CALIFORNIA GIRLS

The Amazon female competitor from Tekamah - arch-rivals in any local sporting event - stepped up to the blocks. I felt myself shrink to a size smaller than I already was. Lean as whippet and skittish as hot blood filly before a race, training had required focus.

I was 16 only having learnt to swim 18 months ago. This summer was a very different one for me. It was magically filled with time and space for me to occupy with my own choices.

I could be a kid.

Joining the swim team was something I chose. My coach was lean like me but had acquired layers of athletic conditioning. His was name was Galen, a fabulous ancient name for a character living in the small Midwestern culture I grew up in.

He was to become one of the most positive influences in my life.

Galen observed me shrink and motioned me away from the blocks to have a word. “Yeah she’s muscled up. Remember. Stay focused in the moment and just swim this the way you always do. Let her do her swim. You do yours.”

I nodded. There were no swim goggles. No speedos or caps to slick up the race. 400 metres individual medley. My shoulders had burnt and blistered more than once in the scorching midday sun during weeks of training. Now they either had scabs on them or large patches of white skin where the scabs had come off.

What were all those California Girls doing? The Beach Boys hit was one I liked to swim to in my head. Someday. The ocean was waiting for me.

Whatever. I stepped up to the blocks and nodded to Amazon girl. She stared into my Soul. “The West Coast has the sunshine and the girls all get so tan...”

The DJ living in my head began playing the #1 hit just for this swim. 100m butterfly 100m backstroke. 100m breaststroke. 100m freestyle. It’s all in the turns.

Just swim. Galen's melodic voice echoed in between the Beach Boys equally melodic tune.

I hit the water. Finishing the 400 metres I expected to see Amazon girl towelling off her lioness hair calmly waiting for me to get it over. But there she was - still in the water turning at the other end of the pool.

Galen all sunglasses, whistle and clipboard nodded from the side. Lips smeared in white zinc his smile appeared even more white. His tan was a collection of freckles. His skin like his name was Gaelic.

He stepped forward and called to me. “You did it Mary!”

I wish they all could be California…….

I wish they all could be California…….

I wish they all could be California Giirrlls……

He held up his stopwatch and the smile got wider. I switched off the Beach Boys to hear him. “Yeah, I guess I did.” I replied.

“Look!” he put the stopwatch under my nose. “You made it again! The Junior Olympic times for that event.”

So how had this miniature dynamo coach changed my life? Far more than the achievement of Junior Olympic times for a skinny girl from a small Midwestern town.

He was my coach for the 360 degrees of my summer. The water was something I had to conquer. To win I had to be seen. There had been many reasons for me to remain invisible, but here I was on another platform.

Galen showed me how to find the rhythm of my breath. Through his coaching I learned the gift of creative positive visualization. Before a diving event we would crack the spectators up by going through the dive on shore gyrating and going through a dialogue of movement sequences and how that felt in my body.

After any event heads together, we put it on rewind to check the strengths and build up the weaknesses. But that’s just it. He showed me how to crack my own shell and Just do it (Before Adidas trademarked it)

It was 1965 and he was an innovator. The real gift is that Galen saw me. I learned that swimming and diving were not blue-ribbon events but the sensation inside myself of having nailed it. Self fulfilment.

Plus, the wisdom that every swim was just that. A swim. The goal was to swim the distance and to do it however you could that day. At the finish you got out of the water, and it was done.

No shame jobs. No if onlys.

The next swim would appear to be different, but the challenge was always the same because I was the one swimming it.

There were monsters in my closet that had kept me invisible. As a coach Galen had shown me how to allow the monsters to stay quiet in the closet. To be a kid.

Living in the moment. Breath. Rhythm. Vision. Inclusion. TLC. Laughter.

He modelled quiet strength. His name means tranquil. Somehow it found its way inside me too.

Healing and wellness is multi-dimensional. Most of us recognise that. It maybe that pill that stops the pain. Or the meditation. Or a rewiring of our very plastic circuits that accept remodelling though the scars may remain.

Without the solid ground of support and that moment of self realization how ever miniscule that becomes a palpable sensation inside the body it's hard to find. It is the foundation of what I do.