I don’t know about you, but for me, this year has been more than a little strange. Since mid-March, I’ve been working from home. I spent three weeks in complete isolation in my small (but beautifully decorated) apartment because I routinely work with students from all over the world, and the week before we went into lock down, I attended a student fair with more than 3000 attendees.
After three weeks alone, I was feeling both exceptionally grateful, and a little low.
Grateful, because I know I am never truly alone (Joshua 1:9); because I have a wonderful family and a caring boyfriend who checked in on me regularly; because I was warm and dry and well fed and full of supernatural peace despite circumstances that are way beyond my control.
A little low, because although I am an introvert and alone time is often a salve for my soul, by the end of three weeks, I was ready for some FaceTime (not the virtual variety) with my people.
My parents (bless their hearts) have lovingly welcomed me back to their beautiful country home since the conclusion of my self-isolation. Easter weekend, 2020, I made my way to small-town Ontario, and I have never been more happy to breathe in clean, cool country air. Somehow, ever since I was small, the stars have seemed brighter, and yes, the grass has seemed a little greener in my hometown. No matter where I’ve been, it always feels good to come home.
Our time together has been filled with sweet memories and tough moments. Transition is hard, and moving back into your parent’s house after being away for about ten years, is quite the transition. Add to that a global pandemic, the death of a pet, and some other significant stressors, and you have the perfect recipe for a boiling caldron of heightened emotions (without the witches of course!).
Despite a few stressful moments, I feel like we’ve done pretty well to recognize this time for what it is - an unexpected season of togetherness. It’s been really beautiful - a rich and unanticipated blessing.
It has been such a privilege to be able to work from home – to head to the lake over my lunch breaks, and to reconnect with my wonderful, God-fearing, hardworking parents. If someone had stopped me in the street at Christmas time last year and told me that 2020 would be spent this way, I would have laughed.
But here we are.
Much of my time has been relatively ‘rosy’ (compared to much of the heartache that has crippled many corners of our world). I am not oblivious to the heartache (far from it!), and I recognize what a privilege it is to have lived through this crisis with all of the luxuries I have, and that I share with most of our wealthy nation.
With this in mind, and acknowledging that it sounds incredibly privileged, I must admit that one of the most challenging parts of this time for me has been the lack of access to a gym.
For those of you who don’t know, I have Cerebral Palsy (CP), spastic diplegia. For me, CP translates to a disability which effects mostly my legs, and limits my ability to move about independently. I use forearm crutches to walk, and a mobile scooter for longer distances (such as navigating a university campus). Growing up, I used a combination of a wheelchair and walker to get around, until I started to train as a competitive swimmer.
When I was eight years old, I met marathon-swimming-wonder Vicki Keith for the first time. Vicki holds something like a gazillion world records (check the record books folks, I’m not kidding!) for her miraculous open water feats in the name of philanthropy.
For a kid, Merrywood summer camp was a wonderful place to be most days, but this was a particularly beautiful, hot summer day. The lake was warm and calm. My family and I were in the middle of a week of family camp. Merrywood is a summer camp specifically designed to offer respite for families, and marvellous adaptive adventures for kids with disabilities and their siblings.
My sister and I always had the time of our lives during our weeklong summer visit to Merrywood camp (according to Mom and Dad, we sobbed all the way home, every year). This year though, we had no idea that something - or rather, someone would happen at Merrywood that would change our lives forever.
Vicki came up out of the lake like a mermaid (yes, she swam to camp!) and proceeded to awe the campers (and their parents) with her passion and her dreams. She told us about her hope to start a swim program for children with physical disabilities and their able-bodied siblings.
Recognizing the freedom and opportunity presented by the water for young people - especially those with disabilities - to gain confidence, independence, balance and strength, plus the social benefits provided by a sports team, Vicki was determined to recruit resources (and swimmers!) for the commencement of an adaptive swim program.
Knowing what little fishies their daughter’s were, my parents jumped on the Vicki Keith bandwagon, and my sister and I became two of the inaugural seven members of the Kingston Y Penguins Aquatic Club Swim Team.
Swimming quickly became a massively important part of our lives. It turned out that I was a natural in the water, and it benefited my body immensely. I gained strength and balance and confidence and friendships and success.
I quickly rose up the competitive ranks, until I was swimming on the international stage for Team Canada. I travelled the world and made remarkable memories.
