Tag Archives: open water swim

Facing My Fear Part Two-Race Day!!!

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Race Day, Montauk Might Many Sprint Triathlon

The alarm went off at 4:14am, not that I needed it, because I had been awake most of the night. I wondered if any other participants were as worked up as me.

Like most athletes, I have a specific morning routine that I follow, down to the smallest detail. I drink a cup of tea with honey, a toasted gluten free bagel with almond butter, jelly, and Chia seeds. I have to get up early enough for this to digest, so I can…ahem…leave a little of it at home, so to speak. With the race day jitters I am a frequent user of all-that-is “toilet”.

My race day equipment was packed. I had a bucket filled with towels, a plastic garbage bag, bike and running shoes, socks, extra water bottles, 2 swim caps, goggles, gloves, a jacket, bike helmet and glasses, inhaler, Vaseline, my phone, and God knows what else. It didn’t all fit in the bucket. I WAS going to put on my wetsuit at the house, since the starting line is just a half a mile away, but I opted against that…..I knew I would need frequent visits to the Blessed porta potties before starting. I arrived at 5:45am and the transition area was already about 75% full. The grass was wet on my flip flop clad feet and my sweat pant legs were getting damp. This pissed me off way more than it should have. (STRESS) I methodically set up my transition area, positioning everything I would need for the two changes. My helmet was perched upside down on my handlebars, with my glasses inside.  My wool socks were rolled down to the toes; my towel was ready, water bottle to wash my feet off was ready, and my bucket was turned upside down. Next to all of this were a jacket and my running shoes, and a small water bottle filled with an electrolyte drink for the run. Taped to my bike was a plastic bag with a small protein bar that I could shove  down at the start of the cycling. All that was left was for me to go to the bathroom six more times and put on my wetsuit.

Good morning athletes! Do you like my fake smile?

Good morning athletes! Do you like my fake smile?

Approximately thirty minutes before the scheduled start of the swim, I took a long pull or two on my inhaler and proceeded to encase myself in black rubber.

The time came for all athletes to move over to the shore line and assemble in our “waves”. I was in the 4th wave: females, 40 and older. We all had white swim caps. They assigned MY group of WHITE CAPS? BORING!!! Anyway, we lined up and nervously chatted.

White cap? Yes, but I think the purple adds a little fashion. Oh, and notice the look on my face!

White cap? Yes, but I think the purple adds a little fashion. Oh, and notice the look on my face!

One by one the waves of swimmers entered the water, for their “chest-deep” start. (I assume we didn’t do a beach-run start because they didn’t want people stomping on all of the snapping turtles.) As I  moved toward the water, I felt like a cow going to slaughter. The voices in my head laughed  and told me I was going to die. Then the shivering took over. As I moved further into the lake, I looked around and had what I can only describe as an out of body experience. The only thoughts I had were: 1) Oh my God, I am really going to do this, and 2) Oh my God, I wonder how many of these people around me are peeing in this water?

There was no time to worry about pee because the next thing I knew a gun went off and my wave started. SWIM PATTY! I took a few strokes and found myself playing a water version of Twister with four other swimmers. My goggles fogged up and I couldn’t see. All I could do was TRY to swim, which was impossible because a group of us were seemingly staying in one place, wrestling. This did not please me. I tried zig zagging, looking for a way out of the churn, and I realized I wasn’t breathing at all.  CALM DOWN! Since I couldn’t see out of my goggles, or stop shivering enough to get a good breath, I flipped over on my back and did some kind of messed up version of sculling. Embarrassed by this, I flipped back over and did some breaststroke. Then for some reason, I started side stroking. SIDESTROKING?!!! Who the HELL sidestrokes??? Oh, and I was barely 25 yards from the start! I  considered giving up right then and there. Yep. BUT I DIDN’T. I decided that no matter what, I was going to finish this God forsaken swim and get out of that lake. I never warmed up enough or calmed down enough to do more than ten to twenty crawl strokes at a time. I swam on my back a lot, inventing ways to move my body through the water. I breast stoked a TON, and did my best not to drink any of the lake’s blackish green water. I wondered: “WHERE THE HELL DID ALL MY TRAINING GO?”  I kept going. I stayed on my belly all the way into the shallow water, and jumped up when it was only two feet deep because I heard that is faster than trying to run through waist deep water.

This is how I WISH I felt after the swim....hahahahaha, silly girl.

This is how I WISH I felt after the swim….hahahahaha, silly girl.

I stumbled, exhausted, out of the swamp. As I gathered what remaining strength I had left, I unzipped my wetsuit and ripped my goggles off. I found that my entire face was covered in slime. I thought it was seaweed, until I realized it was coming out of my nose and mouth. I was a phlegm factory. It took several attempts before I was able to rid myself of that shit.

