Where the Waters Meet

There's nothing like being buffeted by relentless winds, pummeled by swells, and dragged by invisible currents to momentarily liberate you from an existential crisis. As I cleaved through the briny water last Saturday, towing my fluorescent orange safety buoy behind me and praying that my trajectory led toward the finish line rather than the vast Atlantic, my mind detached from all political anxieties and emotional burdens. While not precisely tranquil, the exhilaration and physical ordeal honed my focus to a razor's edge, cultivating profound gratitude for life, vitality, and the privilege of sharing extraordinary experiences with kindred spirits.

Rob and I embarked for St. Kitts last Wednesday, with an interim stop in Miami. I was astonished to discover the island lay a further three hours' flight from Florida—I did not conduct thorough research after finalizing arrangements with SwimTrek to attempt the Nevis to St. Kitts ocean crossing and race. We descended onto the West Indies on an aircraft brimming with aspiring swimmers, mingling and conversing as we located the shuttle destined for our respective hotels. The atmosphere enveloped us in warmth, with tropical clouds suspended like cotton sculptures against bright blue skies, and palm fronds rustling rhythmically in the breeze (which would soon emerge as our formidable adversary).

That evening, we crossed the street to meet up with Colorado friends at the Marriott, where I unexpectedly collided with my closest companion from youth swimming (with two teammates we held the 200-yard free relay record for 13-14 year-olds in New England for nearly two decades). Shocked greetings, warm hugs and hurried introductions ensued—we hadn't encountered one another in over four years and had never been introduced to each other's husbands. What an amazing coincidence—gratitude to the universe!—she wasn't even aware of the swimming event but merely vacationing.

Our practice session the subsequent day proved illuminating, as SwimTrek guided us into the unbounded ocean where the Atlantic converges with the Caribbean Sea, acquainting us with the tumultuous waves and treacherous currents awaiting us during the 2.65-mile competition. The practice only offered 1.5 kilometers, yet as we navigated back into the placid waters of the bay, several participants decided to opt out of the next day's race. Apprehension intensified when event coordinators announced escalating winds forecast for race day and a potential alteration of the course toward a safer, coastline trajectory.

I silently prayed that we could complete the crossing—it was on my bucket list for nearly a decade to accomplish a channel crossing. The English Channel waters are too frigid, the Maui Roughwater swim appeared too remote and unforgivingly turbulent, so I settled on this challenge. Ha! The fates cackled in response.

The water radiated warmth and the sky unblemished on race day. We rose at 5 a.m. to board transportation to the shoreline at St. Kitts, then ferry across to Nevis, the race's origin point. The bumpiness of our ferry ride amplified swimmer concerns about the swells, and our briefing regarding wind and current diverted my attention from seeking sea turtles to contemplating survival. I started the race alongside friends from Colorado but promptly lost visual contact as my safety buoy entangled in a rope in the bay, requiring de-tangling before I could proceed.

The water's salinity was so sharp I had to block the rear of my throat with my tongue to prevent inadvertent swallowing. As we emerged into the unprotected ocean, waves of two to three feet rocked us laterally, compelling me to breathe predominantly to my left to avoid waves in my face. Throughout the journey, I periodically switched to breaststroke to locate the prominent hill serving as my visual reference. I inadvertently collided with several clusters of swimmers, including one containing my friend Sue, but inevitably drifted away from them. The waves impeded our visibility of one another and obscured the finish line. A short rain storm pelted us with cool freshwater, but blew over in a hurry.

Four hundred and eighty-nine individuals registered, yet only 379 completed the course. Many withdrew prior to the start, given the intimidating conditions, and approximately 50 participants were extracted by support personnel, either at the swimmer's request or because they had swum so off-course that completion within the three-hour maximum became impossible.

