Some Days are Like That, Even in Australia

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite books was Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.  It chronicles a very bad day in young Alexander's life; he wakes up with last night's gum in his hair and everything goes downhill from there.  Alexander's response to this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day is simple, "I think I'll move to Australia." Eventually, though trials and tribulations, Alexander learns that "some days are like that, even in Australia." This book is one of my favorites because I can totally relate, there are just some days that make me want to go back to bed, or to Australia---anywhere it might be better. 

I had such a day at practice on Sunday.  It started off alright, but I knew I had to leave at a certain time so I was a little stressed out.  In the water, things also started alright; we swam north for a mile and while I wasn't at the front of the group, I felt strong and comfortable. On the way back, however, the current started flowing north fast, in the opposite direction of where I was headed. Swimming against a current like that is frustrating and exhausting. After a while it was like swimming on a treadmill, pushing and pushing, pulling and kicking, getting nowhere... and then, I freaked out. 

Maybe it was the fact that I knew I needed to leave by 11. Maybe it was the fact that I had forgotten to eat breakfast. Maybe it was just a terrible, horrible, no good very bad swim. Whatever the cause, I started to cry and then I started to panic. My coach cheered me on and I tried to keep going, but my heart was racing and I couldn't catch my breath and while I knew that this was just a panic attack, a stupid fight or flight response in over-drive, I couldn't make it stop.  Eventually, I had to be towed by the kayak about 2/10ths of a mile back to the cove where I finished my swim. I wanted him to drop me off in Australia. I was embarrassed and ashamed. 

Looking back I realized that as much as that sucked (and trust me, it was Chock Full O' Suck), I wasn't alone. I had a coach who never let me give up on myself. I had a kayaker there to bring me back to safety. I had teammates cheering me on as I came in.  The wonderful thing about the Hudson River Swim for Life Team is that we are never alone, we have one another's backs. 

And we have the backs of those fighting blood cancers.  I may have had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad swim, but it is nothing like what those we swim for face every day. One person in the United States is diagnosed with a blood cancer approximately every four minutes. Terrible, horrible, no good very bad day, doesn't begin to cover it.  We swim to help find treatments and cures to increase the number of healthy, joyful, cancer-free days for those patients and their families. Please join me in having their backs.  If you can, please donate now to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

...and remember, some days are like that, even in Australia. 

*Illustration from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, by Judith Viorst

Countdown: Three Days!

Three Days, Three Penguins.

Lord, I hope I have some Penguin Swag on Saturday! Just look at those guys, cool, confident, ready for anything.  Yesterday, two teammates and I were discussing the fact that while there are some speedy, athletic, graceful swimmers on our team, the three of us are definitely the B Team.  The slower ones, the ones most likely to elicit eye-rolls from our extremely patient coaches, the most likely to forget our goggles, prone to injury, real or imagined, oh yeah, that would be us.  We've decided to call ourselves Group W, which will make sense to Arlo Guthrie* fans.  We're owning our lovable loserness, our outsider cache, our "always picked last" personal narratives, because it's a testament to how far we've come.

On Saturday, it won't really matter how cool we are. What will matter is how far we've come and how well we handle those last three miles of the journey. All of us have come so far. I look around my team at people who have gained skills and speed, sure, but I also see people who have become more confident, stronger and slightly more insane. Together we have raised as a team, 33,771!!!  Personally, I am still $875 away from my goal.  Can you help?

*Link may be NSFW  

Countdown:Five Days!!!

There are just five days left until the Hudson River Swim for Life and the seriousness of what we're doing has settled in. Tonight we had our safety meeting where we were reminded of all of the potential risks and dangers the waters might hold.  We have been training for over three months, but each of us seemed a little shaken.  Three of us at the meeting trained last year for the three mile, only to have the swim cut to a one mile swim with just 24 hours notice.  I think in some ways the three of us, Andy, Sandy and myself, were more nervous than the first timers, because we have spent almost seven months of our lives training and it all comes down to this Saturday.  We have worked so hard and given up so much sleep (and a little dignity begging for funds), if we can't reach the finish line, it will feel like failure.

But it will not be failure.  Together, along with our teammates, we have raised tens of thousands of dollars to fight blood cancer.  Last night, we learned that, a few days ago, our coach lost a former student to Leukemia.  A child who smiled and played and never wanted to be different, a child who never made it to high school, lost her fight.  Everyone on the team is swimming with someone in their minds and hearts.  If the dollars we raise can help comfort a grieving family, make therapies more affordable or support the research that will finally put an end to blood cancer, then no matter what happens on Saturday, we will have succeeded.

There is still time to help.  Donate at http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson12/emilyg

On being a Mermaid

"A Mermaid" By John William Waterhouse

The other day, I  was struggling with motivation. It was the end of a long day, after a long week, smack in the middle of what has been a pretty long year and I just did not have the motivation to get myself in the pool. I was tired and achy and cranky and just wanted to go make love to my couch. I asked my facebook friends for help and my dear friend Roland simply said "mermaids belong in the water."  Half an hour later I was in the pool. 

I'm not going to claim that it was only centuries ago that my people came out of the water, or that I'm the great great great granddaughter of the mermaids from Peter Pan, but I will say I've always been much more comfortable in the water than out.  A chubby kid who was slow and clumsy on land, I was quick and graceful underwater. I prayed to wake up one morning with gills. When the little mermaid opted for a life on land, just for a guy, I thought she was an idiot. Last weekend I was in NJ for a wedding with my parents, sisters, niece and friends who are essentially family.  As we passed my niece around in the water, I remembered how as children, we used to play mermaids for hours, diving through the water chasing one another and pretending to understand the dolphins as they clicked beneath the waves. I may not biologically be half fish, but, in my heart, I'm really a mermaid.

In training for the swim this year, my inner mermaid has finally surfaced and being in the water has become the most natural thing in the world. Yesterday, I swam with the team in the Hudson, a little more than a mile and a quarter and it felt as natural as breathing. What used to be work has become second nature and I'd rather be swimming than almost anything else. This year, I have little doubt that I will make it across the Hudson, but I am worried that I will fall short on everything else. At work, I am single-handedly responsible for a tag sale of which I want no part , my apartment desperately needs cleaning and I have a long way to go to meet my fundraising goals for this swim. This year the real work will be on land---and I'll need all the help I can get.  I hope you will continue to cheer me on, as you have in the past, keeping me focused and, when you are able, donating to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in support of my efforts.  

Thank you.