tight, deep and crystal clear
k, k's mom and myself made our way out to the lake around 8am such that k could get a mile swim in, the ironman being less than 48 hours away. i figured that i could use some exercise myself, and brought my swim gear in hopes of doing some swimming of my own.
before we left the house, mich got word of our plans, including my own. "huh," she quizzed. coming back from her room, she tosses a black cap at me: "you'll need this." once i figured out its proper orientation, i snapped the neoprene swim cap around my chin and over my head. "this seems like overkill," i thought--why, i'm a hardened vet of the 68-degree waters of barton springs and deep eddy! i threw it in my bag.
upon arriving at the lake, k proceed to change into her swim gear: a sleeved, full length, jet-black wetsuit. very similar to the hundreds of other jet-black wetsuits being worn by everyone around me. i thought of my swim gear: a $5 pair of spandex shorts i bought at target.
i started to feel out of place, and i haven't even changed clothes yet. i walked to the choppy edge of the water. it was cold. 63 degrees cold. i looked along the shoreline at all the other jet-black swimmers and thought "who will be more likely to need emergency medical assistance this morning--all those people swimming out to the middle of the lake and back, or the naked kid staying in the kiddie pool?" my hopes of getting an aquatic workout flickered.
then, a PA announcement from the ironman organizers: "interested in test driving a new wetsuit? come over to the blueseventy tent to try this year's helix models today!"
minutes later, yours truly was wearing a wetsuit for the first time ever. it slid on easy enough. once zipped, however, i felt like a loaded spring: shoulders pulled back by the rubber, chest protruding. i snapped mich's swim cap on and walked out into the water. without fear.
i dove forward.
WHOOSH! my world is thrust from a calm sunny morning to a wet swell of turbulence. the only thing i can hear through the plugs and cap is muffled swishing. my prone body is whipped around like a bumpy airplane ride, every push coming from a different direction. my stomach got a little queasy.
but i could see straight to the bottom of the water, albeit only 4-5 feet. but it was amazingly clear. i saw a men's wristwatch at the bottom. naively, i thought: "whoa, wristwatch!" i stopped to descend, but (a) the swelling water had something else in store for me, and (b) i discovered i couldn't swim down because i'm wearing a giant lifejacket. then i thought "whoa, i'm wearing a giant lifejacket." i observed how easy it was to tread water, and realized what power this suit brought to its owner.
after 150m of warmup, i got out of the kiddie waters and went straight to the ironman start line with all the other participants. i had to get a feel for what it's like to start in a race like this. the yellow buoys led off to the center of the lake; i set a goal of getting to the first buoy and turning around.
well, i missed that buoy. i was caught in the rush of the water, the rise of the tide, and my moving forward through it was some reasonable level of confidence. 10-15 feet deep, you could still see the bottom crystal clear. a few competitors swam by me; i watched their legs underwater. the water still swelled and crashed. i learned quick that relaxing was not an option--if you wanted to swim in these waters, every stroke had to have purpose, determination. my mind became steely; my mouth got good at catching air and spitting out any water on the intake. it wasn't long before i made it to the second buoy.
open water swimming is anything but constant. imagine a running course whose elevation supernaturally changes every minute, no clue with what's to come next. imagine biking uphill where you're pulled backwards in the absence of effort. and imagine a world where the perceived rules of physics seems to be flipped on its side. the open water is somewhere in the intersection of those sensations.
i don't feel like i've done this morning any justice in this post, but my 1/3 mile swim in lake coeur d'alene was wonderful. i can't believe how far i've come. i can't believe how much i've missed out on all this time.
i like what i felt, and i'm ready for more.
k greets me upon my resurfacing. "that's some of the roughest water i've been in for a triathlon," the lifetime swimming vet said.
i peeled off my wetsuit and returned it to the tent. it's given me serious pause as to what i'd like to do in the short (and long) future.
[...]
have i mentioned that i've signed up for "advanced fitness swimmer" lessons in july at deep eddy?
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