Becky Clark

Pish, Anyone Can Do This

For reasons mostly related to my body falling apart, I’ve started swimming every morning at our Rec Center.

I was on my high school swim team for, oh, about eight minutes, so believe me when I tell you I’m not what you’d call a graceful swimmer. I’d like to see video of my first day at the Rec Center because I suspect it was pretty funny. My crawl stroke only got me halfway down the lane before I came up sputtering and exhausted, sure I’d made a terrible mistake buying that 20-punch card.

My third week is in the rearview mirror today. I’ve been in the pool every weekday, but the first week doesn’t count since I didn’t know what to do or where to be. But I finally figured out what works for me.

I do a total of 38 laps, alternating two laps on my back, utilizing “snow angel” arms with full range-of-motion (thanks to my chiropractor’s voice in my head) and no kicking, and then two laps kicking while holding the floaty board thingy.

It seems to be working. I flail my arms and legs and breathe hard for forty minutes or so, which was the goal.

But it ain’t easy! When I’ve just finished lap eight and I’m staring down thirty-oh-my-goodness-I-can’t-possibly-do-thirty-more-laps, I think of what works for plowing ahead with my writing. “Bird by bird, Becky” turns into “Lap by lap” and sometimes even “Kick by kick.”

And, of course, it gets done.

I’m sometimes in the pool by myself, but when I’m not, there’s a swimmer in the lane next to me doing perfect crawl strokes up and down, up and down, barely rippling the water. And they don’t stop like I do every four laps to catch their breath.

I marvel at their pool prowess. Wishing I was better than I am. Wondering how long they’ve been at it. Did they start out accomplished? Were they on their high school swim team longer than eight minutes?

But yesterday, a woman I’ve marveled at was getting in the pool as I was getting out. She said to me, “I’ve been watching you. I’m really jealous of how easy you make your laps look. You’re so graceful and natural.”

I was shocked. And because I’ve finally learned how to take a compliment, I simply said, “thank you” and told her that I was thinking the same about her, instead of telling her all the times I’ve conked my head at the end of the pool or how I almost drowned in four feet of water that first week or the effort I must expend to dive under the lane divider to get out of the pool.

As I drove home, I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. She sees in me something I don’t quite see in myself.

It reminds me so much of writing. I know waaay more writers than I do swimmers, but it’s so obvious that we writers are on our own journey, somewhere along the path of getting those millions of words written. We might plod along, meandering on the way. We might put our head down, counting words and pages with focused concentration. We might make it look graceful, or we might look like a rabid spider monkey pounding on a keyboard.

But we get it done. And if we’re very, very lucky, we don’t conk our head too often.

I remember when I first started writing and people would compliment me. I’d pooh-pooh them, thinking and sometimes saying, “Pish, anyone can do this.” It took me a long time to realize that, no, not everyone can.

So now I’m curious. Step outside yourself and tell me something remarkable about you that someone else would notice that maybe you don’t think is all that remarkable. I know there’s something. Don’t be modest. Toot your horn a bit! What would your spouse, kids, bff, parent say to brag about you?

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49 thoughts on “Pish, Anyone Can Do This”

  1. My email tagline is scientist, writer, editor. I’ve always prided myself that I can excel in different disciplines. No, I’m not a mathematician (but I did teach college algebra), or a physicist (the ultimate scientist, IMHO), but I did have a thirty year career as a biologist and a toxicologist, then wrote an award-winning mystery series in retirement. Not too shabby. huh?

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    2. Definitely not shabby, Tom! I’ve always thought toxicology sounded so glamorous. But then again, people think writing mysteries is pretty glamorous and I know the truth about that, so ….

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    1. I’m retired from the bike due to knee issues, but from 2004 through 2008, I rode the RAIN, the Ride Across Indiana. It’s a 160 mile, one day ride across the state from the Illinois border to the Ohio border. It was always an adventure and a lot of fun!

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      2. Wow, JC! That’s impressive! When you say “one day” though, what does that mean? I have no idea how long it takes to bike 160 miles. I hope someone met you at the other end and you didn’t have to turn around to get back to your car.

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        1. Nancy and I started at 7 in the morning, Becky. We had friends in a car who would drive ahead of us. When we caught up to them (every 40 miles or so), we’d refill our water bottles and eat an energy bar or something similar. The first time I did it it took 13 hours. My best time had me finishing I about 10 hours. The super hard core riders could finish in about 7 and a half hours. A definite Tour de France vibe.

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          1. JC, at first that sounded kinda bucolic, like the bike trip hubs and I thought about doing across flat France. But tour de France sounds much harder! ha! It does sound fun, though. I’m sorry your knee told you you couldn’t do it anymore.

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    4. Liz, you might be surprised! I suspect you carry yourself differently having all that training under your … ahem … belt. It’s pretty impressive, regardless of who notices. I was surprised to find out that Bob Barker had a black belt! And, yes, if you can do that, the sky is the limit!

