Weaker than I thought

I started swimming a few weeks ago. I already knew how to swim; I learned it myself, but, except for a brief moment when I was a child, I had never frequented a course with an instructor.

I’m picking up new skills and movements, honing what I already knew—or that I thought I knew. And it’s a great discovery for me. I struggle with breathing coordination, but they explain that it is normal. Over time, I’ll improve this matter too.

Some lessons ago, while swimming freestyle, trying to coordinate breathing, I went winded. I stopped in breathlessness. The water made me feel overwhelmed. Disheartened. I don’t know if it’s normal or if there is a single word to describe this feeling, but I think I had, for the first time, a panic attack.

I attempted again, but was unable to complete even a short length. Therefore, I kept swimming backstroke.

To give up on trying freestyle again would have been like to do not biking after a fall. I wanted to erase the trauma without risking setting a precedent. I swam freestyle again, and I overtook my limit. So, I completed my lengths.

Now, that the event has passed, I can cherish the feeling of being weaker than I thought I was.