Sue and I finished virtually simultaneously—she maintained a slight lead and paused for me, extending her hand to assist me as I staggered onto the beach so we could cross the finish line together. Unaccustomed to competitors waiting for me, I was overwhelmed with emotion (and exhaustion). We had both navigated remarkably efficient routes, covering 4.19 kilometers versus the absolute distance of 4.1 kilometers, which conserved our energy and minimized our distress. Some swimmers were displaced by the current and endured an additional kilometer or two (rendering their subsequent struggle against the current to finish truly heroic).

Rob supplied us with endless water as we rested, attempting to regain our mental faculties and hydration. Two of my companions placed in their age category (first and second in the 60-69 classification), an impressive achievement, while I secured fifth position in mine (50-59). This exceeded my expectations; I had intended to proceed at a more leisurely pace and appreciate the surroundings, but conditions rendered pausing impossible!

In summation—nothing quite compares to an adventure punctuated by acute moments of perceived mortality to reinvigorate one's zest for existence and temporarily banish life's mundane concerns.

AOC and Bernie Sanders: Stand Up for Democracy

 In part to battle the existential angst I've wrestled with since November and in part to feel solidarity with like-minded citizens, I went down to Civic Center Park in Denver yesterday to rally for Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio- Cortez. We found comfort in upwards of 30,000 new friends and my daughter, Aden, who miraculously found us in the crowd. The message: Trump and his oligarch bros are stealing from us and from our country and they are ripping up the constitution to replace democracy with mob-style rule.

This message crosses all party lines and they (we) hope it appeals to anyone with common sense, who cares what happens to their neighbors. Neither party in our beleaguered two-party system is doing a good job of standing up for our rights and our inheritance as citizens - the Social Security, Medicaid and Medicare that we have paid into for all of our lives.

Consider that First Amendment rights are under attack on multiple fronts: activists who are legally in the United States have been arrested for saying things that Trump does not like. In Denver, immigrant and labor activist (and immigrant) Jeanette Vizguerra was arrested at her job in Target without a valid order of deportation. Jeanette was bound in chains and hauled off to the GEO - operated detention center in Aurora, her arrest occurring in front of her daughter who reported the agents said "we finally got you!'

Trump has sued CBS and ABC because he does not like the facts that they report. His new compadre Jeff Bezos announced that the editorial pages of the Washington Post could only cover certain topics, and his opinion section editor resigned in protest. We cannot assume that the attacks on free speech will stop there.

Our Fourth Amendment rights are also under attack. Trump wants his ICE agents to be able to enter homes without a warrant. Such an action has been (since the Constitution was amended with the Bill of Rights) illegal and would infringe on basic civil liberties. We need to wake up, talk to our neighbors and organize, and we need to do it now - or these changes will roll over all of us like a tidal wave and soon our peaceful and legal marches, rallies and protests will be under attack from this administration.

Our veterans, amazing men and women who put their lives on the line for this country in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan, are having their services frayed by cuts made to the Veterans Administration. When Sanders pointed out the bravery that our troops showed in fighting to preserve our democracy, and the shocking way they (and our democracy) are being treated now, my stomach turned over. My father was in Vietnam with the Army and his exposure to Agent Orange most likely caused his terminal illness - I can't believe the cretins currently running our government think they can remove support for people like my dad.

One more thought to leave you with: last Saturday (March 15, 2025), Trump's administration defied a court order that says he could not deport Venezuelan immigrants to El Salvador. Despite a back-and-forth between the judge and the administration over when, exactly, the planes took off it has been noted that the second plane took off after the order came down. Consider then what power the courts actually have if the executive branch ignores them? Our system of checks and balances is coming down around us - Trump is immune and his pardon power and shamelessness mean that his cronies are nearly so.

This news hurricane leaves us all depressed and dispirited, but now is the time to fight back. However you choose to participate, it's time to organize, or we will lose the form of government that has brought relative peace, prosperity and influence to our country for almost 250 years. Our government needs to change - we can all agree on that - but considered, thoughtful change, not a process that strips our government and sells it for parts.

Girls in Sports

 "Previous studies have found that 70% of children quit sports by age 13, and by age 14 girls quit at twice the rate of boys."

