Lessons Learned. Lessons Shared.

Surprise! An experience from my swimming past helped a young swimmer today.

When I was coaching swim team to novice swimmers, one 9-year-old girl was telling me how how she stops in the middle of swimming because she can't catch her breath. Not knowing exactly what is going on with her at first, I ask if it's because she has a cold. She says, "No. I just get nervous."

Fast forward to the evening when she had a group lesson while I was coaching the advanced swim team. I saw her dad sitting nearby and mentioned what happened earlier in the day and I said I realized I never got back to talking with her about it. "If you'd like," I said. "I'd be happy to talk with her and give her a bit of encouragement."

I shared with the dad how, when I was swimming on swim team in high school (by that point I had been swimming competitively for 10 years), I had a panic attack. I thought sharks or creatures were going to come up from the drain. I couldn't breathe (it seemed). I felt like I was going to fail. I said to the dad, "I'll be sure to soften my story to fit a 9-year-old." He laughed and agreed.

After the girl's swim lesson, I talked with her. I started by saying, "Remember this morning when you told me you felt like you couldn't breathe and it was nerves?" She nodded.

Me: "Well...sometimes our brains tell us we can't do something. We just have to practice telling our brains what we can do." I proceeded to ask her what else she can do. (i.e. gymnastics, etc.) She tells me she has friends. She has gone rock climbing. She can ride a mini/kid's motorcycle and can ride a bike.

So I tell her, "Any time that beautiful brain of yours starts to tell you that you can't do something, you remind it what a good friend you are to your friends, how you can rock climb, and how you can ride a motorcycle and a bike." As I am telling her these things she is listening so intently. It was beautiful to see the smile on her face grow bigger and bigger. I then ask her, "Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes. Thank you," She says.

Her dad looks at me, smiles, and mouths the words, "Thank you."