‘A supportive person doesn’t just listen; they remind you of your strength when you forget.’ – Elizabeth Laing Thompson; US author
Last week my friend poured herself into a wetsuit and slipped into the cold water of the Atlantic just off Cape Town to make the 7.5km swim (just shy of 5 miles) from Robben Island – where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for so many years – to Big Bay.
Defying the cold and the jelly fish (six different types can be found in this area), she dug deep into all the training preparation she’d done over the past year and the steely determination that started her on this path, and swam. Accompanied by a support boat, she braved the swell and the currents to strike out for the far shore, reckoning that she should complete the distance in 3-4 hours.
Every swimmer had a box of food and drink – mostly energy gels, sports drinks and easily digestible snacks – allotted to them on their support boat skippered and crewed by experienced individuals. Nourishment was offered every 30-45 minutes as preferred, with the swimmers treading water to receive them.
We joined my friend’s husband to see the first member of the group arrive on the sand and be welcomed ‘home’ by a posse from the long distance swimming club. Despite his wet suit, he was clearly cold but thrilled with his achievement, as he well deserved to be.
From our vantage point the accompanying boats looked tiny and the swimmers next to them, barely discernible. It looked like we might have quite a wait, but sitting in the sunshine by the sea is never a hardship.
We could see from a phone App that she was more than half way already. Fantastic.
And then, apparent disaster. Perfectly safe and gently brought back to the beach, my poor friend had found the conditions had made her terribly, horribly seasick. Vomiting on land is unpleasant enough but by the time you’ve done that seven times in cold water in which jelly fish are prevalent, it’s not a surprise that a body may say, ‘Enough is enough,’ and call it quits. It was a good decision.
Bless her; tearful and gutted we enfolded in hugs as other friends pulled a towel around her and guided her up the slipway, into a changing room to dry off and pile on some layers. A queasy tummy meant that warming liquids were not welcome at that point!
So no, she didn’t make the distance but she did make the decision to go. She did do all the training; she did discipline herself to ensure that she was as ready as she could be to face the conditions on the day which the organisers had diligently assessed in order to pick the optimum day. Her achievement was impressive, remarkable and praise-worthy,
Listening to her talk through her chattering teeth and rueful almost-smile I realised the vital importance of everyone who never actually got into the water.
The friends who have swum with her over many months have spurred her on. The members of the swimming club who arrived early and stayed until the last swimmer returned to terra firma cheered as loudly for her as they did for those who staggered exhausted but victorious through the brine. The crew on the boat who willed her to keep going but didn’t want to pull her out too early; who were anxious for her health and her safety but refused to make the call until she made it herself and then swiftly bundled her up gently to sail her back, were all exemplary in their care.
We greeted her with applause and sympathetic tears, hugs and reassurance. She had let nobody down and deserves to feel enormously proud of everything she’s accomplished.
What really struck me that day was how much all of us owe to those who cheer us on, regardless of our daily demands. That’s unlikely to include an endurance swim for me, but I need supporters just as much as you do. The friends who check in on us, express affirmation, encourage us to keep going and mark even our small victories are worth their weight in gold. They walk alongside us, joke with us, cry with us, ask difficult questions, stretch us, challenge us and love us to bits.
Perhaps your victory is simply getting out of bed today. It may be getting dressed, fed and leaving the house. It could be completing a significant work project, making a difficult phone call, giving a presentation, finding your voice, cooking a meal or forgiving someone who has hurt you deeply. We each ‘swim’ our own marathon each day and most of us are our own worst critics.
For me, the ‘swim’ is often the pitching or submission of a piece of writing, or seeing something in print which I’d forgotten I’d written. But, without the appreciation, metaphorical applause and welcome texts, feedback, emojis or memes, it would certainly be a bleaker endeavour.
Last week I was able to cheer on someone else. I didn’t do the swim – not a single stroke – yet I felt part of the day.
As a mum of four, I have plenty of opportunities to do more cheering, supporting and hugging for my family and my friends, as well as for the friends I just haven’t met yet.
So, thank you to everyone who has subscribed to this blog. Thanks to all who follow me on various social media platforms, who read my various bits of writing in hard copy, ebook or online. Many of you I know well; some I have met at various events; others I know by name only. Please know that I appreciate you all.
I[mages: beach photo my own; all others from Pixabay/Unsplash]
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