By the time I ran to my bike, the swim experience was completely behind me and I was READY! I had a little trouble getting my left leg out of the wetsuit because of the bulky timing chip on my ankle, and I started to panic. I stopped, took a calming breath,  and pulled my foot out. I put my glasses and helmet on, ripped open the bag with my snack in it, and shoved the protein bar in my mouth. Never underestimate how dry those things are! I was in the very back section of the transition area so I had to navigate around several people before I exited the area. I clipped right into my pedals, headed down the street, and spit out the protein bar, for fear of choking on the damned thing.

Something happened to me as soon as I got my feet spinning. I turned into a combination of Godzilla and Jim Carey in “The Mask”. I approached other cyclists with the screaming voice; “ON YOUR LEFT!”, “PASSING!”, “On YOUR LEFT!” Oh my God, I was actually embarrassed. (Well, not really) I was a mad woman throwing my head in the air and cackling!  “You’re MINE, I tell you!”

GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!

GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!

The course has a bad ass hill about a mile into the start, that sneaks up on you and never lets go.  My lungs were in my throat half way up. I crested the top and shifted into high gear. I usually brake a little on the downhill, but this time, I just let it go. WEEEEEEEEEE. (“Oh God, please don’t let me crash, please don’t let me crash”) The ride is an out and back and the usually fierce Montauk wind behaved on this day. I rode hard, although my legs were protesting the whole way. At one point I looked down at my computer and it read 30 MPH. WHAT? The last hill was a killer and I slowed down to 11 MPH for a portion.

This lady scares me!

This lady scares me!

Before I knew it I was back in the transition area and in short order, I changed into my running shoes and grabbed my water bottle. My feet took off faster than I thought possible, and for the first mile, I had no feeling in the front half of either of them. The course circles the lake and the views are stellar. Now that I was no longer IN the lake, I enjoyed its beauty. I got a little fatigued and in an effort to avoid an asthma attack, I took a few short walk breaks. I passed a lot of people on my run and finished with a sprint.

Coming down the home stretch

Coming down the home stretch

I put it all out there that morning. When I finished, I was heaving, and wheezing, and within about a minute after the finish, the tears arrived. Like I said in my previous post, they always do. There’s a mixture of: joy, exhaustion, wonder, elation, and accomplishment that I just can’t describe. I did it. I did well. I gave my all. I didn’t die. I didn’t shit myself.

2013-09-28 10.27.41

My bike shop buddies: Pierce and Lenny, and me, enjoying our age group awards!

To some, a Sprint Triathlon is like an easy walk in the park. They could do one in their sleep. For me? It was my biggest physical and mental accomplishment since I did my first marathon last year. But in many ways it was harder. I loved it. I hated it. I laughed and I cursed. I know I will do another one. Will I ever make it all the way to an Ironman? Oh boy…. time will tell. For now, I will enjoy this memory, and keep on training.

Facing My Fear: Part One (Preparing for My First Open Water Triathlon)

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The most exciting and frightening race event in my vast 20 month athletic career is now several days behind me. All the hype and stress, all the training, all the sleepless nights worrying and dreaming about everything that have gone wrong, are over. I no longer have to stare at Fort Pond, wondering if I will drown, freeze to death, be bitten by a snapping turtle, dragged under by a three foot long Carp, or worse yet, panic during the swim, shit myself and be dragged out of the water, humiliated, by one of the sexy young life guards. Whew! I survived it. No tears. (Well, they would come later as they always do) No vomit. No shitting myself.

Yep, 9 football fields worth of swimming in this.

Yep, 9 football fields worth of swimming in this.

In September 2012 I ran my first marathon in East Hampton, NY. The day AFTER that, I woke up to find athletes participating in the Montauk Mighty Man Triathlon, right outside my house! At that time, I had no idea that I would ever consider doing a triathlon, much less signing up for this very one. But after having so much fun  in the McMinnville Triathlon, I just had to sign up for the 2013 Montauk event. This would be my first open water event, and I had yet to swim in open water during any of my training. YIKES. Unleash the fear factor! You see, I have an overwhelmingly inappropriate fear of open water. This makes no sense at all, since I grew up on Long Island, was a beach life guard, and spent many a summer swimming all day and night in the deep waters of the Long Island Sound.

I just know this was underneath me every time I swam

I just know this was underneath me every time I swam

I purchased a wetsuit, endured a few evening swims in the Clackamas River with the Portland Triathlon Club, and off I flew to NY. The amount of crap you have to pack for an athletic event is nothing short of insane. I don’t think the settlers on the Oregon Trail packed this much!

