Victory Lap

I wrote my last blog (Big, Fat, Failure) during a raging pity party. It was Thursday afternoon prior to our next swim practice. To say I didn’t want to go to practice is an understatement. I dreaded it…so much so that I made myself late. Dread has a way of doing that.

This practice was to be at Little Muskego Lake. Another open water swim and another opportunity to totally humiliate myself. The 45-minute drive to practice gave me ample time to stew over my skill deficits. The prep email asked us not to arrive too early … something about limited parking. I remembered the warning but didn’t fully grasp the concern. Regardless, nothing would have prepared me for this awe-inspiring experience.

Lake communities are tiny and dense. Houses are positioned anywhere they can be plumbed for septic and electricity. Roads are narrow and land is at a premium…thus, yards are small. People tolerate all of this for access to a liquid playground. I drove all the way around this neighborhood until I was greeted by a 16-year-old boy coming out the other side. He immediately invited me to park on a patch of grass…that happened to be attached to a home. Unless you’re in Green Bay for a Packer game, Wisconsinites frown upon grass parking. Even then, we would need to make a $100 ‘donation’ to Lambeau Field residents for grass repair. Why? well…because their property borders the Holy Land and because grass cutting and yard maintenance are cultural pastimes in Wisconsin. As I pondered this option, a woman on the other side of my car offered to move her garbage cans so I could park in her driveway. Wait…What? I finally said to them both, “Thanks but I think I’m a bit lost. I’m actually looking for a group event.” They shook their head with complete understanding and said, ‘We know.’ Wait…What? There was no trace of Team Phoenix…not a single purple team shirt to be seen. There are 100+ of us at any given swim practice. We are a tough group to hide (and to keep quiet). I was late, this group starts on time, thus they must be in the water already. By the way…where IS the water? The young man told me to walk down 2 houses and turn right into the yard. There was no street or sidewalk; just luscious grass trailing down a steep hill. I was literally about to ‘cut’ between two houses. Not since middle school did I feel so devious. It was like heading to a backyard party with no casserole to pass. Another midwestern no-no. I now felt awkward. As I walked down the hill of the host’s side yard, I eventually saw the team, our coaches, and my nemesis just beyond them…Little Muskego Lake.

Practice had started. Did I mention I was late? Coach Kim was finishing the evening’s announcements and my teammates were sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on their mats facing her. I set down my gym bag, unrolled my yoga mat and tried to focus more on Coach than on the water that awaits. Her last announcement was about Swim Angel pairings. Athletes can ask for a Swim Angel (expert swimmer) any time they need a little extra instruction or support during practice. Coach asked if she missed any Swim Angel requests. I sheepishly raised my hand based on the conversation Coach and I had after my 1st panic attack. I write ‘1st’ because I assume there will be more. She thought a Swim Angel would be good for me. Swim Angel…Hell’s Angel…I think the heavens should just open up and send down everyone they’ve got up there. I’ll need them all to get me through this Triathlon. Well, I was in luck because Coach Kim didn’t assign me one Angel. Nope, she assigned me TWO. Now, I’m not familiar with the Swim Angel handbook, but I think this is quite rare. So, folks, there you have it. I am such a handful… I need TWO Swim Angels!

Coach then went on to prepare us for the swim. She walked us through visualization exercises and a breathing meditation. She then brought out the big guns, Lenny, a professional triathlete, to give us a pep talk. This, to me, was a bit like bringing in a Mom of 5 to speak to a Lamaze class. We’d be in total awe, of course, but if she could see her toes that day… she was at the wrong party. [Lenny really was awesome though!]

Dr. Leslie gathered us at the beach for one of her now famous inspirational kickoffs. During it, she thanked the Little Muskego Lake community for being our hosts. I missed the kickoff of the practice, so I assumed I also missed the story behind how we came to be practicing there. This was clearly a private lake for residents only. As I took in Doc’s words, I looked up from the water I’d been so preoccupied with, to appreciate the fact that there were 20-25 people on paddle boards and jet skis, in row boats and kayaks, and slowly maneuvering speed boats right in front of us. There were men, women, kids, and families all scattered about the water. These are folks I had not seen at practice before and they did not seem to be out there for their own sport. Their attention was clearly on us.

