My Autistic Perspective on Reluctantly Knowing when to Tap Out
Bittersweet.
"We have to finish the race..." - Derice Bannock, Cool Runnings
Since childhood, I've always had to be cautious when exercising. I've suffered from asthma my entire life, so simply running for a bus, streetcar, or subway would be more than enough exertion to trigger an attack. In fact, I'm supposed to always carry a puffer with me. As a teenager, I wanted to participate in the CN Tower stair climb but never did due to my risk factor. As a result, I typically participate in leisurely forms of exercise that won't push my lungs too hard, such as walking or cycling. My swimming lessons seemed like a good fit as well, despite the tough curriculum provided by my local aquatic centre.
Up until now, I've been able to persevere through my self-doubt and the progressively harder swimming strokes, tackle my fear of the deep end of the pool head on, and brute force my way through the gruelling gauntlet of laps required to pass each level. These laps were the worst part of the previous two levels of my swimming program, as the overwhelming number of back-to-back laps with only 15 seconds of rest between each, have always triggered my asthma. A couple of times, I forgot my puffer at home, and the aquatic centre doesn't have one in their first aid kit, which was scary for me. Still, I pushed through the pain, kept at it, and always gave it my all.
Unfortunately, the remainder of level 3 consists entirely of the longest and toughest gauntlet yet: a seemingly endless number of gruelling laps spanning each of the various strokes with the stingy 15 seconds of rest for each. Going in, I knew completing level 3 would be a long shot due to my asthma. Still, I was determined to at least give this final gauntlet a try. After two classes of nonstop asthma attacks, my instructor and I came to a mutual agreement that I wouldn't be able to progress any further due to my condition. She tried to help, swimming in front of me and forcing me to take 5-minute breaks between laps, but even with her support, and the frequent use of my puffer, the severe asthma attacks I continued to suffer during each lap made it too dangerous for me to continue. Safety first.
It sucks when you have the drive and determination to accomplish a challenging goal but cannot see it through to completion due to circumstances beyond your control. I won't lie; I'm bummed by this outcome. It's disappointing when your mind and soul are strong enough, but your physical body isn't. I feel like the Jamaican bobsled team at the end of Cool Runnings, crashing moments before completing their run, due to a faulty bobsled, and having to walk across the finish line. It's a bittersweet end to an otherwise incredible journey.
If not for the mandatory completion of this absurd gauntlet of laps, I think I could've passed level 3 and the entire swimming program. Sure, there were some insanely difficult techniques I hadn't yet completed, such as the stride entry or treading water with my hands above my head, but I imagine I would've eventually gotten the hang of each. Unfortunately, there's nothing I could've done about the gauntlet. My sole classmate in level 3 is physically capable of attempting this brutal regimen, though she already pinched a nerve as a result, so it appears nobody's safe from the gauntlet, health restrictions or not.
This leaves me at a crossroads. My instructor will now be working exclusively with my (former?) classmate, evaluating her seemingly infinite laps. As it seems there will be no further swimming lessons in level 3 for me to learn, my instructor has encouraged me to use the remaining weeks to practice what I've already learned, at my own pace, and by myself. Essentially, a few weeks of leisure/adult swim.
I'm not sure what to do. If I carry on, I'll be alone in a sort of swimming limbo, teaching myself, knowing my asthma prevented me from joining my classmate in completing level 3. I'll feel left out and isolated. But if I choose to call it a day, I'll feel like I gave up, which isn't something I want to do, asthma or not. I'm on the fence, but suspect I'll probably attend the remaining weeks, even though they technically wouldn't be "swimming lessons" (more like "DIY swimming").
I don't know why this swimming program puts such a strong emphasis on swimming so many laps, but it is what it is. As I said before, I have zero interest in enlisting in the navy or becoming the next Johnny Weissmuller, so the laps are pointless to me anyway. Regardless of what I choose to do with the remaining sessions, I'm still proud of how far I came and all that I achieved over the past six months. Maybe I can hire a private swimming teacher at some point, who can help me complete this journey, free of grades or laps. This isn't my final post on the topic, as I still plan on writing about my overall level 3 experience. Thanks for reading. Until next time, love, peace, and chicken grease.