The bag on the left had my athletic gear. The bag on the right had everything else I needed for a 3 week trip.

The bag on the left had my athletic gear. The bag on the right had everything else I needed for a 3 week trip.

My vacation in NY lasted 21 glorious days. The Triathlon was 19 days into the trip. That left a ton of time to train on the race course and get my open water experience to the point of being comfortable. Theoretically. It didn’t.

Warm, sunny days are common in the Hamptons in September. So are cold, cloudy, and windy days, however, as I was soon to experience. The first day of the trip proved to be in the upper 70’s and my childhood BFF Dede, who happens to be a fish in human form, was visiting us. She practically held my hand and stayed in the water with me for my first official Atlantic Ocean open water training session. I was pretty freaked out and imagined all manner of sea creatures lurking beneath my wet suit clad body, so while Dede leisurely swam a mile or two out in the deep water, I clung to the shallows, where I could touch the bottom with my hands. I figured the sharks would feast on Dede, and I could just stand up and run the two or three feet to the shore for safety. WIMP! I had three of four other swim workouts planned over the next few weeks, and I tried a few different beaches, but never got over my fear of being the only one in the water-or on the whole beach for that matter.On one particularly windy day, I squeezed my body into my wetsuit, drove to Navy Road Beach.

This is Navy Road Beach on a CALM day.

This is Navy Road Beach on a CALM day.

The usual calm bay had white caps and two foot waves crashing on the shore. I stood there for about three minutes before I turned around, got back in the car, and headed home. I think I poured myself a stiff drink and contemplated withdrawing from this race. Big Baby!

Part of being a real Triathlete means you have to learn to ride a bike with clips for pedals. This has always terrified me, but I decided to buy some cycling shoes and clips and bring them with me to Montauk, to train. My intention was to have them installed on the bike I keep in Montauk and then bring them home to put on my bike here. I had forgotten, though, that the bike I have in NY is a big fat Hybrid bike.

Big Baby-grocery hauler bike doesn't fly in a Tri

Big Baby-grocery hauler bike doesn’t fly in a Tri

The guys at the Montauk Bike Shop, Lenny and Pierce, had a few chuckles at my idea and basically thought I was nuts. (I am) They quickly talked me out of it and INTO the purchase of a used beautiful Giant Road Bike.

She's so purdy

She’s so purdy

I’m sure this won’t be the last bike I buy. I now officially started training like a “real” cyclist. Cloppy shoes and all.

Cycling training in interesting in Montauk. The freaking WIND! Usually when you ride into the wind, you at least know that when you turn around, the ride back will be glorious, with the wind at your back. Not so here, where Long Island is less than a mile wide and surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean. That wind whips in circles and is ALWAYS coming at you. Suffice it to say that my bike workouts were brutal.

Other than my slacking off my swim training, and struggles with cycling, my running was going relatively well. I stuck to my plan and logged my workouts daily. I also TRIED to keep my nutrition clean and healthy. That mostly went well, except for the excessive amounts of wine, margaritas, and the crazy blended drink called a “Kahlua Banana Banshee”. HEY! IT”S GOT A BANANA IN IT!

I would like to say that my relentless training and vast experience as a competitive athlete prepared me to be calm and confident as the days lead up to this race. Not so. There wasn’t a night that went by that I didn’t spend two to three hours flopping around on the bed, imagining all sorts of horror and drama in this race. Will it rain? Will I crash my bike? Will I cry and shiver, and make an ass out of myself? Time would tell.

I boldly kept on training. Kept on stressing. Kept on imagining horrible things. But somewhere behind all of that, I stayed extremely excited about facing my fears and finishing this race. I’ve had a lot of firsts in the past year, so why stop now. Stay tuned for Part Two-The race. Here’s a preview of that morning:

Good morning athletes!

Good morning athletes!


How Did it Come to This? (What am I doing picking up a new sport at my age?)

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This past year and a half, I have transformed my normal “habit” of working out, into an all out “commitment”. I’ve had high’s and low’s, but for some obsessive reason, I continue to push myself and explore new ways to challenge my body to it’s limit. If you are a regular reader of my blog, you know that I have done so, to the degree that I didn’t recognize when the “No pain, no gain” issue got out of hand, and I found myself with some serious injuries. I hope I have learned from that. I honestly don’t know. (Insert crooked smile)

For the most part, the people in my life appear to support my new commitment, and applaud my efforts to be stronger, healthier, and more fit. But there have been a few sideways glances, raised eyebrows, and full on: “What the Hell are you killing yourself for?” questions aimed at my sweating, heaving, self.

