MEET THE AUTHOR OF OFFSHORE

Embracing Deep End Adventures: The Life and Faith of an Endurance Athlete with CP

Thank you for visiting OFFSHORE. I hope that you are well, even thriving, despite these unusual and challenging circumstances. If you are thriving on shore, I am so glad you are here; this is a space for you. If you feel more like you're floating, unmoored in the middle of a vast body of water, unsure of the way forward or back, I am so glad you are here; this is a space for you. If you're busy treading water, embracing your offshore adventure, I am so glad you are here; this is a space for you.

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My name is Jenna Lambert, and I am so thankful that you have taken the time to check out my site. 

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OFFSHORE began as a project of passion - I love to write, and I haven't been writing nearly as often as I would like. My grandfather always wanted me to record my 'deep end adventures' - this is a step in that direction. 

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Have you ever been told, ‘that’s impossible! There’s no way you’ll ever be able to do that.!', whatever that is? I have. Many, many times over. And each time I’ve been told, or it’s been implied that something is ‘impossible’ for me to do, I’ve had to lean in to trust – knowing that God is bigger than all of the impossibilities of this world, face my fear (of failure, shortcoming, proving the naysayers right) with courage, and determinedly hold onto the truth (see Psalm 139). 

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Franklin Roosevelt said, “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.”

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Bruce Lee iterated this same quote in a slightly different way, and his word choice seemed important to me; “Courage is not the absence of fear, rather, the ability to act in the presence of that fear”.

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When I’ve faced set-backs or inevitable stumbles, I’ve had to re-group, and persevere, not on my own strength, but believing that God is good and that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him. And most importantly, that He doesn’t make mistakes. 

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I was born with Cerebral Palsy (or CP), a disability which affects mostly my legs and limits my ability to move about independently. I’ve always believed (read: trusted, understood) that God blessed me with a physical difference so that I would be privy to a unique perspective, and would be able to reach those in my sphere of influence as a result. 

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As a human with CP, the water is heavenly – it offers a place for me to develop strength, independence, balance. A place where I can be ‘free’. 

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Growing up, my parents took me to a lake near our home to practice walking. I went to therapy: hydrotherapy, hippotherapy, physical therapy. I wore leg braces and had surgeries, and faced many mobility challenges, but the water offered a space where I could simply be, “me”. 

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When I was eight years old, our family was introduced to marathon swimmer Vicki Keith and her husband John Munro. Recognizing the benefits of the water (especially for children and adults with disabilities) Vicki’s mission was to create a swim program for children with physical disabilities and their able-bodied siblings.

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Given our love of the water, my sister and I were the perfect fit. We were two of seven inaugural members of the Kingston Y Penguins Aquatic Club, and began training to swim competitively. 

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Two years into my competitive swimming career, at 11 years of age, I qualified for my first National championships. As a para-athlete, I began competing on the National stage, and my two-a-week practices progressively grew to two-a-day practices. 

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Around the same time, Vicki held a training camp in Cocoa Beach Florida, during the March break. At the end of the week, Vicki challenged us to a long-distance event: two hours in the water, without stopping. I completed the two hour challenge, and I honestly felt as though I could have continued to swim forever. 

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That feeling stayed with me as I continued to compete – I loved the sport but hated the competition. I wanted to experience the freedom of the water, the challenge of competition, without the pressure of the race. 

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When I was 14, I watched Vicki (a world renowned marathon swimmer) swim across Lake Ontario in a massive philanthropic effort to raise funds and awareness for our swim team.

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Watching Vicki, I knew I wanted to use my gifts and passion for long-distance swimming to benefit our community. After It wasn't too long after Vicki climbed from the wave-tossed waters of Lake Ontario that my own plans began for the Kid for Kids Marathon. 

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On July 18th and 19th 2006, after a gruelling 32 hours and 18 minutes, and despite many well-meaning naysayers, I became the first woman with a physical disability to successfully complete a crossing of Lake Ontario. I swam nearly 40 kilometers from Baird-point New York to Lake Ontario Park in Kingston, using only my upper body.  

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I can recall a few moments when it seemed I had reached the end of my own strength, and it would be ‘impossible’ for me to go on. During those periods, God used the persistent and encouraging voices of my crewmates, my coach and passerby boaters to lift my spirits and propel me forward. 

