So, I've done it again... detached my retina (other eye this time) requiring emergency eye surgery and 6-8 weeks out of the water. My surgeon is one of the best, and I'm healing faster than any of his other patients. But, he's never met anyone with such a compulsive need to get back on a diving board.
Okay, I admit it, I have an addiction. I've only been in drydock for eight days now and I'm already suffering withdrawal symptoms. Even as I write this, I'm sitting on the end of a springboard, the magical smell of chlorinated pool water calling to me from just a few feet below. I've developed a bizarre bond with this 16-foot long piece of aluminum and magnesium alloy.
Keep in mind it's only been about eight days... still, I just couldn't resist slipping off my sandals and at least standing on the board. There's a connection that happens when my feet make contact with that roughly textured surface. The board and diver become one entity as it responds reflexively to even the subtlest movements. I'm totally at home on a springboard, so much so that I prefer it to terra firma. It's kind of like the feeling sailors experience when they return to dry land after weeks at sea; the world doesn't feel right unless it's bouncing underneath me.
I know I'm still under doctor's orders for no bouncing, flipping, or pool water for several more weeks, but a little "walking" down the board can't hurt, right? I'm crazy not stupid, so I'll be good and follow instructions for the time being... but, this is quite honestly agonizing.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Drydock
I'm writing this while perched at the end of a 3-meter diving board. Why am I perched here rather than flipping and twisting my way into the water below? Well, I've been drydocked for the past month and it's driving me absolutely crazy.
What could possibly keep me out of the water for 6 weeks? It took a pretty substantial event to land me in drydock. That event came in the form of emergency eye surgery on May 9th to repair a partially detached retina. I awoke one morning to find a small "hole" in my left field of vision. Thinking I had scratched my eye somehow, I made an appointment with my eye doctor for that afternoon. Little did I know that within a few hours I would be signing paperwork for surgery the next morning.
Now the first thing everyone assumes when they hear this story is that my retina must have started to detach because of my diving. That was my first question, too. Fortunately, my surgeon has assured me that there was nothing I did to cause the problem and diving had nothing to do with it. That said, I've been stuck on the pool deck until my eye finishes healing; not so much because of the spinning and impact forces associated with diving, but to avoid infection and allow the healing process to complete without complication. Remarkably, I'm healing faster than expected... faster than anybody my doctor has seen before.
I'm ready to dive again, my body says I'm ready and I'm already back to throwing flips on trampoline. I want back in the water so badly I can taste it, but alas there's still at least one more week of drydock in my future. I had a glimmer of hope a few weeks ago when the doctor said I could return to the water sooner than he expected... but, by "return to the water" he meant "get into the pool" not "hurl myself through space and hit the water head first from 15 feet in the air." My only consolation is knowing that I can't really return to the springboard until I can get a contact lens back into my left eye... it helps to see where you're going when heading down a diving board and spinning into the pool. My next appointment is June 24th and I'm hoping that my eye is healed enough to stick a contact in and hit the boards.
Until then, I've embraced my role as a diving coach at the Rose Bowl and look forward to my imminent return to the water. With any luck, I'll be submerged again very soon.
What could possibly keep me out of the water for 6 weeks? It took a pretty substantial event to land me in drydock. That event came in the form of emergency eye surgery on May 9th to repair a partially detached retina. I awoke one morning to find a small "hole" in my left field of vision. Thinking I had scratched my eye somehow, I made an appointment with my eye doctor for that afternoon. Little did I know that within a few hours I would be signing paperwork for surgery the next morning.
Now the first thing everyone assumes when they hear this story is that my retina must have started to detach because of my diving. That was my first question, too. Fortunately, my surgeon has assured me that there was nothing I did to cause the problem and diving had nothing to do with it. That said, I've been stuck on the pool deck until my eye finishes healing; not so much because of the spinning and impact forces associated with diving, but to avoid infection and allow the healing process to complete without complication. Remarkably, I'm healing faster than expected... faster than anybody my doctor has seen before.
I'm ready to dive again, my body says I'm ready and I'm already back to throwing flips on trampoline. I want back in the water so badly I can taste it, but alas there's still at least one more week of drydock in my future. I had a glimmer of hope a few weeks ago when the doctor said I could return to the water sooner than he expected... but, by "return to the water" he meant "get into the pool" not "hurl myself through space and hit the water head first from 15 feet in the air." My only consolation is knowing that I can't really return to the springboard until I can get a contact lens back into my left eye... it helps to see where you're going when heading down a diving board and spinning into the pool. My next appointment is June 24th and I'm hoping that my eye is healed enough to stick a contact in and hit the boards.
