Feel the fear: lessons from scuba-diving

For much of my life, I worked off the basis that "winners never quit, and quitters never win". It brought me a lot of success in many ways, because most of the time my physical, mental and emotional reserves were greater than the task at hand. I could, in fact, keep up with the boys on a hike with my feet in tatters. I could be close to the top of the class and play two instruments to a high standard. But, a sizeable minority of times, I over-estimated my own strength and collapsed in a heap of exhaustion, made worse by my own recriminations for not being good enough to meet some arbitrary, outside standard.

In late 2009, I went scuba-diving in the Caribbean. I'd been interested ever since regretting not taking up the "Try Scuba" course on offer in Egypt in 2001. Let's bear in mind that while I'm an OK swimmer, my base stamina is pretty poor unless I'm in training for something. Also, I hate having my face in the water. Also, I'm terrified, in an unspeakably primal way, of drowning. Why scuba? Because it's a challenge. Because there's a while world of nature to explore which rarely sees signs of humanity. Because for all I hate getting my face wet, I love being in the water. (I outlined this post while in the bath!)

So I signed up for a scuba session while cruising around the Caribbean. Warm water, gentle waves, pretty fish...what more could you want?

A couple of days before, I went snorkelling for the first time in years. It was ok. I actually enjoyed it by the end, after a couple of hours finning around at my own pace. I now realise my latent tension caused the mouthpiece to give me an ulcer, which is important later.

So the scuba course starts, and I'm quickly separated off for some personal hand-holding for this whole breathing-under-water lark. But I can do it, I rejoin the group, we swim away from the shore, see a ray, some coral formations and several schools of fish. So far, so good.

On the boat out to the dive site we find out it's a wreck dive. Absolutely awesome! And not something I'd thought you could even get close to without at least the basic qualification. I'm pleasantly surprised to discover I'm not seasick and have acclimatised after 2 weeks on the cruise ship. We descend down a line, me following someone with ear problems because it's a nice, slow pace. At the point we're to leave the line and swim openly, I freeze. I'm acutely aware of what feels like a hole being worn through my cheek. The obvious solution is to spit the regulator supplying me with oxygen out, yet that's clearly a dumb idea too. A slightly panicked exchange with the guide later, during which time she does remove and check my regulator (eeeek!) she agrees to take me back to the surface. As soon as I step over the back of the boat I'm hit with wave after wave nausea that none of my usual techniques touches. A seasickness pill doesn't help and I spend the 2 hours of the dive and return to shore trying not to throw up.

The pill didn't help, of course, because it wasn't seasickness. It was pure and simple gut-wrenching (in the most literal sense) terror.

Despite that, I consider the dive a success. I felt my fear, I did it anyway, and quit while I was ahead. I did not break myself, and I did not put my own life or anyone else's at risk.

And you know what? I still want to learn to scuba-dive one day. A 5 day intensive course is not the right route for me, but in slower time I can do it. At the point where I have time, money and a hot climate available, I will.

And the most valuable lesson I have learned from this (and have good cause to apply elsewhere right now)? It's ok to not succeed. It's good to know your limits, so you can extend them gradually rather than busting them - and you! - wide open out of impatience, stubbornness or pride. I've been guilty of all three in the past, but I'm choosing not to be again.

Challenge yourself. Stretch yourself. And always leave a harder challenge for next time!