Keep Your Stinking Ribbons.

Before I could walk or even crawl, I could swim. My mom often tells the story of how a woman at our local pool suffered a near heart attack when, at the age of 2, I walked over in my diaper and jumped right in to the deep end. It was like that familiar footage of newborn sea turtles that break out of their shells, shimmy to the surface of the sand, and instinctively crawl toward the water. Without influence or suggestion, I simply knew the water was where I wanted to be…all the time. I had the chlorine tinted hair and wrinkly extremities to prove it. And my affection for it would remain alive and well until competitive swimming entered my life. Sadly, adding structure, discipline, and a bunch of blue ribbon obsessed parents to the mix robbed it of all that was special to me, and I retired my little suit and cap by age 6.

Now, at 31, I look back on that early instinctive drive with wonder. It seemed to fade with childhood, only to be gradually replaced by all the things I was attempting to escape when I quit swimming. Rules, opinions, competitiveness and insecurities are far more accurate characterizations of adulthood than the self-assurance I felt as a child. You would think the opposite would be true, that people would get closer to their true identity, but in my experience that is rarely the case.

So, when I ran out of ideas last year, and life was feeling like a bit of a crapshoot, my thoughts turned back to those early swimming days and a strange calm came over me. Suddenly, while seated on the patio of a quaint Olympic Peninsula lakeside resort, I had a defining moment. You know what? Screw that stupid swim team and all of the overbearing parents. And the blue ribbons? You can keep your stinking ribbons! And in the midst of my confusion, anxiety and frustration around figuring out who I was and what I wanted to do, I felt sure of one thing. Something I knew to be as true in that moment as it had ever been. And so, on a peaceful summer evening surrounded by dozens of strangers all dressed up for dinner, I ran to the edge of the dock, jumped into the lake, and went for a swim.

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