Until then, I've embraced my role as a diving coach at the Rose Bowl and look forward to my imminent return to the water. With any luck, I'll be submerged again very soon.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
a'leau
I was a few minutes early for my chiropractor appointment. While waiting in the reception area for the doctor to see me, my phone rang. Since it was a close friend, I answered the call with a casual "Hello"... which I colloquially pronounce "ah-low" ...at which point my chiropractor (who happens to be French) walks into the reception area with a chuckle. He said he couldn't imagine anyone having a more appropriate pronunciation of "Hello." My colloquial "Hello" sounds exactly like the French "a'leau" (meaning: "in water")!
I guess I've just got water on the brain; it subconsciously influences even my most basic activities. Who would have thought that a simple greeting I use dozens of times every day is actually subtly revealing such an integral part of who I am as a person. So the next time I answer your call with a friendly "a'leau," you'll know that I'm really sharing much more than an obligatory greeting; I'm sharing a part of my world with you.
I guess I've just got water on the brain; it subconsciously influences even my most basic activities. Who would have thought that a simple greeting I use dozens of times every day is actually subtly revealing such an integral part of who I am as a person. So the next time I answer your call with a friendly "a'leau," you'll know that I'm really sharing much more than an obligatory greeting; I'm sharing a part of my world with you.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
It may as well be snowing...
Imagine for a moment... the sun set about an hour ago, it's 47 degrees outside, it's pouring rain, and there's a cold breeze picking up. All-in-all, it's not a pleasant evening... the kind of night when most sane folks would be curled up on a couch with a good book or watching television. Now imagine standing on a 14-inch-wide piece of aluminum, 10 feet above an outdoor pool, wearing nothing but a speedo... about to launch into the air, spinning and twisting toward the water below.
It's really a very surreal experience. Visible steam rises from your body, taking with it whatever warmth may have remained. A cloud swirls over the surface of the pool, partially obscuring the water's surface. You're slowly freezing into a human popsicle, waiting patiently for a signal to go ahead with the dive. There's a jacuzzi on the pool deck, but even that apparent sanctuary comes at a price... it's just that much more dramatic a temperature change when getting out.
This is my first winter diving here in Southern California and it's not exactly what I imagined it would be. While standing there, poised for take-off and shivering, one has a brief moment to question the sanity of the situation. Why am I here?? Most people know I don't do well in the cold, I just wasn't built for it: 16o pounds and 6.5% body fat don't exactly equate to much insulation. But, night after night, regardless of the weather, I still find myself drawn to the pool like a mosquito to a bug zapper. Though I may hesitate to lose the jacket and sweatpants each evening, it doesn't take much convincing to have me on a board, wiping the rain from my eyes and praying that the pool is as warm as it should be. After all, one can't let the 12-year-old kids on the team think you can't handle a little rain, wind, and arctic chill... on an average winter night, we'll have 10-12 divers in the pool, sometimes more!
Diving in this "mildly inclement" weather, I've discovered a few things about myself that I had no reason to know before... most importantly: 45-degrees (47-degrees, if it's raining) is the lowest temperature at which I will still strip down to a speedo and throw myself off a springboard. On nights like that, I have about 45 seconds to a minute before I have to be back in the water. Any colder, and I'm happy to stand there in the rain coaching, but at least I've got a jacket and an umbrella to ward off the impending ice age. I've also discovered that I tend not to over-analyze things when my brain is icing over. I used to get a little freaked out when diving on the 3-meter boards... but, when icy rain is pelting you in the face and your body is slowly turning blue, one tends to stop caring about petty details like how high off the ground the board is.
Anywho, I just thought you might enjoy a rather unique perspective on the weather here in Los Angeles these past few weeks. Tonight was one of those nights that found me standing on a 3-meter springboard, praying for warm water. There have been a few nice days here and there and we even hit 80-degrees a few weeks ago. But, it's these cold, rainy spells that tend to lodge themselves into memory. I'm looking forward to the rest of this week and the 75-degrees we've been promised... though it's supposed to start raining again on the weekend.
