Do I Know You?

Tonight, I had another common uncommon experience. It's an uncommon experience for most, but getting very common for me.

I went to a different indoor swim center than usual because it was the one county facility that was still open by the time I got off from work. One of the big growing pains of this year was learning how to swim laps in Januafy. For some reason, I found this terrifying at first, even though I grew up with a pool in the backyard when I was a kid. I know I will never drown in any body of water unless I hit my head or go hypothermic, but still, swimming like that initially made me nervous.

Part of the concern, at the beginning, was that I was treading the line of triggering my exercise induced asthma regularly. The key for me to avoiding an asthma attack and three days of plague-like coughing is to breathe in a regular pattern, no matter how strenuous the exercise. Breathing irregularly was the enemy, and one that crept up on me with every lap until I got used to it. At first, I could only do 2-4 laps before stopping. Preparing for the triathlon involved working my way up to swimming 20 laps without stopping to regularize my breathing, which I managed just before the event in February (by working 4 laps without a break, then 6, then 8, then 10, then 15, then 20).

Tonight, I was experiencing a different kind of new ... trying to learn how to breathe every other stroke instead of every stroke. I quickly realized that I was moving much faster through the water, using more oxygen, but breathing less often. So, I wound up going back to the method of stopping more frequently to regularize my breathing again. A temporary setback for a greater reward, and quite the workout.

My focus was solely on improving my swimming. I paid little attention to those swimming around me, though I briefly noticed that I was outswimming the man in the lane next to me.

After my 40 laps, I was headed to the hot tub (er, "hydrotherapy pool" to be politically correct) when the guy who had been in the lane next to me said, "My, you are a fast swimmer." As soon as I heard his voice, I knew it. I looked at him and said, "You don't recognize me, do you?" He said, "Do I know you?" To which I responded, "Well, you should. I was your manager. But that was over 100 pounds ago."

He looked confused, so I mentioned work, and he came to a complete stop, then remarked, "Wow! Congratulations!" A 45 minute conversation ensued involving his construction work, what had changed at my work and in my personal life, and then turned to fitness topics. He was at the pool for the first time in several years because he was trying to get into better shape. He kept remarking how "it's no accident that I found you here tonight ..."

He listened to the story of my past 15 months, asked questions about how I got where I am, and started sharing stories of days past--the swim team he was on as a kid, his brother-in-law completing triathlons in his sixties, and how much easier it was for him to walk when he was forty pounds lighter. All of which had resulted in his desire to get in better shape and brought him to the swim center that night.

Before he left, he reflected on my role as a manager and paid me one of the best compliments I have ever received, "You were always fair and consistent. You were respectful and honest. You stood out because of that." We parted as friends after he showed off the dream car he just purchased and his new skateboard.

So, the common part for me is that people I know (and, in some cases, worked with for years) don't always recognize me these days. What's uncommon is that I have that experience at all, let alone regularly. I am always grateful for it because I recognize that getting here has been an act of grace and much hard work. It is also humbling to be a light for others and food for their journey. Rock on!