July 4, 2013

About 12 hours prior to the start of the Martha Lake race on July 4th, I was cursing under my breath that I had decided to pick this day to do my first ever open water swim race. Back in October 2012, I had made a decision that I did not want to live the rest of my life being afraid of swimming, and after going to the Ironspeed Camp in Maui this March, the trip helped me take the initiative to start training for a sprint triathlon. The hurdle I needed to overcome was to successfully get in the water, swim the distance, and finish. There was no time goal, and no requirement that I use any particular swim stroke other than the one that would make me the most comfortable in the water. Just about any finish that did not involve dizziness, vomiting, a panic attack, or major discomfort would be acceptable.

Some people around me know that I am rather terrified of being in water period, after nearly drowning to death when a neighbor kid submerged me as a joke when I was very young. If it wasn’t for my brother, I would have died.  For almost 40 years, I have lived with the fear of being in water, and more importantly, the terror of leaving the shore. It’s not really the depth that scares me, but the idea that leaving shore means you may be alone where no one will see you drown. From my childhood experience, I know first hand that people drown slowly and painfully, not quickly. There is awareness of one’s death, and it is painful. In earlier attempts to get over my fear of the water,  I’ve surfed in three locations around the world, floated in the Dead Sea (Israel), floated in the Mediterranean Sea last year (Cinque Terre), and have surfed in Costa Rica and Hawaii. I have also taken sailing lessons so that I can operate a 30 ft keel boat in daytime sails up to 15 knots. Surfing feels different, like having a piece of land under your feet, and as a dancer, balance on any kind of board (snowboard, skis, surf board, paddle board) is not a problem. But I had never taken swimming lessons until April of this year, and until I joined the PSC Tri Team, I had never been coached to swim in open water.

A couple of the swim practices prior to the race ranged from meh to fail; in the first case, I bailed on swimming 400 yards out to a buoy and back, selecting a more conservative approach: just try not to have a panic attack and learn how to float well in a wetsuit (also new to me). The last couple of weeks, I’ve been swimming at Beaver Lake, just learning a good rhythm, sight practice, and working on my very wimpy but improving stroke.

I came off an exciting week of flying to San Francisco to pick up my pair of Google Glass, spend time with friends, and flying back the next day into a day and half in the office of clients before the holiday weekend. Unfortunately, I was a bit sick on the trip and lost some weight, sleep, and my appetite, so I wasn’t feeling my best the morning of this race.

When they called up the 1/4-mile swimmers, I must say I was a bit surprised. Instead of a large pack of swimmers like the 2-mile and 1-mile groups that went before our group, the 1/2-mile group was about 20 swimmers, and the 1/4-mile group was five. Yes, you read that right: five swimmers. Immediately, the worst fear besides being in water, far from shore, crept into my brain. It was likely I’d be swimming alone, because two of the swimmers were kids under 12 with tons of swim lessons under their belt, and the other two adults were veterans.

My worst fear was about to take place, only in slow motion. I’d be swimming alone, and I’d be last.

As I took off with the four other swimmers, I realized that not only would I be swimming alone, but there would be no support in the water. The support kayakers and paddle boarders headed off to the other end of the lake to assist the other swimmers in the longer distance. I sighted a few times every so often (I’m actually a pretty straight swimmer, as it turns out), and didn’t have to worry much at all about bumping into anyone or anything — everyone was well ahead of me as Imei the Killer Xanax Turtle (my internal mascot for the morning) crawled towards the buoy that I think I could find without my contact lenses if necessary!  By the time I reached the buoy, one of the paddle boat guys decided to head towards me, and just kept an eye on me before heading off to the other end of the lake.

There were about two minutes where I decided to keep my head above water and breast stroke myself through a little of the anxiety of swimming alone. I had one flash back of the kid who drowned me until I went unconscious, and then I shook it off with a word, “Stop!” That was just to get the flash back to go away so I could concentrate on putting my face back in the water and catching my rhythm again. I noticed that when I was breathing that I had started wheezing (I have asthma, but I no longer treat it with inhalers), so I also incorporated a technique called inverse breathing that helps keep the bronchial passages open enough to sip air. Coach Covey’s recommendation to keep my kick to a minimum was really essential here; I was able to catch my rhythm, stay calm, keep the breathing passage open, and forward crawl back with just one break in the middle.

The breast stroke and side stroke moments to keep calm cost me two minutes, but it won me the confidence that I would have a good swim. A good swim was just finishing with a smile. Time 13 minutes 20 seconds. Initially, the time guy said 18 minutes, and I was disappointed. But he forgot that my group went out five minutes later than his start time. Thirteen minutes is just two minutes off my pool time for the same distance, so I had nothing to complain about, and I wasn’t tired. I know what I can do better next time to get that swim under eleven minutes. I’m excited there will be a next time! And next time, I’ll be swimming without a concussion! [that's another story for another time]