In it for the long run

I’m 71 and a virgin. This has nothing to do with my experience in love/lovemaking. That’s none of your business. 😊

However, as a newcomer to the Memphremagog Winter Swim Festival, I was dubbed a "virgin," as were all my fellow newcomers. We entered a world in which the rules of normal society were suspended, however. This event featured escorts, strippers, and hookers. “In quiet Newport, Vermont?” you ask. You might think we’d be the target of a police raid.

Not at all! This was a swim meet. Yes, in February. In Northern Vermont, where one degree Fahrenheit is considered mild if the sun is out and the wind isn’t blowing. What was I saying about normal society?

You might think “What’s a 71-year-old Philly woman doing running around with this wild crowd?” What should I do, stay home, sit in a rocking chair and talk about the good old days? If I were to do that, the good old days would get further and further away until I couldn’t see them anymore. In her poem, “Warning,” Jenny Joseph promises to “make up for the sobriety of my youth” (https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/warning/). While I wouldn’t use “sobriety” to label my youth, it seems silly to set silliness aside now, since I’ve managed to indulge in it this long.

If you’re like me (poor soul!) 😊 and you find yourself musing about a particular event, thinking “I wonder if I could do that,” the answer is that you’re in trouble, because you’re probably going to do just that.

It’s how I went from swimming a mile in a quiet protected bay to swimming an ocean mile (are you kidding? No way! Of course I’ll do it!). This necessarily led to swimming 5 miles (“no way! too long! sure I’ll do it!”) in a choppy bay while suffering from seasickness and saying, “never again” and swimming that same 5 miles seven more times—and along the way deciding that if I could swim five miles, why not eight? or ten? or eleven? The lure of “I wonder if I could do that” is always in the back of my mind!

So when I read posts on Facebook from friends who had participated in the Memphremagog Winter Swim Festival, my first thought was “too cold!” followed by …. “but maybe I could do that.” Swirling through my mind were reports of all the fun people had and how could I not join this wild, raucous adventure? Of course I’ll sign up! A few clicks and I was in the 2021 festival—which had to be virtual due to the pandemic. So fine, I’ll do the virtual event. Even with the limitations of Zoom, it was a riot, as people shared their photos and hats and cold-water adventures. Yes, keep luring me in!

Not to worry, though. Those of us who had entered for 2021 were transferred to the 2022 festival. My appetite was further whetted by participating in the Kingdom 10k Swim—also a Phil White production. I hadn’t planned on the Kingdom Swim. I had planned on going to England to join a Channel relay. However, with the pandemic (yes, again), I would have needed to arrive ten days early and add about $2500 to my stay. It seemed risky too, given the covid cases rising there, so England had to be ruled out. That being the case, fine, I’ll go to NEW England and swim 10k. It was another impulse decision that I’m glad I made and that gave me a preview of that beautiful part of the country.

Of course, I want to swim in the middle of winter when the lake is frozen, and lanes must be cut in the ice! Why do you ask?

 I swim with a Philly-based group, French Creek Racing, and with the pandemic, we took to swimming outdoors year-round. Granted the pool was heated, but getting out wet at 16 degrees at least gave me some prep. I made sure to take my time going from the deck to the locker room, pretending it was a lovely summer day. 

Oddly, my fellow swimmers were skeptical. 

To this, I added some cold showers and nightly guided Wim Hof breathing videos. Still, I admit I was nervous. Other swimmers posted footage of their training ice swims. Would my preparation be enough? Still, let the adventure begin!

From Philly to Boston via Amtrak. From Boston to Hanover via Dartmouth Coach. Meet my friend Maggie Lonergan and on to Newport. The original plan was to leave Philly Thursday, stay overnight with my brother Richard, and make the rest of the trip Friday, but with a snowstorm coming, all involved agreed that getting there Thursday before the snow started was a better choice. Further, it allowed me to sleep late, relax, eventually get ready to join Maggie for the pool ribbon cutting, watch the Sharkbait Sheilas take the inaugural dip, and then off to dinner.

It was time to get some sleep and be ready to roll in the morning! I was signed up for four events, three of which would take place Saturday.