I found out later, that a Team Phoenix alum, Sara, lives on that lake. A few years ago, she asked a friend and neighbor to host a TP swim practice in her backyard…one that could accommodate our team’s size. They then recruited the other homeowners around the lake to volunteer their time and spirit for our benefit. Now I understand the gracious offer to help me park my car. Sara and her neighbors have embraced us, this mission, and the responsibility of hosting 60 cancer-survivor-turned-aspiring-triathletes every year ever since. I’m familiar with people coming together during illness…but these folks had gathered for our wellness. Just… WOW.

Then the specialness of this evening really hit me. Before our eyes, these strangers maneuvered themselves into a circle outlining our swim path and were planning to stay at their assigned station until every, single one of us completed this swim safely. They were strategically placed between the large red buoys to make the lake seem smaller, to guide our path, and to keep us out of harm’s way. Our very own human lanterns. My breath hitched in my throat and I could barely contain the tears.

Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… now my goggles are fogged up!

Coach wanted us in the water ready to porpoise dive. All of those prep activities helped some, but I was still nervous. My head wasn’t in the game. I went between the water and my gym bag three times because I’d forgotten critical items…goggles, nose plug…hutzpah.

Sue and Susan were assigned to me. They are both loving, compassionate, cancer-conquering, mermaid-types …which is the resume of a Swim Angel. We’d never worked together before, so they were quickly trying to size up this challenge. I explained that I mostly swim the backstroke and therefore don’t sight very well. I asked if they could help ensure that I stay on course. They didn’t seem intimidated in the least and I pitied them for their naiveté. Had they not heard what I did to Coach Kim near Buoy #2??? The Mermaids were strategizing, and the Bass was offering last rites to other Bass. I heard a couple of teammates say that we would need to circle the course twice to complete the 400-meter length. Oh boy, that looked far. Like an esthetician about to do a Brazilian…I’m thinking this is going to be a lot of work. Augh.

A whistle was blown and Mermaids and Bass alike went for it. I was the last person in the water… behind those less skilled, but much braver than me for sure. Someone shouted out “Let’s go!” with such a fervor that I freestyled forward like a petulant horse motivated to giddyap by a slap to her ass. I’d find out later that I launched into the lake so fast, that I left both of my Angels in my greenish-yellowish wake. Coach shouted at one of the Sues “I see Kimberly there…catch up to her!” I’m oblivious to all of this. I hear and see nothing. That said, this was now the longest freestyle swimming I had done. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I would take advantage of my sunny-side up position and try to figure out where I was. When my ears reached sea level, I heard a Captain Jack-type yell “You’re going to break my boat!” I tried to focus my eyes in the direction of the yeller. It’s then that I see him… Jude Law… at the bow of a 59-foot yacht with his hand extended…savior style. [yummy] Ok …that was only a mirage. I’m told this is a common occurrence in the 7th minute of the swim leg. I quickly realized that this was actually a lovely man trying to humorously warn me that I was about to crash starboard. Where are those Angels…Hell’s or otherwise? And then ‘poof’, Sue appeared. She got me reoriented and back on track for buoy #1. Capsized yacht with beautiful captain, successfully averted. Whew!

I found my rhythm, threatened 2 more watercrafts with my wayward ways, and was headed toward buoy #3 with a vengeance. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast. My new mantra. Sue then yelled… “you’re almost there…you’ve got this…head for the dock…head for the dock!” I felt good…really good. I actually thought I could make it to the dock without an airdropped oxygen tank. I had done much of my swimming via the backstroke with quite a bit of freestyle as well (a safer, preferred choice.) I finally touched the edge of the dock…a platform now filled with all my favorite people. Coaches Kim and Kristen were there. Doc Leslie was there. I think I saw Ilka. This was my Dorothy-returning-from-Oz dream sequence. They were yelling for me to keep swimming to the left.

