Am I trying to prove something?

​In my last note, I hinted at a swim that’s been tugging at me.

It’s not just about finishing something I started—it’s about revisiting what it means to give myself permission.

Despite being a lifelong swimmer, adapting to open water hasn’t come easily for me.

I remember a time when I just wanted to get out of open water. I was terrified—of what was underneath, of what I couldn’t see, of the unknown.

First, it was fear. Then it was performance. For a long time, I treated swimming like a job: Get in. Get it done. Get out. Hit the pace. Log the distance. Rinse and repeat.

Eventually, my body spoke up.

Pain and discomfort in my shoulders revealed the ways I was compensating in the unstable medium of the water. I thought I might never swim across lakes or down rivers again.

So, I started from scratch.

Learned to move differently.

I learned to feel.

To stop performing.

Not just to survive the water—but to trust it.

But water has a way of circling back—of asking again what you thought you’d already answered.

This Monday, I return to Lake Shasta to finish the 50-mile route I began for my 50th birthday.

I ask myself: Why? Am I still performing?

These swims ask a lot. I have to step away from my family and my work. I have to ask others to give their time, to show up for me. It disrupts my rhythm—home, business, everything.

Is it worth it?

Sometimes I wonder if they’re indulgent. My pilot sets the course. My support crew feeds me every 30 minutes. All I have to do is swim—that’s it!

Why?

Yes, I want to inspire people to break free of their stories—like I did.
Yes, I want people to know they can feel limitless in the water if they adopt The SwimMastery Way.

But maybe even more than that, I need to remind myself:..

That it’s okay to relinquish responsibility for a day.

It’s okay to depend on others.

It’s important to set out to achieve more than you ever thought possible, and something you could never, ever, have achieved on your own—because you gave yourself permission and asked for help.

Because us humans? We’re better together. And when I remind myself what’s possible in the water, I better understand what I am meant to pursue on land.

Permission doesn’t end in the shallow end. It doesn’t end when you get a best time or reach the far shore. It doesn’t end when you stop being afraid.

It’s ongoing.

It deepens.

It asks more of us—not in effort, but in honesty.

This swim isn’t about proving anything. It’s about trusting what I’ve learned. About letting the water show me where I’m still holding on—and where I’m ready to let go.

If you want to follow along on Monday as I swim from Centimudi Boat Ramp to Jones Valley Resort on Lake Shasta, check for updates @intrepidwater and @jonesvalleyresort.houseboats on Instagram and Facebook.

With you in the deep,
Shannon

P.S. If this stirred something in you—or made you think of someone standing at the edge of their own deep end—feel free to pass it along. And if it sparked a question, a memory, or a quiet yes inside you… I’d love to hear it.