Water +1, Suzanne +1

Following the aforementioned race, (race name AKA "Dashin' but not a lot of splashin') I was pretty bummed out.

I went to Palm Desert for my birthday weekend, which was an excellent, relaxing distraction. While on vacation I worked out every day. No time wasted here. Luckily I went with my two mommy friends who dragged my ass out of bed between 6am and 7am each morning (because mother's never sleep), and we made it to the gym each day. I also swam a little bit in the pool each day, and even practiced a couple of flip-turns just for fun.

I needed to get serious about this swimming thing, so I emailed my friends, Kem and Bryan, who lives in Foster City to see if they would be open to doing some open water swimming with me. Low and behold, they have the Foster City Lagoon (literally) in their front yard. We all checked it out, and it received online reviews indicating that it is both safe and swimable, so as soon as I got home we set a swimming date and I took Mr. Wetsuit up the peninsula.

Now, the Foster City lagoon is water from the San Francisco Bay, so it is salty like ocean water. There are also a few waves associated with boats, currents, wind, etc so it's not choppy like the bay or ocean, but it's not as calm as a pool. Visibility is low, but it is only up to 9 feet deep, so there isn't much going on down there to surprise you. I'm not even sure if there is fish. I don't think so.

K & B had mapped out a route from the park to the boat dock that was about 500 meters. I would have been pretty happy with two passes (1,000 meters) although I would need another 500 meters to complete a mile swim. The first thing I thought when I saw the route was, "This is a lot more than 500 meters, right?" Like the swim race, I tried to put it into perspective of time. "I am going to be in the water for 45 minutes. That's all." We three swimmers walked down to the park to start our swim; Bry and I wore our wetsuits and Kem was much more brave. The water was a nice 70-something degrees, it was a lovely day, and there were no boats out on the water.

"Ok, here we go," says Bryan.

I realized a lot about how far I'd come in those first 500 meters. First, I realized how far I'd come since not being able to complete a lap 4 months before. Secondly, I realized how comfortable I was becoming with my stroke and kick. Finally, I knew it was more about controlling the situation more than about my personal fitness ability. After 200 meters or so, I knew I was in control. As I breathed side to side, I was able to mark my place along the shore. It was also very nice not to have to stop and turn around like in a pool situation; I could just keep going long until I got tired or was finished. I wasn't tired. Instead, everything felt like it was coming together and I imagined myself like a little fish - like I belonged in that water. It wasn't more than 10 minutes that I'd reached the end of the first 500 meters, and I wanted to turn around and go back right away.

We swam 3 lengths, or 1,500 meters that day. The next week we did it again and went 4 lengths, and even rode 30 minutes down the Bay Trail.

I kicked the water's butt.

Water +1, Suzanne 0

I successfully completed my first 1,650 meters in the pool (the distance needed for my olympic triathlon), so I decided to test it in open water. The "Splash and Dash" event was a .93 mile swim in a nice, 78 degree, fresh water reservoir, followed by a hard terrain, 5K run that ends up a very steep hill.

Upon arrival at the Steven's Creek Reservoir on a lovely summer evening, I remember looking at the giant orange, Doritos buoys in the water and thinking, "Damn, is that a mile? That seems really far." But, I knew I had already swum a mile in the pool! Instead of dwelling on the seemingly long distance, I decided to put it into time. It's 45 minutes or less of exercise, something I have done 1-7 days a week for most of my life. It's only 45 minutes. No big deal.

I wondered if swimming was like running where you get excited when the race starts and end up going a lot faster than you would on your own. The thought of doing better in a race than on my own totally pumped me up!! Then, I started to see people changing into wetsuits. I thought the wetsuit was only needed in cold water. . . so I didn't bring one.

First of all, a mile is a long way to swim. Mostly because you don't know where the hell you are going. Sure, there are these huge buoys in the water and they are bright orange, but your head is UNDER the water most of the time. Furthermore there are a hundred people around you, kicking and swimming OVER you, that there isn't a lot of time to look around. You know?

I've taken for granted how easy running is for me. I know how fast I need to start, when I can give it more, and when I need to slow it down a bit. I don't know how to do this when swimming. I only know how to kick one way, stroke one way, and breath after every three strokes. I don't think about what my feet are doing when I'm running. I just . . . go!

Lastly, the wetsuit gives you buoyancy. This helps when your swimming form is completely thrown out the window due to the above mentioned distractions: no visibility, people swimming over you, and forgetting to breath.

The outcome of my first Splash and Dash was panic. I was the last person in the water. I started to swim, keeping an eye out for the woman's feet in front of me. Then I couldn't breath. I turned my head to take a breath but it wasn't enough, so I turned my head again. Then the hyperventilating began. Yes, I was breathing IN, but had completely forgotten to breath OUT.

"I can not do this." It was a thought that occurred to me only a couple of other times in my life. It was so far from my typically fearless attitude, that the clarity of hearing it in my own head made me know it was very real. "I can not do this."

I swam back to shore after swimming maybe 50 meters. Someone called out, "Wow! You're done already." Oh, that's right. I was so done.