Staying Afloat

Today I started my new workout routine. I have decided that one of the best ways to combat boredom is to exercise and really, with my new job at the pilates studio where I get classes for free, there is absolutely no reason for me to not get my fitness on. I had decided that the perfect workout combination would be free classes at the studio and a few days at the swim center by school. So this morning I awoke, went to the grocery since my cupboards were bare, and then made a quick trip to the Sports Direct to pick up a one piece swim suit, goggles, and swim cap.

I came home and ate a healthy lunch, one specifically designed by myself to give me optimum energy for the laps of swimming that awaited me. Below is a picture to demonstrate my excitement and determination for my newfound athleticism that I posted to my "little sister" Kasey's facebook wall.

Overly excited.

Note the coordination of goggles to swimsuit. Yes I was ready. Or so I thought. Meeting my friend Claire at the Highbury&Islington station, we walked on to the swim center. The smell of chlorine welcomed me, harking back to childhood times spent at Hilliard's West Pool with the Crosscreek hooligans. Once I was suited up and sitting on the edge of the pool, Claire went through the basics. Stroking and rhythm, breathing, concentrating on your core. Also, concentrate on your finger tips and your arm motion and your ankles and the way your feet cut through the water. Basically concentrate on every part of your body at once. But I wasn't deterred. Summers spent at the quarry and in various friends' pools made me think that I was more than capable.

Post swimming breakdown: everything hurts. To be more precise the back of my arms hurt, the awkward space between thigh and personal zone, my abs, the muscles around my shoulder blades. I undoubtedly underestimated the difficulty of lane swimming. Often times, while trying to get the rhythm of stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, I found my body telling my brain I was dying. A childhood of asthma attacks has programmed my body to go into spastic mode when I am even remotely on the verge of being deprived of oxygen. Basically, swimming is hard. Below is a picture of how I felt after.

Funny, I sleep just like this.

And then on the train ride home, as the ache in the back of my arms turned to a steady burning and my gym showered hair started to dry in the breeze of the open windows, I started thinking about the last couple months. Living abroad is challenging and everyone knows this. But for me the last two months have been particularly challenging. Money problems have been the root of most of my anxiety, but a bit of homesickness, boredom, and the beginnings of dissertation panic attacks all culminated to make these past two months seem almost impossible to get through. At times I felt like I was drowning. My head would pop to the surface for just a second; I would spit, gasp, fill my lungs before I plunged below the surface again. I have felt deflated and defeated. But the thing is, I haven't drowned. Somehow I've manage to tread water, float, keep myself alive as the water creeps higher and higher. 

Things aren't getting any easier and the pressure won't  let up until I get my school loan disbursement, which could be another month or so. Paying my rent terrifies me, I wonder how I'm going to put money on my electric meter, and above all this I find myself wondering if I'm cut out for this ex-patriot lifestyle. But really if I have made it this far then I can make it as long as I need to. And if I can make it as long as I need to then maybe that need will turn into a want and a real life will develop. I'm not saying I'm staying; really at this point I'm content to pack up my clothing and my memories and come back to the good old U-S-of-A. But the point is if I changed my mind and wanted to stay then I think I could do it.

I may look like an idiot flailing around in the water at the pool. And I may look even more like an idiot in my everyday life just trying to figure out how to get by one day at a time. But looking like an idiot is fine by me because I'm growing stronger.  So I'm going to keep going to the swim center (probably much to the enjoyment of the lifeguards) until I master the art of lane swimming. And I'm going to keep at this foreign lifestyle because if I've made it this far then really I think I am capable of just about anything.