Without knowing how I would accomplish it, I agreed on the bet. The loser had to buy the other a cheap plane ticket to anywhere, within a reasonable amount. Now, I had no option but to win because I was too broke and so I began my research. [break]
It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to learn. I had. After high school, I even took a class but quit after I nearly drowned. In college, a few friends tried to teach me how to swim. To their credit, they tried really hard, but my inability to push the limits of my trust in water couldn’t be overcome in the hour before lunch when the hungry stomach begins to dictate the cranky mind. I did learn to float further, though, and even lie on my back in liquid for a while. But this skill was not going to win me the bet. I knew what didn’t work for me – classes, and friends -- all trying to teach me with very good intentions. So, I headed to the library like I’d done so many times before to find answers to questions I came across, most of them academic. But this wasn’t an academic question, this was something that required physical skill. I went anyway, not knowing what I was looking for, that is until I found Terry Laughlin’s book Total Immersion.
Total Immersion isn’t really meant for beginners, but it was the only book on swimming that seemed to explain questions I had that my swimming instructors and friends hadn’t been able to give me satisfactory answers to. This book was about the basics for building efficiency in water. It explained the relationship between the human body and the water, the nature of its conflict or harmony, and how this knowledge could help you swim faster and with less friction.
Swim faster? That wasn’t my goal just yet. My goal was to swim. To finish one lap. And then another. But mostly, to not drown. I browsed through other books on the shelf, but none seemed as clear as Laughlin’s. I picked up another book, my oft-checked out Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching from another shelf and headed to the desk.
At the checkout desk, the librarian lady gave me the DVD that was included in the back cover flap of Total Immersion. Even better I thought. It wasn’t going to be just about reading, but also watching, which is always more effective when trying to learn something. That is, until a friend asked to borrow the DVD, and didn’t return it for a really long time. But I still had the book, and I read it at home, and went to the pool armed with it, every day.
People at the pool give you funny looks if you are standing in water on one end, flipping through pages. Books aren’t water-friendly, but I didn’t want to lose the bet just because I was too embarrassed to try. I, at least, wanted to be a good enough competitor. So I practiced the drills in Laughlin’s book, experimenting for myself, and learning to be aware of how my body behaved in water. I stayed in the shallow end, as close as possible to the lifeguard, in case I had to shout for help. It was a slow progress in the beginning, and once I ventured beyond the shallow end and nearly drowned because I panicked. The lifeguard crouched over and gave me a hand. “You’re doing better, just don’t panic,” she said. That day, I went home and read Tao Te Ching.
Perhaps it was the Tao talk, but I began to let go more in water. To not fight it, but to become the water. To let my body’s weight dictate how it suspended in liquid, and when my arms would fall. The pages of my Laughlin book were already appearing rather spotted in places with my dripping fingers. But I was swimming. I did not fear the water, but rejoiced it in it. In two weeks, I was swimming laps without stopping. In three, the lifeguards had to throw me out of the pool at closing time. I was always the first to come and the last to leave. My strokes had become smoother and when I left the water, I felt more energized than before I entered it. I had stopped taking Laughlin’s book to the pool but I read it at home. A day before the book was due back, I managed to reclaim the DVD my friend had borrowed, but I hadn’t had a chance to watch it. I made a copy, but never watched it, because I could swim for three hours straight without stopping or getting tired. I could swim 60 laps in an hour. It was only a matter of time now before I could improve my timing. My betting friend and I did compete, and we came out equals, both swimming 100 laps in under an hour. We laughed and let the talk of ticket slide by because the bet didn’t matter anymore. Swimming had become more than its own reward.
Related story
Search continues for missing individual during idol immersion i...
