Deep Breath: Learning to Freedive in Beijing

As a former competitive swimmer, I was thrilled by the thought of breath-hold diving. As an even-more-recent ex-smoker, the prospect of relying solely on my own lung capacity to descend through the water was a bit more trepidatious. Breaking the usual one-day training into three evenings, I met with Julian Lopez of Freediving China to start a process that would end at the bottom of a seven-meter pool.

ON DRY LAND
We started with a briefing on the equipment, the risks and precautions, and the process of learning to equalize – alleviating pressure on your air spaces (sinuses, ears, goggles) with the air from your chest.

Once the basics were covered, it was time to test my lungs. First of all, did I know how to breathe properly – from my diaphragm? Thanks to my previous yoga experience, the answer was yes. Then, lying flat and relaxed, I was instructed to hold my breath as long as possible. I held my nose, took in my last deep breath and prepared to wait out the clock.

I made it to one minute. Like a balloon filled to its bursting point and released, I expelled the trapped air and was free to take in a lungful of fresh oxygen. “How did your body feel at the end?” Julian asked. I was dumbstruck – who’d have thought this process would require a heightened degree of self-awareness? “I wanted to breathe” was not a sufficient answer to that question. If I wanted to push my time up, I’d need to start paying close attention to my physical reaction. Julian explained that my body wasn’t lacking oxygen but wanting to release CO₂. I’d just have to learn to live with the frightening (but pain-free) choking sensation.

For my last attempt on dry land, I signaled when I thought I could no longer hold my breath and was calmly and softly talked through another ten seconds as the struggle in my lungs moved onto my tensing body; my face scrunched, hands clenched and my feet kicked futilely against nothing as if they thought the airless chamber was surrounding me and could be broken by force. I was now up to 1:50.

ON THE SURFACE
The next phase took place in a lap pool. Floating on my stomach, I was now breathing through a snorkel and ready to test my time again. Filling with as much air as I could get in through my straw of an air tube, I dropped my breathing line on the deck, left go of the side and let my motionless body drift in the water. Shallowly submerged and cut off from outside distractions, I floated for what felt like minutes before my lungs even began their protest. Once they did, the battle between my mind and body began, lungs screaming, my mind urging relaxation, lungs having none of that, me trying to stay calm and continue. As my lungs won the war, I signaled … but I wasn’t out of the water yet. The countdown came and the numbers worked their way slowly up to ten. Coming up for air after 2:30 was like snapping out of a dream. The exhilaration from this extreme sport was the complete opposite of the adrenaline rush I’d experienced with skydiving. Jumping out of a plane was all about the external – air, sights, chute – but this apnea training was a personal meditation in a quiet, serene space while pushing but obeying your body’s boundaries.

Now that I was comfortable with resisting the urge to breathe while in a relaxed state, it was time to put the practice into actual action. Being naturally as buoyant as Styrofoam, I was weighed down by several one-kilo weights before slipping below the surface and, with steady, rhythmic strokes swam towards the end of the 17m pool before turning and making my way back on a single breath. With the addition of the dynamic element, I still had to remain calm against the CO₂ buildup but also move as minimally and efficiently as possible to maximize my oxygen “tank.” As compared with scuba divers, who use regular breathing to gain minutes more on a dive, my self-contained air was less generous. What I was pushing for was an extra meter or an additional second.

AT THE BOTTOM
The third day, I finally dived deep. By now, many of the movements were familiar: minutes of breathing, removing the snorkel, pre-equalizing on the surface and I was ready to descend. Pulling on the taut rope that anchored the buoy to the pool bottom, I headed for the tiled floor seven meters below. Two meters deep, the pressure built up. I tried to push air down from my lungs to my head. It was impossible to descend. I knew exactly what my body was saying. My diaphragm was too weak. I turned to the surface.

Over the next two and a half hours, I worked on descending, adjusting my internal pressure and swimming, or just stopping, 20 feet below the surface in an unfamiliar environment. I wasn’t diving but I was able to reach the bottom feet first (the position for new divers that can’t equalize head-first). In that uninhabitable world, I was in meditating mode and for a little under a minute enjoyed the stillness at the bottom before I knew it was time to slowly climb back to the surface.

Freediving China will be holding one-day AIDA 1 Star sessions on Oct 27-28 and Nov 3-4, 10am-5pm. Groups of four or more qualify for a 25 percent discount. For more information see freedivingchina.com.

Click here to see the October issue of the Beijinger in full.