The End of Youth (Part 2)
While on summer vacation when I was about 40, I challenged my 18-year-old nephew to a long jump contest down a hill into shallow water. The resulting double-ankle sprain had me on all fours for the rest of the vacation, and the incident was filed in my personal history as “The End of Youth.” Whew. Tough lesson learned, you might think. Well, not so fast.
The End of Youth (Part 2)
Just a stone’s throw from that humiliation, and a scant 17 years later, I apparently needed yet another reminder that I am much closer to being a senior citizen than I am to the fictional youth that lives in my head. I also needed a reminder of the “set the bar low” philosophy of Coaching and Coffee Talks. That wisdom would have served me well.
I had the opportunity to go water skiing. I hadn’t been in 15 years, but was 100% convinced it was just like riding a bike. In my youth I fancied myself a hot dog skier–slaloming around buoys on a course laid out by other hot-doggers, jumping wakes–even starting standing up in shallow water–effortlessly stepping onto one ski and off I went. I was visualizing complete success. I didn’t even consider–not for one nanosecond–that I would not execute this grand return to waterskiing with style and grace.
My first thought: “Why get wet? I’ll just start on one ski sitting here on the dock, and gallantly step onto the water with the panache of Fred Astaire on the dance floor. The resulting double-forward flip into the lake hardly dented my confidence. Surely it was the boat driver’s fault–hitting the throttle way too hard for anyone to successfully manage a start like this–I’m lucky I didn’t dislocate both arms.
What came next was seven attempts to get up on one ski from the water–something I have done many hundreds of times. In fact, I thought to myself as I blew lake water out of my nose, I don’t remember when the last time was that I couldn’t get up like this. I was experiencing a total lack of stability on the one ski. My muscles felt plenty strong enough–but I didn’t have the sport-specific stability and balance required for skiing on one ski.
My ego had taken a bad beating–so bad that I didn’t realize what a beating my body was taking. Then came the ego-deflating call from the skipper: “Why don’t you try getting up on two skis and then drop one.” A strategy for beginners??!! This man is one of the nicest guys you could ever meet–always helpful, always smiling, always kind and thoughtful. These facts did not hinder me from immediately casting him as the villain in this story. I told myself he was hitting the throttle too hard–or too soft (whatever!) or maybe he thought this muscle-y 57-year-old needed to be knocked down a few pegs. “Ha! Take that–Muscle Man!”
“Uh, yeah–good idea,” I humbly replied, and up I went on two skis–blind to what a victory this was and unable to even enjoy myself–my fragile male ego laser-focused on the ski drop and my final victory laps through the lake on one ski. Ok–here we go <<drop>> front triple flip into the water. Ouch. Now I am aware that I am tired, and that my ribs hurt. Hitting the water at full speed is no joke. I no longer can visualize success, but continue for three more tries at this–tumbling onto the hard surface of the water more dramatically with each successive attempt. In fact. I am holding onto the tow line for longer and longer, even though I have already fallen–skidding along the surface like an insane Superman who believes he can turn back time and right himself if he only focuses his iron-clad will strongly enough–but no. Another Mike Tyson water punch in the ribs, another nose full of water, some more trembling in arms and legs, and pain while breathing. I wave the white flag. “Ok, I’m done.”
As I sit here writing this a week-and-a-half later, I have dark bruising across the right side of my chest, ribs, and waist. I still can’t sleep on my right side, and have most certainly slightly fractured my ribs.
Lessons Learned (I hope–please learn from my mistakes)
Follow your own coaching advice–set the bar low–go slowly and build up consistently over time. Going on two skis until I felt really solid would have been smart. Waterskiing takes some sport-specific strength, stability, and balance that can’t be trained on land.
Appreciate being able to get up on two skis–it was a beautiful day–the sun, the water, the thrill (all lost on me).
Have respect for a 15-year absence from doing an activity–especially when the absence covers years like aged 42-57. Those are very different years than, say, 15-30 (which still is a tough jump).
Don’t be so hard on yourself (a common theme for me). Celebrate the things you can still do–and don’t focus on the things you can’t do. If you want to work on something–take it slow and be consistent over time.
The End of Youth has occurred. (Again). Be careful with yourself. You’ve survived a lot. Try to keep surviving.
So, if you are tempted to jump into an activity that you did as a youth–be careful. Learn from someone that has a hard time learning.
Until next time
Scott & Lennart