Despite my success in the pool, the pressure of the race made me nearly unbearably anxious. I loved to train; I loved to push my body to it’s limit and then some. I loved the weightless freedom of the water beneath me, and the way I could propel myself forward; graceful in a way I never hoped to be on land.
I loved the pool for everything it offered me, but I was a miserable competitor. Despite my misery, I found my home in endurance athletics, and continued to compete and train tirelessly.
To offer some perspective - the year after I finished high school (and again after my first year of university), I took a year off to train. Those years were some of the most physically and mentally exhausting - yet rewarding - years of my life. I trained for six hours a day, a combination of pool sets and dry-land drills.
Vicki - my dedicated, inspiring, hardworking coach - became a pool-Mom, a mentor, a friend, and a butt-buster for me.
I used to be super fit. I have always struggled with my weight (I’m still working on this whole love-your-body-embrace-your-beauty thing) but as a competitive and marathon swimmer, I knew I could count on my body. I was strong and fit and healthy, and I worked hard to stay in shape.
After I retired from competitive swimming, I took a few years off to give my body and mind a break, and to establish a social life outside of athletics (something I hadn’t had in a very long time).
I had just finished my third year of a Communications degree at University when I went from exercising nearly six hours a day, to rarely ever exercising at all. I experienced decreased stress (weird, I know, but I’m pretty sure it was because I suddenly stopped being overwhelmed by performance anxiety, and the guilt of not wanting to compete) and suddenly I had time on my hands. Time for friends, time for school, time for life outside of the pool.
Post-retirement, I happily adopted a ‘lazy’ lifestyle for a few years. By ‘lazy’, I mean physically so. Mentally, I was more on my game than I had been in a while: I dove into school (school, and more school) and learned who i was outside of the pool. For that matter, I learned that I could be someone outside of the pool, and that I could like her, too.
Those were good years. Important, challenging, refreshing, frustrating, stretching, beautiful years. I learned that I didn’t need chlorine or a crowd or a record to make me whole - that I could do that all on my own.
Because of my disability, my body noticed my retreat from the pool. My brain and soul were being fulfilled, but my body was noticing the lack of exercise. I ignored it for a while; I was tired. Mentally and physically. And I didn’t want to face what I knew waited for me; all that I had lost in my time away. Could I accept that I wasn’t who I used to be? That I no longer needed to ‘leave it all’ in the pool, and that my body was no longer prepared to do so?
I’m still figuring out how to ‘have fun’ in the water. I started by getting a gym membership at a rather ‘posh’ gym. One that feels a little like a spa, with a fancy cafe and hair bar, and towel service and steam room, and of course, a pool. This particular gym even has a ‘women’s only’ area which was really helpful for me as I was getting back into my groove.
Once I had re-embraced a semi-regular workout schedule, I hired a personal trainer. My best friend’s husband is a gym buff, and a super sweetheart. He volunteered to help me with training, and although it took some figuring, he quickly became familiar enough with my body mechanics, and all of the weird ways my body works.
On the days we didn’t gym (which weren’t many) I swam. Sometimes, I did both. I was feeling fit and fabulous. My body remembered what it was like to work and sweat and hurt, and I loved it. My balance was improving, my strength was coming back, and my motivation was high.
After about a year of intensity, my bestie moved, and my training schedule was interrupted.
I took a short break, but quickly got back into the swing of things. Ironically (at least for a hardcore, competitive athlete) I found joy and freedom in frequent aquafit classes. My gym offers a crazy number of the things, and I started swimming again, nearly every day. It wasn’t intense or hardcore or competitive, but it was fun, and I was feeling accomplished and fit.
Enter Covid-19. No more gym access for me. No more aquafit. No more regular sense of accomplishment, fun or fitness.
I’ll be honest, despite the fact that I know it’s important, I have been struggling during these months to stay motivated. At first, in my apartment, I would wear a path in the carpet for 45 minutes everyday, just trying to stay limber. Then, I went home, and my mom and I started to head to the lake on my lunch hours. Such blessings, but it’s hard to see progress, or even maintain, without a real routine.
A couple of weeks ago, in the midst of my struggle to develop a routine, I had the joyous opportunity to catch up with my spectacular swim coach - a woman for whom I hold so much respect and admiration - to talk about goal setting. At the time, when I asked Vicki to share her secrets with me, this was a topic that was relevant for my life, and I hope it will be helpful for yours, too.
I’m a big proponent of setting Big, Hairy, Audacious goals. I believe - and have proven in my own life - that with faith, determination, the right support network, and belief in yourself, you can do anything you set your mind to.
