Pulling the Cobwebs From My Brain

There is a difference in how my brain functions on the days I work out versus the days I don't. When I work out, I am clear—wide awake, rapidly-processing information. On the days I don't work out, I am foggy—lumbering along, poorly-processing anything. I feel like I have cobwebs entangled in my brain. Do you ever feel this way?

Now, I’ve been told I have an overactive imagination. (I try to take that as a compliment, but that can be tough. They say “overactive imagination.” I hear “over-reactive irritation.”) Perhaps that seed was planted when I was a child. Grown-ups said this to me—a reprimand if you will—as if it were a bad thing.

Now I find that my imagination can take me anywhere and help me through any circumstances. Do you remember the scene in the Ronald Dahl book, James and the Giant Peach, in which they lasso sea birds to help the peach along its journey? Kind of like that.

Once I was competing in an open-water swimming event in the San Francisco Bay. It was a cross channel event, and the tides were particularly rough that year. They swept most of the swimmers north of the finish line—or boats picked them up and repositioned them. I was swimming as hard as I could, but every time I breathed to my left, I could tell I wasn't making much progress. Each time I breathed to the right, I could see the kayaker and inflatable pilot talking about repositioning me.

Trouble to the left, trouble to the right. What’s a girl to do?

I was running out of time to make this swim on my own and something needed to change. Like, immediately.

The day was sublime: a sparkling San Francisco day, with sliver and azure shining skies. The water was cold and slightly-ruffled by the light breeze. I was swimming, head down, arms pulling feet kicking slightly...just enough to keep my body flat in the water.

“Pull, glide, breathe, live-like-you-mean-it. Pull, glide, breathe, live-like-you-mean-it.” was my internal mantra.

We were swimming from Treasure Island to the San Francisco waterfront, and I had only made it half way across the channel when I ran into the back eddy that was pushing swimmers north.

I knew I needed more than I had to finish this swim. The seagulls and pelicans were out in abundance, flying over the water. Remember the “Giant Peach” reference? Well, I took a tendril from my mind and lassoed a seagull and a Pelican, and their soaring, effortless flight pulled me towards shore.

When another one would fly close, I’d add her to my team. When ones that were pulling me veered off, I let them go about their way—grateful for the lift they had provided.

That day, I swam all the way across the Bay, pulling along by seabirds and my imagination.

I use that trick a lot. Sometimes I pretend the headwind while on my bike into is parting in front of me—and then curling around and pushing me.

Remember when you first learned to ride a bike, lost in that mash-up of panic and thrill and fear and delight? When you were sure you could only stay upright if your parents held you up? Then, as if by magic, you looked back and realized you had ridden away without them. It’s such a powerful metaphor for life, isn’t it? We break through when we break free—of our fear.

I tap into the idea that I can do impossible things, incrementally. With a little shift, I like to take the word “Impossible” and shift it to: “I’m Possible.” Like anyone, all I need is a little help.

Sometimes that help is the wind, or birds or your friends. If you live life like you mean it, take some chances, try something new—and you might spark your overactive imagination and do something extraordinary.

You do it all the time. Recognize it. Acknowledge it. Dream it. Do it.

Be the Peach. Because I am here to tell you: you are amazing.