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Over and over again, as I was pounded by winds and powerful waves, He heard my prayer and gave me the strength to take one more stroke. One more stroke. He blessed me with a beautiful sunset, and the warmth of a glorious sunrise that I know He painted especially for me. 

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It takes a village to raise a child (this was certainly true in my case – I have an incredible village!); it turns out that it also takes a village to complete a marathon swim. My crew, the city of Kingston and beyond were vital to my success. 

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About 8 hours before the end of the swim, we rounded the corner of Simcoe Island. I had reached the end of my human steam. From my vantage-point in the water, all I could see was the hopelessness of endless blue/black fog.  Everything looked the same. I was isolated. Alone. Cold. Angry. I was supposed to be finished by now. Vicki had predicted that the whole venture would take a total of 24 hours, and I knew in my tired, achy bones it had been several hours longer than that – with no land in sight. 

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I couldn’t do this anymore. I was longing for shore. Every time I stuck my head in the water, I cried tears of pain and frustration. My tears mingled with lake water and drove the point home: I was alone. This was miserable. I couldn’t do it anymore. 

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Just then, my coach called my name. “Jenna,” She said, “Do you want to swim over there and touch Simcoe Island?” 

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This, in marathon-swimming-speak, meant, “are you done? Do you want to give up? Everyone will understand. You’ve made a good effort. Do you want to touch land and put an end to all this madness?” 

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I thought about that for a moment. I thought about the Kingston Y Penguins. Everyone who had sponsored the swim. My parents. The news anchor who’d told me on live television the night before that he thought I was crazy for even attempting a swim of this distance. I thought of all the ways this should be impossible, and I prayed that it wouldn’t be.

I stuck my head back in the water, and propelled myself forward. 

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At my most hopeless, Vicki hopped in the water to swim with me. She couldn’t touch me (that would be against marathon-swimming rules), but she could swim beside me and offer her supportive presence. I smiled as she climbed in and began to swim without using her legs, so that we were swimming side by side. My motivation spiked; she propelled me onward.

There, in the middle of Lake Ontario, after more than 24 hours in the water, I swam the fastest two kilometers of the entire 'Kid for Kids' marathon. 

Vicki got out of the water after about 4 hours, and I continued to make my way toward the shore. A massive, lime-green crowd had begun to gather at Lake Ontario Park. I could hear them, but they were still impossible to see. 

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Between me and my goal now stood a massive 400 meter rock wall. Literally. You can still see it today if you visit Lake Ontario Park. This was the end of my journey – I knew I was close. But first I was going to have to make it around this massive, nasty, never-ending wall.

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Have you ever faced moments like that in your life? You know that what you’ve been waiting for, hoping for, is practically within your grasp, but first there’s this seemingly insurmountable obstacle in your way? 

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Enter the never-ending-rock-wall. It took me over an hour to swim what would normally have taken about 8 or 9 minutes. My sister was screaming ‘GO bananas’ from the kayak beside me, and the crowd was getting louder. Finally, I rounded the wall and glimpsed the sea of lime green t-shirts lining the shore waiting to welcome me home.  

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After 32 hours and 18 minutes, I finally made it to shore. I finished the swim using the butterfly stroke (considered the most difficult of the four strokes) just to prove to myself that I did have something left. 

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God is so good. As a result of our marathon efforts, I have had the opportunity to speak to countless audiences, across a variety of platforms. The 'Kid for Kids' Marathon raised over 250,000 dollars toward the construction of a new, accessible pool (now more than ten years old!) at the Kingston Family YMCA. 

By the grace of God, and through determination, committedness, perseverance, teamwork, trust and no small amount of courage, I had successfully defied the ‘impossible’. 

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Despite an affinity for big, hairy, audacious goals, I’m not an un-anxious person. Putting myself ‘out there’ doesn’t always come naturally for me. I think way too much about the thoughts, opinions and perceptions of others, but, God has continued to teach me about my worth.

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I hope that this becomes a space that reiterates and reinforces your worth, that it strengthens your sense of self-efficacy (you have what it takes!), inspires you to embrace deep end adventures, and reminds you that whether you are on the shore or in the sea, you are beautiful, valued & eternally loved. 

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A few years after I completed the marathon, I was competing on the international stage for Team Canada. I was predicted to make the Paralympic team. 

