Small choices. Big ripple.
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550 yards This week, I realized I was swimming to the other side just because it was there. I was following my plan—I teach a class at Rogue X on Wednesdays from 12-1 PM and after class I do a 60 minute practice. It’s the only day of the week that I swim in a “regular” pool, and I’ve come to expect the level of effort that I put in so that I can check off the box for doing some amount of time in Zones 4 and 5. When I planned my week on Sunday, it looked great—I was going to get in strength,…
I’ve been noticing something lately. In my own head, the pieces of my work feel deeply connected — my own swimming, the coaching I do, the stories I’ve gathered through my podcast, and what I write about each week. But I’ve realized that from the outside, these can look scattered across different places, serving different purposes. So I’m making a small but meaningful shift in where my longer reflections live. Starting this week, I’m publishing on Substack — where my podcast, Stories from the…
You can’t hold the water. In my last post, I wrote about how swimming isn’t just about getting to the side—it’s about giving yourself permission. To slow down. To feel. To stop performing. That permission doesn’t end in the shallow end. I don’t just teach swimming. I help people rewrite their relationship with the water—and often, with themselves. And this isn’t just about beginners. Even experienced swimmers can find themselves gripping, striving, trying to get it “right.” How do you carry…
Hit Reset I gave up. That’s the thought I couldn’t shake as waves crested over the bow on our boat ride back to the marina—25 hours after I’d first pushed off into Lake Memphremagog. What does it mean to not finish—again? I had pushed off into a headwind at 3 PM the day before with 50 miles ahead of me. Through the night, I swam under stars, imagining I was playing tag with the boat, warmed by lemon ginger tea and imagining that I was snuggling with my kids. Eventually the wind shifted to…
One Thing at a Time Yesterday I got out of the pool and lingered in my bubble. If I resist the urge to pick up my phone and see what I missed, I can hold on to the bliss for just a few minutes longer. Then the wave comes… the meeting I’m supposed to be in, the emails I missed, the messages unanswered. The shift from clarity to chaos is swift and merciless. In the water, I know what to focus on. While it can be overwhelming, it’s a practice I’ve honed for 3 years now: choose one thing—just…