Freediving Turned Me Into A Wussy
Posted By Paul Kotik on 19 September 2005
Up until that day, I'd done most of my freediving alone, had never heard of shallow water blackout, never used a depth gauge, never wore a timer, and reckoned the best way to prepare for a day in the ocean was to drink a few extra cups of black coffee in the morning - you know, to neutralize the leftover rum in your system.
Over the next four days Dan and Tara laid out the physiological and physical concepts underlying the reborn art and science of freediving.
The open-water sessions were a revelation. I saw, for the first time, an approach to aquatics that is diametrically opposed to the heart-pounding, blood-curdling, white-knuckle, hair-raising adrenalism of my windsurfing co-conspirators. My instructors' mindset was one of. . . alert serenity. Everyone I'd ever known approached windsurfing or spearfishing as if he were going to war.
Dan and Tara were going to peace.
By the time the course ended I was reformed. Addiction is such a negative concept, isn't it ? Let us say, rather, that I had internalized the instruction and training I'd received and was very interested in doing more. I understood that I was capable of going deeper and staying down longer than I'd imagined were possible, and was willing - eager - to do what I had to do to realize my not-too-shabby potential as a freediver.
Life became a globe-trotting whirl of clinics, courses, diving, more diving, competitions, record attempts and even more diving.
Don't smoke, don't drink, dodge incoming fatty foods as if my life depended on it. Coffee ? But a distant memory. Don't even ask about smoking ! My bedtime is back to what it was when I was in grade school.
I am serene. Whatever is happening around me, my heart rate stays low and my breathing deep and regular - good thing I'm not a bachelor on the make, isn't it ? I'd never know which of the ladies turned me on. Not that it would matter. I've learned that guys who belly up to the bar and order a cranberry juice clear the room pretty fast. No more big hair for this cabellero.
Now, a year later, I am remade : a complete wussy.
All this finally struck me one day in Kona town on the Big Island of Hawai'i. I was attending a Performance Freediving clinic, and rooming with Kirk Krack, Brett LeMaster and Mandy Rae Cruickshank. Three of the coolest, baddest freedivers on the planet. My completed wussification was revealed in a dazzling epiphany, a moment when I realized that the four of us had spent fully 20 minutes reviewing and analyzing the Dairy Queen menu to determine if there was anything we could consume without breaking training. Nope. We retired to Brett's place and decanted a rare root beer, the only brand which had been found (in a previous research project) not to contain the dread caffeine. I drank water, abstaining from this intoxicating, glucose-laden tonic. I was, you see, the designated sleeper.
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