"Reasons participants gave for abandoning sports were coaching issues, poor body image comparison from social media and the competitive pressure of the sport."

Nemours Childrens Health

I started coaching for a USA Swimming affiliated year-round club team in September. I stepped back for two and a half months during girls' high school season, so I have really only coached club for three to four months. I enjoy the kids immensely, and I am so happy that some of my high school swimmers joined me with the club team to keep training through spring, summer and fall.

One big concern I have with youth sports is the number of young teens who quit sports by age 14 - particularly the girls. Participating in sports gave me confidence, a lifetime addiction to working out, a healthy overall lifestyle, and physical strength. Swimming did the same thing for my older son and daughter. My daughter and I still lift weights together (she lifts more!) and I love to see the number of women who are comfortable in the weight room. One young woman recently came up to Aden after bench press and whispered "you have great arms." Fabulous!

But why do so many girls leave? I have much more research to do, but the Nemours summary rings true. Common sense indicates that coaching has something to do with it, along with body image issues, development in puberty making girls uncomfortable in a changing body, and competitive pressure. As a coach, I try to ratchet down that pressure, focusing on technique, process, and each swimmer bettering themselves. A major emphasis for our group is having fun, trying to get to know each other (despite having heads underwater most of the time), and learning technique.

Striving for excellence as an individual can be separate from a focus on goal times and how well you do compared to others. Striving for excellence as a team can mean building community, teaching young people how to work through adversity and overcome obstacles, as well as swimming fast. In this crazy world, sports can prepare young people for the challenges of adulthood and provide them with a safe place to come when their school or social networks provoke angst.

I'm in the learning stages of supporting youth, especially young women, in staying with sport, and I can't wait to learn more and do it better.

AI and the Creative Process: Finding Balance

After the girls' high school swim season ended, I discovered I had amassed over 300 pages of swim workouts scattered across my computer. On a whim, I uploaded them all to Claude, the AI assistant my husband regularly uses. Now, when I need to create new swimming sets, Claude helps me design them using both my historical workout data and the specific focus I want for that day. It's remarkably effective—and yes, a tiny bit unsettling. But I still maintain control over the final product, exercising my judgment on any output, which helps me feel like I'm still "driving the bus."

Rob helped me set up my project with Claude and urged me to test out different scenarios. According to Amazon Web Services, as much as 57% of all online content is generated by AI. As consumers of information,  it's important to recognize this fact and to be aware of how the technology works. 

My mother is visiting from Montana, and we've just revived a children's book project we started during the pandemic. I have three rough drafts and valuable feedback from a brilliant member of my writing club. Yesterday, we took our first chapter to Claude with specific requests: put the action first, trim the exposition, and refine the dialogue to authentically reflect both the character's age and the late 1940s setting.

The experience is fascinating. After each reading, we tell Claude what needs adjustment and watch as edits appear in real-time. We read, suggest changes, and iterate again. As someone with an English degree and a Master's in Creative Writing, I should be horrified by these efficiencies and mourn the diminishing need for writing expertise. Instead, I find myself more excited than upset. After all, the words originated with me, and the editorial direction remains mine. Claude never tires and never takes my changes personally. I keep reassuring myself that the quality of the final product depends on the quality of my input—at least for now.

My husband reminds me that AI is growing more sophisticated and capable of learning every day. AI already shapes many aspects of our daily lives, from how we shop online to how we connect with news, friends, and products through apps. I acknowledge the potential dangers when AI is used unethically, and I remain wary of the AI industry's growing influence in Washington.

But right now, I'm simply enjoying the experience of collaboratively rewriting a book with my mother—and Claude—hopefully transforming it into something truly engaging for readers.

PS - This blog post was also edited by Claude. ;-)

Cutting

 We had our Family Day brunch on Sunday and sat outside blinking in the bright Colorado sunshine as icicles dripped and splattered off the table behind us. The conversation ranged widely from swimming to school classes to politics. Our kids are a bit concerned about what the economy will do when affected by tariffs and job cuts. They can already see the online jobs websites flooded by recent layoffs.

