If you know me at all, I love to find real world examples to explain how and why things work the way they do for us in business, and this week something happened that just completely rocked my world.
I should start by saying that I’m not technically a swimmer. I’ve never competed as a swimmer. Hell, I’ve never even had an official swimming lesson! I only learned how to keep myself above water by being pushed against my will off of the end of a fishing dock when I was about six years old. (I could unpack some childhood trauma here, but we’ll save that for another time).
What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never really considered myself a swimmer, and the only reason I found myself in the water as an adult was because of severe back problems during my second pregnancy. Since then, I’ve learned that swimming is one of the best forms of cardio exercise for my middle-aged, former rugby player body (which is slowly breaking down and in some places, completely falling apart).
My swimming style is weird. I know it’s weird and I’ve learned to accept it. My left shoulder is jacked up. I’m unable to complete a normal freestyle stroke so I breaststroke. It’s also important to me to work the muscles in my lower back and quads to support my deteriorating knees and herniated L5, so I prefer to flutter kick with flippers to increase resistance (and increase speed- weeee!). I typically swim two to three times a week, and in Q1 of 2025 I’ve been focused on one-mile workouts. More on that in a moment.
I’ve been tracking and pushing myself, trying like hell to beat my own time, and more specifically, trying to get my mile time under forty minutes. Over the past six months I’ve been analyzing everything from time of day, what I’ve eaten that day, the music I’m listening to while I’m swimming, if I’d lifted weights prior, my mood, really everything to see if there is a success pattern I might be able to duplicate to improve my time. I eventually figured out that afternoon swims were faster than the ones I completed in the mornings or after the kids were in bed. I also realized I was faster swimming in the cooler lap pool rather than the warmer dive pool at the gym. Swimming hungry was silly, and my best swims were those where I’d had a balanced lunch with healthy carbs about an hour before jumping in the pool. Also- Viking metal music seemed to be the right jams for my noodle while in the water. Once I had the recipe, it was time to start pushing myself for faster times.
My progress was slow, and some days it was just off. I could typically tell by the twentieth lap if I was running for a record breaker, and if I was not, it really was a head game that could either get the best of me or sometimes I would surprise myself and say: “fuck that, watch this,” and proceed to shift into fifth gear. I negotiated with myself. I yelled at myself. I’d hype myself up and I’d scold myself for wanting to quit. My ADHD would kick in often and I’d get really stinking bored way before I’d get really stinking tired. I’d repeat a mantra from Ed Mylett (ONE MORE!) at least ten times a session. I hated it. I loved it. I’d threaten to quit. I’d go and do it again. Every swim, I was just shy of breaking that 40 minute mark. Every swim was bittersweet because I was better but I wasn’t there yet. Every swim I was pleased and disappointed, and every swim I reminded myself that the question wasn’t “if“, it was “when“.
And it happened.
On March 6, 2025, I eased myself into the pool and told myself: “This is it.” I’d done everything right. The stars were in alignment, the timing was great, my mood was awesome, my playlist was ready and I was having a great day. I started my timer and kicked off to Valhalla. Friends, to say I pushed more than usual is a ridiculous understatement. I didn’t just work for it, I fought for it. My arms burned for it, my legs died for it and my lungs bled for it. I crossed that line and beat my very best swim time by 53 seconds and ended my mile with a time of 39:42.
In the parking lot that afternoon I quietly sobbed in my car with the engine idling. I had somehow faced a demon of self-doubt that I hadn’t even known was there. I metaphorically knelt down by a scared little girl, the old me who didn’t know what she was capable of. The one I had stomped on and gagged and shoved in a corner and tried my darndest to forget about. She had tears in her eyes and dust on her cheeks. I lifted her chin. I kissed her forehead. I told her that she was unstoppable and that this was only the beginning. She was ashamed because she didn’t believe me when I told her that today was the day. She thought I’d been lying to her all along. In the car I forgave her for doubting us, and she forgave me for sticking her in a corner when she did.
Maybe there’s something in her world that you can relate to as well?
This is a story of hard work and triumph. Of overcoming obstacles, of perseverance, of working extra hard and of not giving up. And this story isn’t even over, because something truly remarkable happened just one day later.
Since a 40 minute mile was my new reality, I needed to figure out how to do it again. That night I meditated and I journaled. I sent screenshots to my accountability partners and I did something I hadn’t ever done before- I Googled. This was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because I learned a different kick technique that was more effective and wouldn’t totally gas me, and it was a curse because I learned that I’ve been swimming a runner’s mile this whole time (1600M) instead of a Swimmer’s mile, which for some reason is only 1500M! (Oh gosh, I’m kicking myself! I’ll switch to 1500M next quarter, for now I’m going to keep to my original goal),
The next day I didn’t follow my original formula, I just tried my new technique. I went for a dip after the kids were in bed and I didn’t just beat my new record. I somehow crushed it by two whole minutes: 37:42. It didn’t even hurt!
Working harder than ever was an incredibly triumphant yet immensely painful moment for me, however learning how to work smarter was exactly the game changer I’d been missing all along. The only thing I needed to do to make an exceptional difference in my results was a little bit of research and a tiny shift in my movement. Still, that little dusty girl is beaming up at me. She’s strong and she’s proud and she has no more doubts about me doing hard things.
