Fitness Files: Little sister scores a victory over illness
I have to stop everything and tell about the phone conversation I had two weeks ago with my little sister, Eleanor. She is “little” in a few ways — 10 years my junior and not even 5 feet tall and 88 pounds. She tells people, “Carrie and I look alike, but Carrie’s 2 inches bigger everywhere.”
She lives in New York City with her husband, Teddy. She’s a writer and marketer and has run not-for-profit organizations. She’s also an avid master’s swimming competitor.
A Parkinson’s diagnosis seven years ago caused her to retreat from the job market but not the competitive swim team. She’d love to work, but the limitations of a chronic, progressive illness get in the way.
Continuing with swim workouts seems like insanity. Yet, she folds back the covers at 4:30 a.m. to walk through below-zero streets of Manhattan for the “fun” of jumping into a cold (since municipal cutbacks) swimming pool. Last time I asked, even the post workout showers were cold.
Swim times slowed with Parkinson’s. Once she told me she had a meltdown at practice — tears of frustration because she couldn’t lift her arms out of the water. Months later, she said, “I got my butterfly stroke back!” The point is that the Parkinson’s plays dirty tricks, but she stays in the water.
This really is the story of two people. Not just my sister but her coach. Miki is big and tough at 5 feet 8 inches, with the ample build of an open-water swimmer. The team respects Miki’s portfolio of epic swims, like the 26 miles from Catalina to Los Angeles.
“I was scared of Miki,” my sis told me. “She’s demanding. Never smiles. But she was the first coach who came up and said she was sorry about my Parkinson’s diagnosis. Turns out she’s on strong meds for psoriasis. We bonded over our situations.
“She designed workouts especially to use my deteriorating brain, work my left and right sides, fast and slow movements. Miki made sure I used more of myself — brought me into another dimension. She’s a role model.
“This summer, after I got the doctor’s OK, Miki signed me up for the July 12 Greenwich Point One Mile Swim in Connecticut…. I think she wanted to share her experience of distance swimming with me.”
And Miki will be swimming beside her. “She’s going to be my angel.”
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For about a week, Eleanor and I played phone tag. One of my sister’s recorded messages said, “I’m rarin’ and ready to go.”
At noon Sunday, I dialed my sister’s number, worrying: It was 3 p.m. New York time. Was she home yet — or already napping? What would I say if she couldn’t complete the swim?
Eleanor picked up. She sounded perky.
“How was it?” I asked.
“Went nicely. No trouble with my body.”
“That’s amazing,” I said.
“Don’t know whether it’s amazing. Water was nice, flat like a mirror.”
“How was your ‘angel?’”
“Great. Miki told me which direction to swim, warned me away from the buoys. I concentrated on swimming.”
“How was the weather?”
“Beautiful. I was having so much fun. I thanked Miki over and over. She told me, ‘Stop talking and put your head in the water.’”
Eleanor chatted on. Finally, I asked, “Did you finish?”
“Of course I finished!”
Next I asked, “You thought Miki might have to help you stand upright, after the finish line, did she?”
“No, I got out with no trouble but the crowd on the shore chanted Eleanor, Eleanor, Eleanor! Teddy rushed up and gave me kisses in front of everyone.”
My sister got a beer mug for her efforts, but I think she realized Miki’s goal with this final statement, the personal outcome of an endurance effort:
“If I can do this swim, it means I can do other things too.”
Newport Beach resident CARRIE LUGER SLAYBACK is a retired teacher who ran the Los Angeles Marathon at age 70, winning first place in her age group. Her blog is lazyracer@blogspot.com.