The idea of cutting back on waste and trimming fat is not inherently bad or wrong. Our son, William, even mentioned that he wanted to personally "cut" to get in better aerobic shape and reduce any extra weight (not that he carries much on his 21-year-old frame).  But ruthless cuts can injure a body, a staff, a company, a country. 

Let's look at National Parks, for example, whose staff recently lost 1,000 full-time positions. My family and friends visit National Parks several times per year and we rely on staff to let us in, help us park, provide clean restrooms and maintain trails. Not only have these staffers lost their dream job - for which they are highly qualified - but park visitors will not see helpful rangers, not experience clean facilities,  not receive medical aid after injuries and face more threats from wildfires. 

These cuts are reckless. There is no plan for how to operate our National Parks going forward, no fall-back, no appreciation for the importance of our National spaces. National Parks have been flooded with visitors since COVID and - despite their growing popularity - have now been carelessly trashed.  If you want to comment on the layoffs please visit npca.org/jobcuts. Enough is enough.

Family Day - 17 Years Later

 I wrote this paragraph in 2018, on the ten year anniversary of our Family Day, when Daniel received his U.S. passport:

-February 14, 2018

I remember talking with the grandparents of another young boy who was going home that day. The grandmother explained that she and her husband had to come finish the adoption process for her daughter as the younger woman was now nine months pregnant and couldn't fly. She mused on how close her grandchildren would be in age (less than one year) and on how different they would look.

"You're so lucky," she said, her eyes sweeping across our fair-skinned Daniel, playing with his siblings. "He will be able to pass," and her eyes fell to the darker-skinned baby in her arms, "and our grandchild definitely will not."

I had to pause and blink several times as I processed her statement. "Pass?" I repeated with at a higher octave. I felt like I'd been thrown back to a previous century.

"Yes, pass. He will look white, like the rest of you. This little one," and she patted his plump, dimpled arm "will not."

I never forgot her statement, couldn't believe people were thinking that way and using the word "pass" as if it was still important to pretend to be white in the 21st century. 

Fast forward to early January, when Daniel and I were discussing our new government's policies on immigrants, he shocked me by saying virtually the same thing as the woman in the embassy, "I'm lucky - I look like you guys. I don't think ICE would even look twice at me, but I am worried about my friends who are darker."

I flashed back to the day when I ignorantly overlooked her comment as aged and irrelevant. Turns out it is true now as it has been for four hundred years: the lighter your skin the easier your life. What does it say about our country that we've gone backwards? That my son, a US citizen of 17 years, has to carry his passport and US government - issued ID with him when he walks on his college campus? 

I will leave you to your own conclusions since mine are evidently short-sighted.

Attention - Seeking

 "Attention is the new money."  - Ezra Klein on the Ezra Klein Show

Sociologists have observed the shrinking attention span of modern Americans, most obvious in teenagers but impacting adults, as well. Horrified by my own increasing phone usage, I vowed to reduce it in the new year and succeeded for a whole week before the "time on your phone" stat crept up again. As I'm in the thick of it with high school swimming I tell myself that it's just swim times and playlists, but I can't quite pull the wool over my own eyes (such is my preoccupation with swimming, though, that I first wrote "pool" instead of "pull").

Any increased phone usage is not spent on news doom-scrolling, I guarantee you, since my peace of mind can't tolerate more than thirty seconds of the current headlines. My first venture back into non-frivolous podcasting (i.e. NOT "Call Her Daddy" or "Not Gonna Lie with Kylie Kelce") was my listen to Ezra Klein's show last week. 

Klein's statement "attention is the new money" caught me off-guard while at the same time hitting home. He noted that the oligarchs now on podiums and in seats of government are not your standard billionaires but the ones who control the flow of information via websites, newspapers and social media sites. Those who control information can alter reality for users of their platforms. As Klein noted, one party seems to understand this and one does not - to their great detriment.