Brutally hot runA particularly hot and difficult run in August

On the surface, all is moving ahead in what I assume is a normal progression. NOT that I have the patience for normal progression. I (of course) half expected after the past two and a half months of intensive training, that I should be able to complete an Ironman. So far, I am not exactly ready.

Case in point: Two weeks ago, I took the plunge (gotcha) and bought a wet suit so that I could start training in open water. Why, you might ask, would one need a wetsuit in August, just to go swimming? HAHAHHAHAHAHA, well, the sad truth is that in Oregon, believe it or not, our mountain fed rivers never really warm up. (And don’t even get me started with the temperatures of the Pacific Ocean! ) So there I was in  The Athlete’s Lounge, stuck in a dressing room trying on wetsuits. Nobody had ever told me that this experience is like trying to put a Champagne cork back into a bottle. Seriously! I was making loud grunting noises. I was falling over, hitting the wall, breathing hard, and sweating like a pig, and it sounded like a porno movie was being filmed! At one point, I seriously considered giving up the sport of swimming, just to avoid having to try these sausage casings on! I got stuck in the legs twice and had to sit down just to catch my breath. That’s when I took this very flattering selfie:

My God, I need my inhaler and a shower!

My God, I need my inhaler and a shower!

I am sure the people that work there have to endure months of training so they can learn NOT to laugh, roll their eyes, and generally ignore all the newbies like me that come in all pumped up and “green” announcing to everyone that they “ARE TRAINING FOR A TRIATHLON.” Oh brother.

After an exhaustive session of profuse sweating, I finally bought the damned suit. The way my mind works is this: if I spend more money than I currently have laying around the floor, doing nothing, than I have to justify it big time to myself. I made promises in the car that day that no mortal human being could ever expect to keep! I guess I’m a cheep skate with my money and like many women my age, I don’t think I deserve to spend money on myself. (I’m working on that)

So back to my new sport-the Triathlon. It seems that if you really want to call yourself a triathlete, you HAVE to compete in open water. While that doesn’t sound so bad, consider how many times you have had the opportunity to really swim in open water. How about training? Year round? Nah! Pools are great for drills and off season, but in some areas, the minute the ice melts……Polar Bear Plunge

The time had come for me to get it done. There is a group swimmers that do an open water swim in the Clackamas River, about 4 miles from my house, every Wednesday evening. I had my newly purchased wetsuit and warm summer temperatures, so I had no excuse not to join them and see how I would do. I was a tad bit overwhelmed!

It looks a lot more daunting when you have to swim in it.

It looks a lot more daunting when you have to swim in it.

There are minutely visible buoys in the upper right corner of this photo. The first leg, you swim to an orange buoy. It is not visible to my naked eye when I am standing on the shore,  securely crammed into my neoprene second skin. Time to  get ‘er done. The first time, I wasn’t prepared for the panic. The claustrophobia. The: “Oh MY GOD, I can’t even see my hands underwater-it’s so murky.” sensation. Then there was the: “Shit!, people drown in this river all the time and what if a bloated body surfaces and bumps into me?” random thought. Suffice it to say, I survived. A little shaken, but I did it. I pretty much hyperventilated the entire 1000 yards, but I didn’t embarrass myself, or drown.

I went back a second time and it was much better. The third time, I was actually kind of cocky…..for about a minute. This time, I had already done a workout in the morning that consisted of a 20 mile bike ride and a 1 mile run. By the time 6:00pm came around, I was beat. But I went anyway, because it was Wednesday night, and I am a “triathlete!” It was a tough night. I was fatigued and sore from the workouts I had done this week, and I took a few breaks. I swam breaststroke for a while, floated on my back, cursed a little. (I enjoyed that part) BUT, I finished the swim! I didn’t panic or cry, which is a good thing.

As I cooled down with my new friends, I realized that a few months ago, there would have been  no way I could have, or would have done this. But, today, I walk tall and proud. Tomorrow, I might not get out of bed, but that’s irrelevant. I wondered how it came to this and I decided it doesn’t matter. It came. I’m conquering. That’s it. Oh, yeah, and let me tell you. There is NOTHING like the badass feeling I have when I am strutting back to my car in my wetsuit!

Oh, who's that bad ass chick in the wetsuit?

Oh, who’s that bad ass chick in the wetsuit?

So, how did it come to this? I have no idea and I don’t care. I’m just taking this journey one step, cycle, and stroke at a time. What new adventure are you trying? What would you like to try? Share your story. Thanks for visiting, and please subscribe to my blog.