Ryan Gardner/Staff photographer Allen Throop twice dropped out of his swim exercise classes after being diagnosed with ALS, but instructor Rhonda Flatz-Byers wouldn't give up on him. ‘She was totally involved with the swimmers and was never ready to quit when the class period ended,' Throop wrote.

Staying afloat

Swimming instructor Rhonda Flatz-Byers never gave up on this student

By Allen Throop
Venture contributor

CORVALLIS — "Yarmulke, yarmulke!"

The words rang out across the pool as I neared the end of my lane. I knew they were directed at me, and as I did a flip turn, I resolved to lower my head so that only a skullcap-size piece of the back of my head was above water. Perhaps if I could do this, Rhonda, the source of the loud voice, would recognize that I was making some improvement.

When I started taking swim-stroke lessons in the spring of 2002, I had no idea how important Osborn Aquatic Center and Rhonda Flatz-Byers would become in my life. Janet, my favorite wife, and I had decided to take lessons to learn more effective swim strokes. I knew that, in the 45 years since my last lesson, techniques had changed and I might have forgotten a minor point or two.

Throughout the summer and fall, we swam with Rhonda regularly. Crawl, backstroke, breaststroke and even the dreaded butterfly stroke were broken down into simple, manageable components. She got us to do them all. Ceaselessly, she would yell out instructions. I soon realized that while Rhonda could always find new areas to work on, she praised any improvements and always had a smile on her face.

Initially, my technique and efficiency improved rapidly. When I started, 30 strokes would get me from one end of the lane to the other. After getting down to about 20 strokes, I grew puzzled. My technique continued to improve but my stroke count was going the wrong way: 22, 26, back to 30.

In January 2003, a neurologist gave me the answer: ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), also called Lou Gehrig's disease. The outlook was dismal. The nerves sending messages from my brain to my muscles are dying at an unpredictable but continual rate. My arms, legs and even my throat will eventually stop working. No treatment is known. Life expectancy, although highly variable, is two to five years.

Although I wanted to remain active as long as possible, improvement was no longer an objective. Without a word to Rhonda, I dropped out of the class but continued to swim regularly. As I got slower my exercise goal slipped from a mile, to a kilometer, to half a mile, and downward.

One day, as I struggled up the steps out of the pool, Rhonda came up to me, gave me a hug, and said, "I just heard about your diagnosis." She then invited me to join one of her exercise classes, which gave a fairly vigorous water workout, appropriate for me at the time, without trying to swim laps.

Rhonda approached this class as she did the swim-stroke lessons. Her focus on the group was complete — well, almost. It's true she would let slip a few references to coaching the Philomath High School swim team, to something called "water babies," and to her two children, but still she was totally involved with the swimmers and was never ready to quit when the class period ended.

When summer came, the indoor exercise class was replaced by The Channel Challenge Class at Otter Beach, the Aquatic Center's outdoor pool. The Channel is a 4-foot-wide circular flume with water flowing through it at 4 to 5 miles per hour. The class size was larger. Participants came in all body shapes. Some people were in good condition and wanted to stay that way. Some had not exercised for years but were determined to improve. Some were pregnant and enjoyed the lighter feeling while in the water. At the beginning of the summer, walking around with or against the current was not very challenging for me, although I found that raising the Styrofoam dumbbells above my head was impossible.

Once again, this class seemed to be the center of Rhonda's life. She knew everyone's name and what they wanted to get out of the course. She worked twice as hard as we did. One moment she would be in the water doing the exercise, and the next she would be up on the deck demonstrating something new. She would maintain a steady upbeat banter ranging from why we were doing a particular movement, to what her children were doing, to why she liked the music playing in the background.

Before the end of the summer, I once again became a dropout. The long walk from the outdoor pool back to the dressing room and opening the heavy doors became challenges I did not want to confront. I switched to the warm water of the Aquatic Center's therapy pool and did exercises given to me by a physical therapist to maintain the range-of-motion of my joints. I exercised alone but switched to the family dressing room so Janet could help me change clothes and shower.

But Rhonda would not give up on me. She directed all the classes at the pool and knew the strengths of each of the instructors. She suggested that I join one of the many exercise classes for people with arthritis. I watched a group and talked to some participants. Although they were enthusiastic, I could see that more strength was required to hold the lightweight training aids than I possessed. I stuck with my own program of exercises.

Rhonda next told me about a therapeutic exercise class oriented toward those who need to maintain range-of-motion in our joints but do not have much in the way of muscle control. Since Rhonda was running the class, I signed up immediately. After the first meeting, I felt better than I had in weeks. The combination of moving my almost weightless limbs in the water and having someone else move all my joints to their limits was wonderful. I also learned that simple range-of-motion exercises can be a contact sport. For example, to keep my shoulders limber, Rhonda would place me on her knee and pull both of my shoulders, firmly but carefully, back towards her.

Since walking is now only a fond memory, good friends get me to the pool and help me in the water. The hour goes quickly. Rhonda or my helper or both of them work my limbs through a series of exercises. Although I sometimes claim to be tortured, Rhonda always seems to know the point between where pushing a joint to its limit is good and where serious pain starts. As usual, she quickly determined the needs of each of us in the class. Limbs with Parkinson's disease, joint replacements, arthritis and ALS all need exercise. Many of the exercises we do together; each of us has our special routines.

As usual, the class does not end at 9:45 as scheduled. Rhonda seems determined to move every possible body joint no matter how long it takes, although her focus changes as soon as the parent-infant pairs start to appear. Water babies is about to start! Rhonda calls out the name of each new child and her enthusiasm rises to new heights. Helping parents make their 6-month-old children comfortable around water is obviously ecstasy for Rhonda.

As a mechanical lift raises me out of the water, I have a front-row seat to watch Rhonda singing, at the top of her voice as usual, within a circle of parents and children. The huge smile on her face shows Rhonda clearly enjoying her own life as she makes life better for so many others.

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