I will leave further political observations to the experts but remind myself that Klein's concise summary runs parallel to familiar exhortations "Where the mind goes, energy flows" and the Biblical "Where your heart is, there your treasure will be also." I am trying - for now - to focus on the positive and fill my brain with positive possibilities instead of negative outcomes. I want my energy flowing to life-affirming actions that I can control. These include music I listen to, books or articles that I read, and to helping the young people I coach.

My current favorite playlist has "sun keeps on shining" (almost monday), "Life is Beautiful" (Tim McMorris) and "Feeling Alive"  (Earl St. Clair). The upbeat, positive music sinks in so much that some days I wake up singing "Life is great, life is beautiful."  Good books keep me focused on the positive power of words, and affirming young swimmers helps them reach goals. If attention is the new money, I want to build up my resources and spend them well.

Nuggets of Wisdom

My acupuncturist is an amazing healer, a fiery Colombian American and self-avowed recovering Catholic. Each time I visit her sky blue office I feel soothed and supported while at the same time challenged and uplifted. Her belief in the divine is supported by her knowledge of quantum physics (right up my alley) and she discusses frequencies with fervor.

A few treasured observations from my visit yesterday:

- "Monkeys don't like monks." This witty assessment of how Gregorian chants can be an antidote for stress and the so-called 'monkey-mind,' even for recovering Catholics (although she asked permission to play that particular arrangement, acknowledging that some raised Catholics could be anti-monk, or at least averse to chanting).

- "The Spanish word for faith is fe, which = force and energy."   I love this, as my faith has taken a beating since 2016, when I felt that Christianity was co-opted by people who act the least like Jesus of anyone I've ever met. Deyba talked about how Jesus' positive energy, his high frequency, was so powerful that he could walk into any group of people and change their existing energy field. She explains how we can raise our own frequencies with positivity and optimism, how we can also use our force and energy for good and positively alter the energy of a person or even a room of people that we encounter. This takes a lot of work, a great deal of self-care, and healthy boundaries.

I'm working on the healthy boundaries. As an oldest daughter, a woman raised in 1980's "Ronald and Nancy Reagan" America, I am certainly a people-pleaser. Deyba has been teaching me to do what I need to do for my health and my peace of mind, making choices for better sleep, fewer conflicts, positive outlook (manta - 'everything is always working out for me') and healthy eating, reading, listening.  

If we could all hum our way to higher frequencies, how much better could we be? (Apparently humming is another wonderful way to soothe and uplift). I'm prepared to wield humming, good health and Gregorian chants as we enter 2025.

PS - Thinking of everyone in CA affected by the fires and praying for quick resolution and no further loss of life.

 

Resolute in 2025

I stopped making specific new year's resolutions a few years ago, probably around the time I turned 50 and realized that the years march on regardless of my more-healthy diet or my vow to spend less time on my phone. Ideas for self-improvement float into my head year-round, and the restlessness has previously fed my need to stay busy, to do meaningful things, to deny myself rest. While these personality traits are difficult to shake, wisdom won through trying experiences has made me want to be resolute in the face of whatever comes, and not to make resolutions to make myself better for mysterious times ahead.

My friend Hana sent me this lovely poem by Donna Ashworth that expresses such sentiments better than I can, and I want to share it with you.

"On the stroke of midnight tonight,
You can resolve to be better, if you like...
To be fitter, to eat cleaner, to work harder.

On the stroke of midnight tonight,
You can resolve to become a 
Whole new you, if you so choose.

Or, you can take a moment to acknowledge
All you already are,
Because it's a lot. You're a lot.

And you deserve to be commended.

On the stroke of midnight tonight,
Perhaps you could congratulate yourself
For coping, for breaking again,
And for rebuilding again.

For catching the stones 
Life has thrown at you and using them
To build your castle that
Little bit stronger.

You have endured, my friend.

And I don't see the need to resolve 
To become a whole new you,
When you are already so very much indeed.
Happy new year. You made it.

Now let us face another 365-day turn, 
Arms wide, accepting and embracing
And 'seeing' each other
For all we are."

Happy New Year xxoo!