Pride, Humility, and a Nose Plug: A Triathlon Tale

 Today’s blog theme is humility and pride. And let’s be clear: neither word is a bad word. Humility can be a graceful teacher—and sometimes a self-limiter. Pride can swell the heart with joy—or cloud our clarity when we cling too tightly to how things “should” look. Both are necessary. Both are powerful. Both, like all things, dance best in balance.

The Humbling Waters

If you’ve been following my journey, you’ll know two things:

1. I had pacemaker surgery on April 4th, after a lifelong series of cardiac events.

2. I’m athletic. (Not an “athlete” per se, but athletic—which is my pride talking, and I think that's perfectly okay!)

Over the winter, I started training for my first triathlon. I took an adult-level swim class once a week because—confession time—I had spent the first 55 years of my life plugging my nose underwater.

Yes, even though I grew up swimming in Kearney Lake in Halifax and the Atlantic Ocean near Chester, NS and despite my mother being a lifeguard and a synchronized swimmer, the real deal. That gene just didn’t fully download for me.

Enter: The Nose Plug Hero

Flash forward a few years and more than just a few kilometers inland – backyard pool memories include my young kids trying to teach me how to go under without plugging my nostrils. I hated the sensation of water up the nose with a passion that only a nose-plugged person understands.

But in swim class over this past winter, I slowly learned to freestyle—face in the water, breathing every three strokes. Anxiety still bubbled up, though. A kind classmate offered me a nose plug. I hadn’t used one since I was 14. I tried it… and loved it. It eased my anxiety and let me focus on form. Victory!

Then came the “life-quake”: the pacemaker. That meant over a month of no activity—closer to two months, actually—and no swimming.

Eventually, I donned my wetsuit and got back in the lake three weeks to begin open water training. I wasn't putting my face fully in the water, not yet. But I was surviving. I figured I’d finish my first triathlon that way and get back to the pool later for more form work.

Where Humility Meets Wet Hair and Goggled Eyes

Last night, I joined a swim clinic for the upcoming GravelMan Triathlon, which supports the Canadian Cancer Foundation (a cause near and dear). I was there, in my full wetsuit (the only one besides one other brave soul in the heat), goggles, cap, and—of course—my trusted nose plug.

We each shared what scared us. One feared fish. Another, bumping into other swimmers. My fear? Putting my face in the water.

Cue: imposter syndrome.

I mentioned my nose plug. Gently, the instructor advised me to train without it for better breath efficiency. So, I tried. I placed the nose plug in my little bin on shore, waded in… and holy waterlogged panic, it was hard.

Without the nose plug, I couldn’t keep my form. My head stayed high, which meant my legs sank. I was slow. Slower than everyone else. And my pride did not enjoy being at the back of the pack.

Pacemakers and Pace-Minding

After 45 minutes, I needed a break. I walked out of the water stood on shore, smiling, as the next round began. Michael, the instructor, was surprised as I stepped up next to him watching the swimmer. He asked if I was getting back in. I told him no—that I was honoring my body, my heart, and the process of relearning how to trust my breath.

The truth? I do fear another cardiac event, even though my pacemaker has my back (well, my chest, technically). Being in open water without the ability to fully breathe feels vulnerable.

That’s not something everyone understands—but it is something that’s real.

Carl, the kind organizer of the event I’m training for, chatted with me. He didn’t ask me to explain myself. He simply listened. Then he suggested using a front-facing swim snorkel for training and working through my anxiety. It was a lightbulb moment! I'm going to try it for training over the next week or so. I’ll still have to use my trusty nose plug for the event, so I’ll need to train with both.

And guess what? Tons of triathletes use nose plugs. I did my research. I’m not the only one. Not even close.

The Great Triathlon Pivot

I’ve decided to honor my body and reframe the goal: I’m no longer registered for the Sprint Triathlon. Instead, I’ll be doing the Super Sprint:

• 500m swim

• 10km bike

• 2km run
  

That’s doable. More than doable—it’s exciting! I’ll finish this. I might not win or place, but I’ll try it, honor it, and tick off one more beautiful box on my “someday” list.

What Yoga Teaches Us About Pride and Humility

In yoga philosophy, pride (mada) and humility (vinaya) are both considered aspects of ego—the inner narrator that tries to protect or prove us. Humility doesn’t mean shrinking. It means knowing your truth without needing to shout it. Pride isn’t always vanity—it can also be self-recognition, a thank-you to your own body for showing up. But both, in excess, can keep us out of balance. Yoga reminds us to sit in the space between them: curious, courageous, and kind.

A Little Wisdom, A Few Tips

I’ve learned a few bits of wisdom from my experience last night:

• In most triathlons, the swim is the greatest anxiety point—even for seasoned athletes!

• There are thousands of triathletes with pacemakers, ICDs, or other heart devices.

• The Cardiac Athletes community is global, vibrant, and full of supportive stories.

🏊‍♀️ Tips for Rebuilding Swim Confidence

• Try a pool snorkel like the Finis Swimmer’s Snorkel. It lets you breathe calmly and focus on form.

• Alternate between freestyle and breaststroke—the breaststroke gives you a visual break and keeps your breath accessible.

• Don’t ditch the nose plug if it works for you. It’s a tool, not a crutch.
  
  

Final Reflection: Pride, Humility, and Holding Both

Dear reader, wherever you are in your journey—whether it’s fitness, healing, or something deeply personal—remember:

✨ Pride helps us show up.
✨ Humility helps us stay real.
✨ Together, they teach us how to grow without losing ourselves.

And when you feel like the only one struggling, reach out. There’s a world full of quiet champions out there—some swimming with snorkels, some smiling on the shore, some writing blogs on a Thursday morning sharing their truth.

Namaste, and have a great week.
—Kris