It's really a very surreal experience. Visible steam rises from your body, taking with it whatever warmth may have remained. A cloud swirls over the surface of the pool, partially obscuring the water's surface. You're slowly freezing into a human popsicle, waiting patiently for a signal to go ahead with the dive. There's a jacuzzi on the pool deck, but even that apparent sanctuary comes at a price... it's just that much more dramatic a temperature change when getting out.
This is my first winter diving here in Southern California and it's not exactly what I imagined it would be. While standing there, poised for take-off and shivering, one has a brief moment to question the sanity of the situation. Why am I here?? Most people know I don't do well in the cold, I just wasn't built for it: 16o pounds and 6.5% body fat don't exactly equate to much insulation. But, night after night, regardless of the weather, I still find myself drawn to the pool like a mosquito to a bug zapper. Though I may hesitate to lose the jacket and sweatpants each evening, it doesn't take much convincing to have me on a board, wiping the rain from my eyes and praying that the pool is as warm as it should be. After all, one can't let the 12-year-old kids on the team think you can't handle a little rain, wind, and arctic chill... on an average winter night, we'll have 10-12 divers in the pool, sometimes more!
Diving in this "mildly inclement" weather, I've discovered a few things about myself that I had no reason to know before... most importantly: 45-degrees (47-degrees, if it's raining) is the lowest temperature at which I will still strip down to a speedo and throw myself off a springboard. On nights like that, I have about 45 seconds to a minute before I have to be back in the water. Any colder, and I'm happy to stand there in the rain coaching, but at least I've got a jacket and an umbrella to ward off the impending ice age. I've also discovered that I tend not to over-analyze things when my brain is icing over. I used to get a little freaked out when diving on the 3-meter boards... but, when icy rain is pelting you in the face and your body is slowly turning blue, one tends to stop caring about petty details like how high off the ground the board is.
Anywho, I just thought you might enjoy a rather unique perspective on the weather here in Los Angeles these past few weeks. Tonight was one of those nights that found me standing on a 3-meter springboard, praying for warm water. There have been a few nice days here and there and we even hit 80-degrees a few weeks ago. But, it's these cold, rainy spells that tend to lodge themselves into memory. I'm looking forward to the rest of this week and the 75-degrees we've been promised... though it's supposed to start raining again on the weekend.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Why Dive?
Why do I dive? People ask me this all the time: Why do I have this relentless obsession with hurling myself into the air while spinning and twisting in a determined effort to execute acrobatic maneuvers in the air before plunging through the all too quickly approach surface of the pool?
Perhaps it’s the thrill of mastering the laws of physics… the fundamental mechanics of this sometimes perilous endeavor are all based on simple principles of motion and dynamics… and perfectly planting a complex dive in exactly the place it was intended to land. There certainly is a raw thrill that comes from launching your body off the end of an aluminum springboard and, at just the right moment, throwing yourself into a high-speed spin; knowing full-well that if you lose track of your position and orientation in space the resulting smack will most likely be quite painful and even more so, quite embarrassing. Relatively speaking, there are a handful of people in this world who have the guts and the gall to attempt to defy gravity in such a manner. I think there’s a thrill-seeker in all of us. Some of us have the courage to let him out; others spend their lives secretly envious of those who can.
Perhaps it’s the magic of creating acrobatic artistry in the air... the ephemeral arcs and twists of a body twirling in space and then slipping through a liquid envelope with barely a splash. This is a sport that is judged on artistic execution as well as technical mastery. It’s more like dance than one might think… sure there are mechanics that must be mastered to enable the execution of this aerial art… but in the end, it really is that artistic grace and perfect form that scores a 10 over a 6. We all long to express ourselves artistically; and to develop an ability that enables the body itself to bring art into being, even if only in the brief span of time between leaving the board and breaking the water’s surface, surely that's a reason to take the plunge.
Of course, there’s also the bragging rights that come with possessing a skill set that so few can ever hope to have. What diver can resist throwing a perfect inward double or reverse one-and-a-half at a public pool, returning to the surface with a smile to find their friends’ mouths agape and a dozen lifeguards ready poised for a rescue. There’s just something irresistible about showing off what you’ve invested so much time, energy, and aspirin to be able to do. Sure it’s taken years to get to that point, but once you’re there, there’s no sense holding back. How many other people do you know, divers aside, who can flip and twist in the air with calculated precision and land without a splash in a pool of water ten feet below? It’s an unquestionably cool feeling when little kids stop to stare as you practice flips on a trampoline and their parents ask if you’ve ever been hurt. Most folks only dream of being able to try something like that and for you its just part of a daily routine.
