5 August 2019 11 miles!
On August 5, 2019, I swam my longest distance ever,
11.4 miles. For this, I owe huge thanks to my coach, John Kenny--whose
combination of encouragement, humor, and no-nonsense toughness—not to mention
his multi-tasking kayaking/feeding (both of us… kayakers need their food
too!)/photography/relentless support/scolding/support (connected, really), I
was able to swim this distance.
While the Great South Bay Swim was a celebration of my
growth as a swimmer, and an indicator of how far I’d come since I first did
that swim (and took about a week or so to recover, in contrast to this year’s
swim after which I was doing an interval swim workout within a couple days), my
swim almost around Wildwood (I need a cool name for this swim; “almost around
Wildwood” seems more like the name of a bar crawl) was definitely a stretch.
I was setting out in terra (or aqua) incognito—the
goal: to swim at least 10 miles, with a stretch goal of 15 (full
circumnavigation). Unlike the Great South Bay Swim, this was not a race. There
would be no buoys every half mile to mark the course. It was John in a kayak,
Diane swimming… and swimming and swimming, and discovering that I still needed
work on swimming a straight path. The course John set took in ocean and bay,
smooth water and chop… and dolphins.
Was I afraid? Yes! Would I back out? No! The saying is
that if your dreams don’t scare you, they’re too small. The Great South Bay was
once an “are you kidding me?” goal. I still can get nervous in the days leading
up to it, but I know the drill now. Get in the water, make sure you pass the
“gates,” feed regularly. And now that there were buoys every half mile, the job
of staying on course was much easier. I was ready to be “promoted” to the next
level.
***
We set out around 6 a.m., sun rising, calm ripples
across the water. The first steps through shallows into water deep enough for
swimming—where would they take me? Yes, around or almost around an island… but
where emotionally? Spiritually? I could only focus on the present, on stroke by
stroke. A brief moment of fear froze me as waves crashed over me in the first
inlet section (there would be another later as we circled a jetty and into the
bay).
Keep
going! John shouted. So I did. And eventually, we found calm
water. During the ocean stretch, it was a matter of, as the advice in Finding Nemo states, “just keep
swimming,” with stops for fuel. John fed me water, Gatorade, gels, protein
drink—whatever he offered, I took, although not always enough for his
satisfaction, as he’d hand back the bottle of the chosen drink. (Note to self: maybe
next time, bring Guiness. Well, okay, scratch that. Falling asleep while
swimming not conducive to gaining distance.)
The ocean was calmer than I had any right to expect—my
prayers and those of others were heard. Biggest fear was of fighting chop for 7
miles. But no, we made steady progress, and at five and a half miles, John
announced that I’d beaten my best Great South Bay Swim time, 2:40! Mother
Nature definitely in my corner—also Mother Mary. Needing to get into a
meditative place, I went through the joyful mysteries of the Rosary. Why not
joy! Swimming is a joy. Swimming that long is hard work in many respects, yet
at least some of those respects are mental. Physically, I was feeling good at
that point.
And I felt even better when John stopped me to point
out some dolphins that had been swimming near us. He spotted many more,
including a mother and baby. I saw just a few, since I was so focused on
swimming. But sometimes it’s wonderful to throw focus aside, and notice
surroundings. Later I saw a couple more dolphins.
I've heard dolphins protect people. So knowing there were
dolphins near me made me feel safe. I’ve read that when a beloved pet dies,
their spirits manifest sometimes as animals. I thought of my 18 year old cat, Woolf,
my beautiful orange tabby who died in July; had she made her presence known by
these dolphins—I saw them as my angelic visitors. Interesting article about dolphins'
interactions w humans:
https://www.independent.co.uk/.../dolphins-often-seem-to...
https://www.independent.co.uk/.../dolphins-often-seem-to...
Eventually, it was time to circle the jetty and head
back toward the bay. The easy progress I’d made was about to be interrupted, as
I was hit with waves on all sides and began to panic. Here although my hope was
to swim the whole distance without help, I accepted John’s offer to hold onto
the rescue tube and just kick. That got us through the 100 yards or so of the
most severe chop, and then (still a bit scared, but knowing this was not
supposed to be a ride around the island), I was able to let go and swim again.
I had already accepted that this wouldn’t be a pure English Channel Rules swim
(I had already held onto the kayak to take fluids, a habit John later
discouraged, but I still wanted it to be as much under my own steam as
possible.)
The bay part was both easier and harder than most of
the ocean section. I’d begun to tire, and there were so many more landmarks and
boats—one might have thought the landmarks would make things easier, but I had
to be close enough to shore to avoid the boats, but not so close as to hit the
very shallow bottom near the marshes… and had some worry I’d bump into the
bridge stanchion as we started under (fortunately, I didn’t). So it was more of
a puzzle to solve. Well, I shouldn’t have minded that. John had given me a
crossword puzzle to solve the day before! Wasn’t I one who liked puzzles!?
And on the subject of puzzles, often in a marathon
swim, a swimmer is asked questions to ensure she is still with it mentally.