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  3. For some reason, this post really moved me, Becky. Maybe it’s having been at Bouchercon last week with so many writers–from internationally-renowned to just-starting-to-put-their-thoughts-on-paper. I found myself bouncing back and forth between feeling like a pretty successful author to feeling like someone who still has a loooong way to go. An emotional roller-coaster, it was. So thanks for this. It made me feel better.

    As for something about me that others might find remarkable, I guess it’s the fact that I can cook pretty much anything without a recipe (baking excluded).

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    2. Leslie, I think it’s because you and I both fall into the “anybody can do this” category. It’s not true, of course, but because it comes fairly easy for us to string sentences together, that imposter syndrome rears up every so often. I’ve been in the publishing game since 1999 or so, and I’ve always loved the image of holding one hand forward and one hand backward, asking for help and giving help along the journey.

      Some day I’d like you to come to my house, survey my fridge and pantry, and concoct some gourmet dinner that I’d never have imagined. Because I know you could!

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    2. Your daughter is very clever because you absolutely do that! You’re one of those “quiet heroes” people talk about. People who do stuff without being asked simply because you see it needs to be done AND when asked, do it immediately and perfectly without complaint or need for any acknowledgment. You’re the real deal, my dear!

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    1. Wee little half-marathons? I know we’re supposed to be taking pride in ourselves here, but I run the way Elaine danced in Seinfeld. I so admire this, Kathy!

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  7. I’m embarrassed to say that I’m stumped on my own behalf. But I LOVE reading everyone’s surprising accomplishments! What a great post, Becky. And congrats on your swimming prowess. If I swim one lap, it’s a miracle.

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    1. Oh, c’mon … Ima give you another chance. What does your mom say to her friends about you? And your daughter? And your hubs? (Maybe go ask them and report back because I can think of a handful without much effort.)

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  8. Becky, your post truly touched me. I’m not at all surprised, though, that you’ve become well-accomplished at something new you’ve put your mind to, as always. I’m not much of an all-round athlete, but surprisingly I am a strong swimmer. I was actually a lifeguard one summer in college. I chose moving on frozen water over moving through it, but…it’s something I hope I’ll always be able to do.

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    2. Aw, you’re sweet, Lisa. Lifeguards are important! I’m at the point where it’s not alarming to see two lifeguards staring at me, since I’m the only one in the pool. Gotta say, that was pretty weird, but then I began to appreciate the fact I will not drown in those four feet of water on their watch!

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      1. Becky, I’m super impressed — 38 laps! I took swimming lessons as a kid. I never developed good form, but I like to think I could keep myself from drowning. At the end of swim term, our instructor made us jump off the diving board. If we didn’t jump, he’d throw us in. (I’m sure this goes against the rules, but I never saw him get in any trouble over it). My younger sister got tossed in. It was a matter of pride to me that I jump in instead of getting thrown in. And I finally worked up the nerve. Although I did scream!

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        1. We had a pool with a high dive as well as a regular. I remember screwing up the courage to go off the high one. And you’re right! Very proud when I did it. An important milestone of childhood!

          My form is terrible too, Vickie. I was asking the lifeguard about the depth of the various pools/lanes and told him, “I *can* swim. I just don’t want to *have* to.”

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  9. Well, a couple of things come to mind. I always get compliments from friends and family because I always remember their birthdays or anniversaries. I like to be remembered, so that is why I do it. I used to walk 10-minute miles and bike 25 miles in 2 hours, but those days are long gone as I have knee issues and am going to be 75 this year. I loved doing that, but as a swimmer, I was awful. I took lessons and coaches in those days could get away with being mean. I was threatened with being thrown in at age 6 or so as I was the smallest. He made fun of me. Well, I can swim but have no form. When I was a freshman at the University of Texas, you had to pass the swimming test or take swimming as one of your PE classes. I had to jump into an Olympic sized pool (never been in one before) and swim the length of it and then back stroke back and then tread water for 5 minutes. The person administering it kept asking me if I was okay (I was 17), but I made it. Maybe I should have taken swimming to look like Esther Williams. You writers amaze me though. You are great. I love all of you chicks on the case and your books. Thank you for allowing me to be one of you all. Funny, I took my 2nd selfie, which was okay, but everyone said I looked great when I posted it.

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    1. Madeleine, that’s such a great thing to be known for! I used to be so good about sending cards and such, but then with the internet, I got lazy and so did everyone else (except you!) so now I don’t have any addresses either!

      We had a pool in the basement of our high school and I took a swim class for PE. I wonder if it was a requirement? But i remember I had to do the dead man’s float for 5 minutes fully clothed. I found it so peaceful … like being in one of those seclusion tanks. someone had to tap me on the shoulder to tell me to get out of the pool!

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  10. I love this post, Becky. Good for you for swimming every day. I find laps so terminally boring I’d probably fall asleep midway and drown.

    I ran the Boston Marathon. Once. But, like Liz, I say to myself, If I could run (and finish, on a charity number) 26.2 miles at once shot, I can do this.

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