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I didn’t. I swam terribly (or what I thought was terribly) and missed the Paralympic standard by a good margin. This was a disappointing experience to say the least (I don’t do well with perceived (or actual) ‘failure’), but over time, I began to see this as an opportunity to get back into the types of athleticism I love best; extreme endurance sports. Feats that push me to the breaking point, and require a good measure of trust in strength that is far beyond my own. 

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Around the same time, I became an aquatic safety instructor and had to advocate for my place as an employee, with employers who didn’t believe I was capable of teaching swimming lessons. I found an employer was willing to take a chance on me, and I taught parent-tot classes, coached swimmers with visible and invisible disabilities, and provided private swimming lessons for 7 years after I was certified.  

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In 2009, I completed a 270 km solo-triathlon (more than double the distance of an ironman) from Belleville to down-town Ottawa. I swam a distance of 35 kilometres, hand-cycled 230 kilometers, and finished with a 10 km wheel in a manual wheelchair. The effort was gruelling, and took nearly 50 hours to complete. 

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 Later that year, I placed 8th in the World Para-swimming Championships in Rio de Janeiro Brazil.

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In March 2010, I competed in the Can Am Swim Championships in Guadalajara Mexico.  

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I began studying at Carleton University in 2012, and it quickly became evident that Ottawa is where God wants me to be. I studied communications and media studies, with minors in psychology and philosophy, and more than swimming or my studies, I became immersed in a wonderfully supportive community. 

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I loved communications, but by the end of my degree, I knew I was more suited for social work. I have always desired to work directly with people, to sit with them in the muck and the mire, and to walk with them in a posture of ally-ship as they pursue healing and growth. 

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In preparation for my Masters, I volunteered on a crisis line. I was confronted, in this role, by the brokenness, aloneness, and tragedy in my community.

Working with broken, beautiful people like me, I also experienced breathtaking glimpses of hope, and opportunities for redemption and grace to take root, where at first there seemed only to be hopelessness. 

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It turns out that obtaining a Masters degree in social work would present its own kind of intrapersonal and spiritual challenges, as I was constantly confronted with situations that caused me to examine what I believed, and how to reconcile that with the world around me.

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The world is a broken and beautiful place. I had to learn that it is possible to be broken and beautiful at the same time, that it is OK to embrace uncertainty, and that facing adversity is a surefire way to grow. 

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It was through the social work program, and various work opportunities that resulted from it, that I learned perhaps the most important lesson I’ve learned to date:

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I do not have to agree with someone in order to love and support them. I do not have to share the perspective of my brother sister, neighbour, friend or enemy, to respect and honour them as they are, and to support them in their pursuit of healing. 

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In the second year of my masters, I got a call asking me to take on a leadership role in a special project at a major university, supporting students with disabilities who are looking for work. The project, the caller said, would be the first of its kind and they wanted me to start in two weeks, full time. 

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With a fair bit of angst and trepidation, I dove in and embraced the deep end. As with everything in my life, God has blessed me beyond measure. He has taken my efforts, and surpassed my expectations beyond what I could think possible. 

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I began a full-time contract at the university. I’ve been there now, in the same capacity, for over two years, and in those two years we have seen our program fill a much needed gap for students with disabilities in postsecondary, and provide vital hands-on employment experience while they complete their degree.  

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I’ve also just completed the first year of my second Master’s program, this one combining counselling and spirituality. Gratefully, I am able to study part-time. I am excited to be able to expand my education in this way (coupling social work with counselling and the vital aspect of spiritual growth) while continuing to work full-time. 

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I live on my own in the beautiful city of Ottawa, ON. I still swim every day - in the lake as often as I can. I have family who faithfully remind me of God’s goodness and provision in my life, a wonderful boyfriend, and a strong, supportive community. I love my job, and I can’t wait for what comes next. I have been immeasurably blessed. 

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Thank you for taking the time to stop by, to learn about my experience, and share your space with me.

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I am in process, learning to lean in to trust and embrace deep, offshore adventures. Sometimes the waves are intimidating, sometimes they are refreshing, but I endeavour to embrace them either way.

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As we navigate the waters and learn to swim together, I would love to hear from you. If you have questions about my story, want to know more, or if your organization is looking for speaker, please reach out.

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