But, I'm sucking up the suckiness and just doing it. The first serious (as in "I meant to") open water swim of my life was on Saturday, in the lake at my parents' house. I rented a triathlon wetsuit for the occasion but forgot my cap (super lame), and went out there and totally had a near-panic attack after swimming too hard out to the middle. Breathing, moving, recovering all work differently in the open water - you get to breathing hard, it's cold so you're slightly hyperventilating, there's chop on the surface and bam! - you've inhaled a lungful of cold, murky water and there's nothing to grab onto. So that happened, it freaked me out and I was very discouraged. Luckily Julie was waiting on the dock to encourage me when I got back in and that made me feel better.
Two days later I decided that I had to get back up on that horse so today I returned to the open water. This time I met up with the Alaska Triathlon Club (for the first time) for an open water swim clinic and it was great! There were maybe 30 people there and Little Campbell Lake in Kincaid Park was marked off with clearly visible orange buoys to swim round. We went over basics like applying body glide to prevent chafing, how to quickly put on and get off wetsuits, handling the churning washing machine madness of a mass start, drafting, sighting, swimming around the buoys without getting into a jumbled mess, and then making the exit from swimming in water to running on land. Oh, and I got a couple laps round the lake in, too.
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| Image via d_seagars/Panaramio |
Little Campbell Lake during a Hammerman Triathlon
Some of triathlon training is just learning protocol, etiquette, how things are done in this world. I showed up carrying my wetsuit in a bag, I don't know why - maybe thinking I couldn't drive there in it, and possibly there'd be this time when it was officially the "put on your wetsuits now" segment. I didn't know. Upon arriving I noted that everyone mostly had or was putting theirs on standing near their cars, surfer-style (I'd parked far away so didn't get to observe this until too late). So I kinda skulked to the edge of the group and oh-so-casually dropped my pants (at least I had my swimsuit underneath) and tugged that sausage casing of a wetsuit on before rejoining the group. Didn't matter though, ultimately, after the swim everyone was changing on the lawn, drying off, pulling on dry clothes over wet speedos, chatting about their last or their next race.
Beside the swimmers, there was a canoe class in session, people fishing from shore and kids and dogs running up and down the shoreline. I won't lie, the combined effect felt not unlike adult summer camp - all we needed was someone with a clipboard and whistle directing us to the arts and crafts bungalow for the next activity while handing out chocolate milk. (Actually, chocolate milk would have been awesome.)
So, on this rainy and gray evening in the freezing ass cold water, I felt really encouraged to compare my (wonderfully average) skills with other triathletes of all levels and to see that I was going to ultimately be okay in the open water portion of the swim when it comes time to race in 40 days. That kind of mental assurance is huge. When I can get my head right that's like 85% of the way there, seriously. I'll go back each Monday and train with the team, while repeating my swimming mantra: "I'm a calm and steady swimmer who finishes strong. I'm a calm and steady swimmer who finishes strong. I'm a calm and steady swimmer who finishes strong."
It feels kinda brave to do this, and it's also quite fun, satisfying. I said later tonight that when I grow up I want to be a triathlete and an independent media producer... Wait - did I finally figure it out?!
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