But, there’s more to this than technical mastery or artistic expression or even showing off. There’s the undeniable sense of accomplishment that comes from an intense personal commitment to not only developing the skills needed to execute dives, but in developing oneself as a competitive athlete. A devotion to a healthy lifestyle, constant training, and the pursuit of an ever more refined and ever more complicated performance on the boards. The mental clarity and focus that’s required for most sports is even more critical here because of the complex motor skills and precision timing involved with each different dive. A diver is an athlete who is intimately aware of his balance, position, and orientation in space… a master of proprioception. Even the slightest change in trajectory or nuance in balance can generate dramatic and sometimes painful results. As such, a diver must be able to control every part of their body at all times to successfully execute any dive. To develop that kind of meticulous control is kind of like turning the body into an artistic machine that can execute complex mechanical maneuvers with grace and perfect form that result in an ephemeral work of art in motion.
So, why, at 28 years old, did I decide to dedicate myself to an athletic pursuit that is best learned at age 9? I think it’s the fantastic challenge of blending everything that I’ve mentioned together. It all has to be there to dive. There’s no question one has to be a little crazy to take up diving, especially at my age. Humans weren’t meant to flip and twist in the air. This is a sport that demands coordination, power, control, concentration, flexibility, and perfect balance… and to employ all of that at the same time and make it look easy takes dedication, patience, willingness to take risks, and a certain tolerance for pain and embarrassment. But, when you’ve accomplished that seemingly impossible task, it makes the countless hours, sore muscles, and ever-present aroma of chlorine entirely worth it. There’s also an intense freedom that comes from the need to clear my head each afternoon to focus on a single task at hand… it’s a requirement in this sport. When you’re about to send yourself hurtling toward an unforgiving plane of water, if your head isn’t in what you’re doing, you’re going to regret it.
What’s diving ever going to do for my life? Well, it may not be immediately obvious, but diving has changed my life in profound ways. For starters, I’m in better physical condition now than I’ve ever been in my entire life… with the body and muscle tone to prove it. I’m also stronger, more flexible, and far more coordinated than ever before. But, those physical changes only scratch the surface. My embrace of diving has shifted my entire approach toward life into a far more relaxed gear. I think back to the not so distant past when I was working over a hundred hours a week and traveling the world at warp speed… after more years of that lifestyle than I care to remember it almost killed me on more than one occasion. You only get one ride on this planet, so why not take control of our lives and enjoy every minute of it? I enjoy every day more now than I have since I can remember.
Diving has helped me to find the balance between work and life… I work hard, but on my own terms. I remain financially sound, but I’ve rearranged my priorities to put enjoying the day much higher on the list than it used to be. Even though I’m committed to growing a young company and pursuing my life’s work creating entertainment experiences the world hasn’t even imagined yet, you’ll still find me at the pool for four hours every single day… rain or shine, 100 degrees in the summer or 45 degrees in the winter (yes, it's an outdoor pool). Even when I’m on the road, be it in rural Iowa or central China, I make time to throw myself into whatever pool I can find. For me, diving has become my refuge from the chaos that life throws at us every day… a physically demanding yet ultimately rewarding sanctuary where I can grow as an athlete and as a person.
Perhaps it’s the thrill of mastering the laws of physics… the fundamental mechanics of this sometimes perilous endeavor are all based on simple principles of motion and dynamics… and perfectly planting a complex dive in exactly the place it was intended to land. There certainly is a raw thrill that comes from launching your body off the end of an aluminum springboard and, at just the right moment, throwing yourself into a high-speed spin; knowing full-well that if you lose track of your position and orientation in space the resulting smack will most likely be quite painful and even more so, quite embarrassing. Relatively speaking, there are a handful of people in this world who have the guts and the gall to attempt to defy gravity in such a manner. I think there’s a thrill-seeker in all of us. Some of us have the courage to let him out; others spend their lives secretly envious of those who can.