John’s questions proved unique. “What caused the fall of the Roman Empire.” I
suspect that “Geez, John, I didn’t study that one before we left!” wasn’t
correct, but at least indication that I was in my right mind enough to protest
that I wasn’t ready for a history question. Later, he asked why writers added
two spaces after a period. This was closer to my area of interest. However, I
didn’t have the energy to explain that nowadays typesetters don’t add the extra
space, because it’s more costly. I had to wait until the car ride home to share
that piece of information. Some folks test a swimmer’s mental state with
simpler questions—I was once asked my phone number, although I have to admit I
wondered why the person needed my phone number just then as neither of us had
our phones with us—but John prefers conundrums. Still, these are entertaining
in their own way. It takes some imagination to think up the out of the way
questions he comes up with. And that imagination has served him well during
masters’ practice, resulting in some interesting workouts. (That’s for another
blog entry.)
At
about 10 miles, I thought I couldn't go any further. I felt turned inside out.
I could barely lift my arms and took a short backstroke break. I was throwing
up the fluids almost as soon as I took them in. While I was still mentally
there, I wasn’t sure how long that would last if I tried for a full
circumnavigation. Knowing I’d made ten miles, I do wonder if I stopped
fighting. But stopping the swim at that point, it turned out, wasn’t an option.
John offered to take me on board the kayak, but I wanted to swim to shore, not ride. He said we were near a stopping point (another mile-ish), so I decided to hang on until then. Some miles last a very long time; this one certainly did, but it also had the cute touch of a fish jumping out of the water near me, a small fish, maybe about 6-8 inches. And I found out that I did have more swimming left in me. Not pretty (I think John will confirm that!), but something. I wonder now if I could have stuck it out and completed the circumnavigation. But the way I felt at ten miles, I didn't want the end of the swim to be a trip to the hospital. I don't believe in regrets, so I refuse to regret my decision.
John offered to take me on board the kayak, but I wanted to swim to shore, not ride. He said we were near a stopping point (another mile-ish), so I decided to hang on until then. Some miles last a very long time; this one certainly did, but it also had the cute touch of a fish jumping out of the water near me, a small fish, maybe about 6-8 inches. And I found out that I did have more swimming left in me. Not pretty (I think John will confirm that!), but something. I wonder now if I could have stuck it out and completed the circumnavigation. But the way I felt at ten miles, I didn't want the end of the swim to be a trip to the hospital. I don't believe in regrets, so I refuse to regret my decision.
Full Circle
While
I didn’t make a full circle around the island, I did, in a sense, add this
distance first (first double-digit swim) to two other firsts, all three in the
same general location. My first open
water mile race took place in Sunset Lake, Wildwood Crest, in 2002, the
September Splash, now no longer held. While I’d learned to swim in the Great
South Bay, a shallow bay similar to conditions in Sunset Lake, I’d never done
an open water mile until that race. I’d no idea what to expect. A runner for
the most part at the time, I had an injury that kept me out of action. To stay
in shape, I swam, not very fast and without much technique, but gradually
working my way to swimming a mile all freestyle and under 45 minutes, as that
was the previous year’s last place time. After finishing that race and not even
in last place, I’d wanted then and there to pursue swimming, but the running
injury was beginning to heal, and so swimming got put on the back burner.
A
few years later, in 2005, I joined a masters’ swim group, largely out of
curiosity (no running injury this time, just wanted to try a new, revved up
form of swimming, taking in interval training and a coach who could give me
feedback). The coach urged me at the time to enter a one-mile ocean swim, the also
defunct Plunge for Patients on the ocean side of Wildwood. Ocean swim? No way!
Except that I ended up doing just that. Story here: http://initforthelongrun.blogspot.com/2005/06/
And on Monday, there I was, ready for a new first. I hope it will
be the first of many more!
***
Again,
this was not done by Channel rules. Besides holding the kayak for feeds and
accepting the tow through the chop near the jetty, I accepted John’s help
getting up at the end and out of the water. I also stood at a couple points. But
the swimming and swimming and swimming....arms and shoulders feel it all!
Altogether, I think of myself not as a full-fledged marathon swimmer but as a marathon swimmer in training. I still have much to learn, and I'm humbled by the many achievements I read about online. I'm a newbie compared to so many who have completed Triple Crowns, Oceans Seven, and other hugely impressive swims, all abiding by Channel rules.
Altogether, I think of myself not as a full-fledged marathon swimmer but as a marathon swimmer in training. I still have much to learn, and I'm humbled by the many achievements I read about online. I'm a newbie compared to so many who have completed Triple Crowns, Oceans Seven, and other hugely impressive swims, all abiding by Channel rules.
***
All that said, I remain proud of and grateful for what I was
able to accomplish.
And
I’m so, so grateful to John Kenny for his quizzes, for his endurance (kayaking
with a swimmer, especially a crooked swimming swimmer with foggy goggles, is no
easy task), and above all, for his encouragement, support—and courage. I think
we were both exploring new vistas, John designing and redesigning a route,
getting a kayak, working with friends familiar with the area, and then
including me in this grand adventure. I hope I gave him reason to be proud,
even though I didn’t quite make the circumnavigation. One adventure leads to
another though. Who knows what comes next. I never thought I could swim across
the Great South Bay. Now I’ve done twice the distance.
Embrace
possibilities!
***
A couple photos--more to come
posted by DPMcManus @ 12:55 PM
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