (At this point, I was really on the side of the girl in the swim lane, honestly). But as I write this, (it is already September, I’ve been trying to write this since April but cannot, I almost abandoned it again today) I realise that the two versions, girl in the swim lane, and girl in the bush, have been hearing different things, or rather believe different things about life. Maybe the girl in the bush hears harsher voices thus the fearful outlook in life, while the girl in the swim lane believes in things more optimistically.
It is September now, I finished the 2km open water swim in April. I swam the fastest I’ve ever swam. The first 100meters was the most panicked I’ve felt in the water but I enjoyed that the most I have ever enjoyed swimming. During the race, when all the swimmers entered the water, I felt a panic I was familiar with. During training, the first 300 meters of swimming was always the toughest for me. I would feel that I couldn’t manage my breath, and my limbs would be slow. During the race, I told myself that if we get to the first pontoon, then we could quit the race. For the time being, we would focus on looking at the sunlight peeking on my right eye whenever I would breathe. Yes at this point I would say ‘we’ because I was talking to both the “girl in the bush” version and the “girl in the swim lane” version. When we got to the first flag, my body had been accustomed to the movement and started enjoying seeing life underwater so there was no way back. I finished the swim with an extra 300 meters because I was sightseeing down there and went a bit off course. I was shcoked. I didn’t stop at all, I only paused to sight for the correct direction and to look at the underwater life.
Later I learned that there is a thing called Mammalian Dive Reflex. It’s the body’s way to keep mamals safe when it notices that it has been submerged in water. Water being not the element the body is accustomed to, the heart rate slows down, the blood is moved to the most vital organs away from the limbs, breathing pauses to be able to hold breath underwater. It is ok as a defense mechanism, but can be catastrophic when in a swimming race. In these moments, the body needs to remember that it is safe and it can continue its normal breathing and blood flow.
Perhaps, the girl in the bush is another form of the Mammalian Dive Reflex. A way to stay alive, away from all forms of drowning. To double think participation in life because we are not in our element, at least not yet. In the same way that there is a way to let the Mammalian Reflex disengage, surely there can be a way to let the girl in the bush relax. Maybe the reassurance can come from trusting both life, and our ability to meet it. I haven’t mastered it yet, still learning, but for now, I’ll befriend the girl in the bush, while we focus one step at a time, looking at the sunlight peeking on my right eye whenever I breathe.
VENICE DE CASTRO ATIENZA 