Perhaps it’s the magic of creating acrobatic artistry in the air... the ephemeral arcs and twists of a body twirling in space and then slipping through a liquid envelope with barely a splash. This is a sport that is judged on artistic execution as well as technical mastery. It’s more like dance than one might think… sure there are mechanics that must be mastered to enable the execution of this aerial art… but in the end, it really is that artistic grace and perfect form that scores a 10 over a 6. We all long to express ourselves artistically; and to develop an ability that enables the body itself to bring art into being, even if only in the brief span of time between leaving the board and breaking the water’s surface, surely that's a reason to take the plunge.
Of course, there’s also the bragging rights that come with possessing a skill set that so few can ever hope to have. What diver can resist throwing a perfect inward double or reverse one-and-a-half at a public pool, returning to the surface with a smile to find their friends’ mouths agape and a dozen lifeguards ready poised for a rescue. There’s just something irresistible about showing off what you’ve invested so much time, energy, and aspirin to be able to do. Sure it’s taken years to get to that point, but once you’re there, there’s no sense holding back. How many other people do you know, divers aside, who can flip and twist in the air with calculated precision and land without a splash in a pool of water ten feet below? It’s an unquestionably cool feeling when little kids stop to stare as you practice flips on a trampoline and their parents ask if you’ve ever been hurt. Most folks only dream of being able to try something like that and for you its just part of a daily routine.
But, there’s more to this than technical mastery or artistic expression or even showing off. There’s the undeniable sense of accomplishment that comes from an intense personal commitment to not only developing the skills needed to execute dives, but in developing oneself as a competitive athlete. A devotion to a healthy lifestyle, constant training, and the pursuit of an ever more refined and ever more complicated performance on the boards. The mental clarity and focus that’s required for most sports is even more critical here because of the complex motor skills and precision timing involved with each different dive. A diver is an athlete who is intimately aware of his balance, position, and orientation in space… a master of proprioception. Even the slightest change in trajectory or nuance in balance can generate dramatic and sometimes painful results. As such, a diver must be able to control every part of their body at all times to successfully execute any dive. To develop that kind of meticulous control is kind of like turning the body into an artistic machine that can execute complex mechanical maneuvers with grace and perfect form that result in an ephemeral work of art in motion.
So, why, at 28 years old, did I decide to dedicate myself to an athletic pursuit that is best learned at age 9? I think it’s the fantastic challenge of blending everything that I’ve mentioned together. It all has to be there to dive. There’s no question one has to be a little crazy to take up diving, especially at my age. Humans weren’t meant to flip and twist in the air. This is a sport that demands coordination, power, control, concentration, flexibility, and perfect balance… and to employ all of that at the same time and make it look easy takes dedication, patience, willingness to take risks, and a certain tolerance for pain and embarrassment. But, when you’ve accomplished that seemingly impossible task, it makes the countless hours, sore muscles, and ever-present aroma of chlorine entirely worth it. There’s also an intense freedom that comes from the need to clear my head each afternoon to focus on a single task at hand… it’s a requirement in this sport. When you’re about to send yourself hurtling toward an unforgiving plane of water, if your head isn’t in what you’re doing, you’re going to regret it.
What’s diving ever going to do for my life? Well, it may not be immediately obvious, but diving has changed my life in profound ways. For starters, I’m in better physical condition now than I’ve ever been in my entire life… with the body and muscle tone to prove it. I’m also stronger, more flexible, and far more coordinated than ever before. But, those physical changes only scratch the surface. My embrace of diving has shifted my entire approach toward life into a far more relaxed gear. I think back to the not so distant past when I was working over a hundred hours a week and traveling the world at warp speed… after more years of that lifestyle than I care to remember it almost killed me on more than one occasion. You only get one ride on this planet, so why not take control of our lives and enjoy every minute of it? I enjoy every day more now than I have since I can remember.
Diving has helped me to find the balance between work and life… I work hard, but on my own terms. I remain financially sound, but I’ve rearranged my priorities to put enjoying the day much higher on the list than it used to be. Even though I’m committed to growing a young company and pursuing my life’s work creating entertainment experiences the world hasn’t even imagined yet, you’ll still find me at the pool for four hours every single day… rain or shine, 100 degrees in the summer or 45 degrees in the winter (yes, it's an outdoor pool). Even when I’m on the road, be it in rural Iowa or central China, I make time to throw myself into whatever pool I can find. For me, diving has become my refuge from the chaos that life throws at us every day… a physically demanding yet ultimately rewarding sanctuary where I can grow as an athlete and as a person.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
