To breathe or not to breathe

I love the water! Just anticipating diving in causes my breathing to change. I grew up near the water, on the water and I’ve spent so much time in the water. In high school, I worked at the local pool life-guarding and teaching swimming. I spent almost eight years of my life working out in the pool year-round in the early mornings and late afternoons. 

Enjoying an invitation from my brother to cheer on his daughter who is a college swimmer,  I found myself back at the pool this weekend. It represented a double win. An opportunity to spend time with my brother and a chance to relive USNA and childhood swimming days. 

It only took one step into the stands to get a whiff of chlorine, feel the hot, humid-hanging pool air and remember the rhythmic feeling of arms stroking, feet kicking, and head-turning to catch a gulp of air. Watching it all move together is quite poetic and grueling at the same time. 

Swimming taught me the necessity of breathing. I was always proud of my lung capacity gained from so many years of swimming. One of the pool games we’d play is to see how far you could make it underwater holding your breath. For a competitive swimmer, In the 25-yard pool, one length wasn’t that hard. Two lengths was a significant challenge and trying to get a third length in? I can still recall the screaming burn in my lungs as my legs and arms pushed off the wall and attempted to go beyond my last mark. 

You don’t have to be a swimmer to think of the times you have had to hold your breath. 

I’ve held my breath when:

Seeing my babies take their first unaided step. 

Letting a 4year old climb the big kid playground slide alone.

Waiting for a new driver to return after taking off on their first solo run. 

Sitting in emergency rooms with a parent or a child waiting for news.

Looking at a phone waiting for results from a lab.

Waiting for the doctor to find a heartbeat during an ultrasound. 

Hearing a teenager say something crazy and try to figure out if it’s a test or if they mean it. 

You know you can only hold your breath for a sprint. World-class swimmers only don’t take a breath in the shortest races. For anything longer than a sprint, you have to breathe. While we do breathe without thinking, often it takes a screaming demand from life to remind us that we actually weren’t breathing. It’s like my attempt at the third underwater length, if we don’t pop up for air we’ll likely pass out and need someone jumping in to pull us out. 

If you want to go a distance you have to breathe. And if where you’re going requires any effort your breathing requires great intention.  

I have had to intentionally breathe through: 

Labor pains as each contraction wave required more and more controlled and focused breathing. 

Pushing myself to any greater effort either physically or mentally.

A sudden awakening in the middle of the night when my mind floods with every possible crisis.

Hearing someone I love say, I don’t believe that anymore. 

Stilling my mind, body, and emotions so I could listen to God. 

Take a big deep breath right now and consider what causes you to hold your breath or requires you to focus on your breathing?