                                            Waiting!

The first was the hat swim, an untimed swim/costume hat contest. I chose a white rabbit hat complete with bunny ears, worn over a swim cap. 

                                                GO! Frozen Hare--Newport Edition!

    

This choice because

1. My swim coach, John Kenny, put on an event on 2/25 called the Frozen Hare. Since I was going to attend this Vermont swim shindig and so wouldn’t be present for the Frozen Hare, it seemed only right to channel my team and be literally a frozen hare (well, not entirely literally—I am, after all, human).

2. Warmth. There were some immensely creative costume hats and I salute the winners of the hat contest. But a (fake) furry hat seemed a more practical choice for a newbie. According to the science, a warm hat retains heat and I needed whatever retained heat I could get.

3. Listen to the Jefferson Airplane's song "White Rabbit" to get the idea of the state of mind needed to sign up. 😀

                                                            Almost go time!

When I stepped down the small wooden ladder and into the water, my first thought was “well, it’s not as cold as I expected. I can deal with this.” Four or five strokes later: Yeah. It actually is.” Still, by then, I was committed (or some say, should be committed, which I won’t debate). That temperature, about 30ish degrees, didn’t take my breath away, really—but I felt as if I was in a slow-motion video. The water clawed its chilly way into my muscles and bones. As hard as I worked, I could feel the water’s vise grip tightening around me. “Just keep moving,” I told myself. “You WILL get there. It’s only 25 meters, even if it feels like 2500 meters.”

Oh and here’s where the escorts, the strippers, and the hookers come in—admit it, you scrolled down the page to find out! 

The escorts walked with us from the restaurant to the “pool” (i.e. swim lanes cut in ice) and, after we finished swimming, accompanied us back to the marina where we could change into dry suits/clothes. The strippers helped us remove and later put on our parkas and shoes (we were minimalist—coat over swimsuit, because the idea was to take as little time with the undressing/dressing part as possible, the sooner to finish and warm up. Hookers? This was not about exchanging cash in seedy hotel rooms. Instead, a person carrying a long stick with a hook walked alongside the lane, keeping an eye on the swimmer to ensure that s/he was safe. In case of difficulty, the hook could be used to pull the swimmer out. (It should be noted that no one needed to be pulled out, but we were all grateful that they were there watching over us.)

During the walk back, the escorts asked me questions to determine whether I was with it or about to pass out. (Fortunately, these were easy questions, such as where I was from, why I was swimming—my reason: I’m crazy, of course! These contrast with John Kenny’s approach to asking compos menti questions, such as “what caused the fall of the Ottoman Empire?”).

Apparently, they thought I was with it, conscious, etc. Once I reached the shelter of the marina, a lovely woman was there with a small tub of warm water for my feet and microwaved socks filled with rice and tied so as to place on our necks or hands. Once we warmed up enough, we could shower/change, and return to the restaurant.

My second swim, the 25m freestyle felt easier because I’d already gotten the feel of the water (cold… did I mention that it was cold?), and with freestyle, I could swim a little faster than the breaststroke I swam to keep the rabbit hat in place. But getting my face in the water? I was about halfway before I could get the nerve to do that, and only because I thought I could get to the end faster by doing so. Still, I won’t make Katie Ledecky envious—that’s all I’ll say about my form. While the first swim felt harder and the warming process easier, it was the opposite in the second race. I needed more time to warm up and was much more uncomfortable. Still, I knew that would pass, and I’d warm up and be fine—and so I was.

Between events, there was a lunch break, and I made a couple mistakes with that: 1. If you’re swimming right after lunch, maybe the shrimp basket and fries won’t be the best choice. It takes too long to get something like that, and the time to eat it was too short as a result. (But the shrimp and fries were tasty, so I won’t regret this too much!); 2. Having everything ready to go before lunch prevents unnecessary rushing and forgetting stuff after lunch.

True there was a ceremony and group picture before my afternoon event, the 50 freestyle, so I thought that would give me a little more time. The ceremony was poignant: people bought biodegradable ribbons and put the name of someone they wanted to memorialize. The ribbons were then dropped in the water. We had a moment of silence for Ukraine. The spiritual energy of this was profound.  