Then it hit me. I still needed to go around one more time. I wanted to celebrate but knew I couldn’t do more than smirk at that point. I didn’t have time and I didn’t yet earn my celebration. But just a few yards over, there was clearly a celebration going on…those damn Mermaids. Like a Real Housewife without a fashion line, I was so jealous! There were about 20 of them holding swim noodles in an arch to form a tunnel for the other Mermaids coming out of the water and into victory. How is that possible? How could so many people have gone around that lake twice when I swam with all my might just to complete one lap? I was baffled and was left trying to figure out how to begin the 2nd go around. Just then a teammate invited me through the victory tunnel. Then another grabbed my hand to guide me. Waterlogged and dazed, I think I barked something like “Are you kidding me?” Did that noodle line serve two purposes… the reentry point for slowpokes like me and the victory march for the Mermaids? That ain’t right. I struggled through and assumed I’d get guidance for reentry from a Sue on the other side. Strange though…as I continued to trudge through the tunnel of floaties I kept hearing “You did it, Kim!” “Oh my goodness…can you believe it??” “I’m so proud of you!” It’s then that I realized the unfathomable. I just swam 400 meters, not 200. One loop of that course was the full 400-meter distance. I did it. I actually did it. I was instantly overcome with emotion …relief, exhaustion, accomplishment, and joy… pure joy. I nearly popped a gill.

Coach Kristin (think Kristin Bell with a visor and bullhorn) came up to congratulate me on my swim and I started to cry. Yup, I broke into that ugly cry that Oprah is known for…I looked to the sky and fanned my eyes furiously with my hands. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to help…but I’m wise enough to copy everything Oprah does. I joined the victory tunnel and clapped and cheered with my teammates until every last woman came through that crazy tunnel of noodles. By now we had 125 people bawling, hugging, and cheering…including our new lake friends. Gathered at the shore and on the dock was a community of winners – those who taught, those who helped, and those who did the unimaginable.

I packed up my gear and said my goodbyes quietly. When I got myself situated in my car… I wept. This went beyond the ugly cry. I cried like all those people who found out about the gift tax on the cars that aforementioned Oprah gave them.

All I could think about were my kids.

When a person hears that they have cancer, it doesn’t matter how much, what stage, or its exact location. Within 3 minutes of hearing the news, they imagine the universe without them in it. Their next thought is about the potential heartbreak their absence might cause loved ones. For me, my fears were for my kids. My husband has had enough life experience to know that, although it might be hard (it better be hard), he’d figure out a life without me. I wasn’t so sure about my three teen kids.

This blog is a love letter to them and a hope that they will learn about the power of the human spirit through this incredible journey. Read on if you want … but the rest is for my kiddos.

Katie, you have a ginormous right brain! You can paint, draw, sing, act, photograph, and create better than anyone I’ve met yet. And your heart….your heart is 5 million times the size of Little Muskego Lake. Uncross your arms, unfurl your fists, and put yourself out there. Anything worth having will take vulnerability, commitment, and sacrifice. I will be right there to catch you if your ‘try’ doesn’t work out. Do what Coach Kim has told me to do…inhale anxiety and exhale courage. I might qualify to be a Swim Angel someday and I will volunteer to be yours. Until that time, my role as Mom will need to suffice.

Alyssa, my adventurer. Your thirst for life astounds me. I wish I’d been more like that at your age. You are living yourself to death and we could all learn a lesson from that. It’s why people are drawn to you. In your quest to try everything and be the best at it, remember to be gentle and kind to yourself. Nowhere on that crazy summer bucket list you created did I see ‘just be’. Forgive often, laugh uncontrollably, and quit taking your sister’s shorts.

Sammy, I’m not sure when you decided to become a young man…but against every bone in my body, you went and did it. At age 14, you are an incredible athlete. Something I first tried at age 52. Hockey is your thing. Every team has benefited from your talent… every coach has commented on it. They’ve also acknowledged that you are becoming a man of character…just like your Dad. I’m convinced it’s how you’ve received the honor of being Captain several times already. The stakes will be higher as you enter high school. Realize that coaches are coaches because they simply know more and, thus, they probably know better. The really good ones will share what they know as they study your talent...and make you better. You might not always agree, but you will need to concede (Google that word, Baby), listen to their critique, and do what they suggest. Leading can be exhausting. Agree to follow, just for a while my sweet Boy, until it’s your turn to lead once again.

Now, I know each of you is conducting a word count and punctuation analysis on my messages with the hopes of finally settling the 14-year-old debate on who I love more and which one of you is my favorite. Know that you are all my favorite and that I would swim through a greenish-yellowish lake with floatie things (without a swim cap if I must) to get to you. More importantly, I hope seeing me on this journey has taught you that you can do anything and overcome everything when surrounded by love. That, my Hearts, is the lesson I wish I would have learned in my teens.

xoxoxo,

Mom