See the video below for Vicki’s top tips on how to set and attain big, hairy audacious goals:
Vicki makes an incredibly important point. During this time, or really at any other time in our lives, it can begin to seem overwhelming to try to set big, hairy, audacious goals. Like creating and sticking to a regular workout schedule during Covid-19 (😩).
There is a lot going on in the world, and there is no shame in wherever you find yourself today. Be honest and be fair. Sometimes, we need to gift ourselves the same compassion we so quickly give to others.
You don’t have to have it all together. I don’t have to have it all together. We are our own worst enemies, dear ones.
Let’s give ourselves a big squeeze (in lieu of squeezing those we love to respect social distancing measures 😉), recognize and appreciate where we have been and what we have learned, and fix ourselves in the present. Let’s experience the joy of being alive today, and look toward the future with anticipation. This is a time for growing. A time for stretching. A time for hoping and aching and becoming.
After, and even in the midst of this global crisis, who do you want to be?
I want to be someone who is present. Who loves herself and others well, without reservation. Who pursues the heart of her neighbour without fear. Who lives out of Joy and Peace and who is not consumed by anxiety. I want to be someone who embraces deep end adventures and banishes a little more darkness every day.
Rather than perfection, let’s aim for progress.
If you - like me - are in the business of struggling, but dreaming and wanting and hoping for the motivation to start (or to start again) to set and achieve a big, hairy, audacious goal, I would encourage you to take a page out of my coaches’ playbook.
Start small. Wash one dish. Then another. Then another. Before you know it, your kitchen will start to resemble a kitchen again, and maybe - just maybe - you’ll start to be able to see the table. Once you can see the table, pull up a chair and grab a piece of paper. Write out small, incremental, attainable steps that you achieve as you work toward success.
Remember, the size of the goal is not important. Simply having a goal, and being motivated to follow through by recognizing its value, is what is truly important.
Maybe you need to call a friend you haven’t seen in a while. Maybe you need to clean your closet. Maybe you need to cook a nutritious meal. Maybe you need to set aside some quality time to spend with your spouse and your kids. Maybe you need to put your phone away at the dinner table.
I need to commit to exercising regularly (at least three times per week, same day, same time) at an intensity that raises my heart rate.
That doesn’t sound too big, hairy or audacious considering some of the workout schedules I’ve maintained in the past. But, the broader goal of achieving lifetime fitness does feel pretty audacious in our current circumstances.
By setting an attainable schedule, I will be able to achieve the BHA goal of lifetime fitness, without burning out (as I’ve done in the past).
Now, I need to determine how I will accomplish and sustain my goal, and invest the time, energy and motivation to accomplish it.
Why? Because lifetime fitness is important for me, both mentally and physically. Because when I am physically fit, I feel like the best (read: strongest, most confident) version of myself.
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BHA Goal = life-time fitness.
Steps for Success =
Write down why life-time fitness is important for me, and what I need to do to accomplish my goal (✔️)
Believe life-time fitness is a possibility for me.
Realize, that despite the challenges posed by COVID-19 and the inaccessibility of traditional gyms, it is possible for me to create an at-home fitness program using body weight, other household items, and the lake (as long as the mild weather lasts).
Find an accountability partner; someone who will motivate and inspire me, and perhaps who I can motivate and inspire in return. Check in regularly (1/wk).
Pick three days of the week, and time of day when I will be able to exercise for a period of time (eg. Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 4:30 pm, after work, or 7 am, before work).
Determine length and nature of activity (eg. swimming, walking, strength training @ 45 minutes/session).
Write down various workout routines/weekly variations (organize schedule in a calendar, for accountability).
Determine a definition of ‘progress’ to be modified as time passes (eg. increased strength and balance, muscle mass, cardiovascular health).
Get. To. Work!
Record weekly results (using Fitbit or other means) in order to conceptualize progress.
**This is to serve as an example only. It may not encompass all steps necessary to accomplish my goal!
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Whatever the size and scope of your goal, start small. Remember that with faith, determination, the right support network, and belief in yourself, you can do anything you set your mind to.
And don’t be afraid to fail. And fail. And fail again.
We learn the greatest lessons - and grow and stretch and become the strongest versions of ourselves - when we face adversity and don’t succeed, but refuse to give up.
Don’t let disappointment slow you down. Recognize your worth, and save some compassion for yourself.
I’m still learning what this looks like, but every time I get it right, my soul is glad.
💕