That said, I started the 50 free having rushed and was a little stressed as a result. Still, I thought, I’ll feel better once I swim. That lasted 25 meters. At both ends of the lanes, there are platforms that we stand on before starting to swim (those doing more than one lap started at the end closer to shore, while those doing one lap started at the end further from shore. The object was to have at least a little bit less distance to walk back to shelter). 

I felt colder than I had in the other two swims, but thought I could eke out a second lap—except bumping into the platform, along with being colder than before, startled me and suddenly, it felt too much. I needed to stop. At which point, very kind volunteers helped me out and guided me into my parka. While disappointed in myself, wishing I’d been able to finish, I was very much moved by the gentleness they showed, especially Charlotte Brynn, an exceptionally strong marathon and ice swimmer and coach. Charlotte reminded me to focus on the positive: not I didn’t finish two laps, but I did finish one lap. She also complimented me on my stroke, "so smooth!" 

When I got to the marina and realized I’d forgotten my bag with a change of clothes, she went off to retrieve it. This was above and beyond because there were several rooms in the restaurant, and although I did my best to describe the bag and its location, I wasn’t sure how articulate I was given I was still chilly. But she returned with the bag. Officially she’s an angel on earth!

That evening, over a delicious dinner, we were treated to award presentations. To my surprise, along with a few other women seventy and over, I received a generous award—thermal mugs—and we all were presented with sashes that said “Sassy 70s.” I was the “kid” in the group, having turned seventy the most recently and was in awe of these amazing role models. The other women had much more experience in winter swimming than I did, and some pretty serious marathon swims.

We newcomers or “virgins” received patches to welcome us to the winter swimming tribe.

                                                                My sash--and my beer! :) Enjoying Phil's wit!

Awards of maple syrup, “woodles” (medals made of wood), and other prizes were given to the winners of races and of the hat competition. What a variety of creative hats! I admired them all—and would have found it hard to be a judge in that contest because there were so many to whom I’d have awarded first place!

When we stepped out of the restaurant, we were treated to a fireworks display, as all of Newport was celebrating a winter festival.

Sunday promised to be busy. I had to check out, as I was going to Hingham that day. Thank you, Ted Hirsch, for offering the ride and  Phil White for putting out the email blast that secured me a ride. I was signed up for the 25 butterfly, which I seriously considered scratching, as it seemed things could get rushed. However—and another thank you to Ted for talking me into not scratching—I decided to swim after all. As Ted suggested, I wouldn’t want to leave wondering if I could have done it, and I needed a finish to make up for the DNF in the 50. After all, it was only 25 meters (ha, only! I knew by then what 25 meters in 30 degrees felt like!). I was also told if you find you need to switch to breaststroke don’t worry.

My thought: I wanted to finish alive. So after a few initial butterfly strokes with the cold stiffening me up, I shifted to breaststroke, with a couple of weak attempts at butterfly.

Once back in the marina, I noticed that my legs were brilliant hot pink—a look I wanted to preserve since the color set off my black and white suit so nicely. But no--at this writing, my legs are now their normal color. Pretty color while it lasted!

How in the world had I managed to swim 200 fly in a meet in January and 400 IM a week later when I couldn’t do fly for even a lap? I say that not from self-judgment, but from a sense of wonder at what that level of cold can do to the body. Nature is tough—marvelously tough! The 200 fly and the 400 IM were swum indoors. Say no more!

I’m no speedster, but this winter meet for me was not about speed. It was about learning, about survival, about friendships, about the generosity of so many—the volunteers, who spent hours in the cold, whereas we could go out, swim, and retreat indoors to warm up, or those who took the time to warm us up indoors, caring for us like their own children—about being vulnerable yet powerful and learning the power of nature; about our race director, Phil White, who rejoices in this celebration of swimmers and volunteers, acts as combination Master of Ceremonies, guardian of swimmer safety, stand-up comedian, and all-around good soul.

posted by DPMcManus @ 9:20 AM