Stroke and Stride is a group that puts on an open water swim and 5K run at the Boulder Reservoir every Thursday evening throughout the summer. Both my swim coach and my triathlon coach suggested I should try it to get used to open water swimming. I thought, no problem, I'm a scuba diver, windsurfer, and surfer - of course I'm used to open water.
OH MY GOD! And I do not say that lightly! I had no idea what I was in for. I had rented a wetsuit earlier in the week and had done a few laps in the swimming area at the rez a couple days before. For my first Stroke and Stride I signed up for the 750 vs. 1500 swim figuring I should see what it was like before going overboard. I got to the reservoir in plenty of time to get registered, set up, and see what the deal was. Even though it was 6:00PM, the sun was in the west and on it's way down and the shadow effect made the water look black. A breeze was blowing from the east making the water choppy. There were about 200 triathletes in the water when the gun went off and we started swimming.
That first dunk underwater was colder than I was expecting and I came up gasping for breath. I tried to swim a few freestyle strokes but I couldn't get my breathing under control. My goggles were so scratched up that it was hard to see the giant orange buoy floating off in the distance. When I put my head down all I could see was murky green water. When I turned for a breath of air all I could see were flailing arms and kicking feet. I went into panic mode. I didn't want to turn around but at that point the swim distance looked overwhelming.
I decided if I was going to keep moving ahead the first thing I had to do was breathe. I resorted to the breaststroke and little by little I inched toward the buoy. I had forgotten to set my watch so I had no frame of reference on how fast I was going. I was just praying not to be the last one in the water. I got to the the first buoy and made the turn. The second buoy wasn't too far away and I kept propelling myself forward. When I was about half way there, I decided to try the crawl again. This time I had the mountains on my right and it was so comforting to have a familiar landmark to sight off of. OK, so far so good. I made it to the second buoy and headed for the home stretch. I switched off between the breaststroke and crawl but my breathing was still desperate gulps instead of controlled inhales.
I passed a girl who had stopped dead in the water, was treading water, and looked near hypothermic. Her boyfriend or husband was yelling at her to put her head down in the water and swim. I was so thankful that wasn't me me and I realize things could be worse. I made it to the beach and crossed the tracking tapes. I was so glad to be out of the water! I looked at the clock, I think it took me 20 or 22 minutes to swim the 750. In my muddled mind I think 750 is a quarter mile and that I will have to do 10 laps the day of the Ironman. I am despondent - I'm too slow, it's too long, what have I done?
It's almost a week later when it dawns on me that 750 is actually almost half a mile! I'm elated! It's not as bad as I thought. I think I can finish in time:)
OH MY GOD! And I do not say that lightly! I had no idea what I was in for. I had rented a wetsuit earlier in the week and had done a few laps in the swimming area at the rez a couple days before. For my first Stroke and Stride I signed up for the 750 vs. 1500 swim figuring I should see what it was like before going overboard. I got to the reservoir in plenty of time to get registered, set up, and see what the deal was. Even though it was 6:00PM, the sun was in the west and on it's way down and the shadow effect made the water look black. A breeze was blowing from the east making the water choppy. There were about 200 triathletes in the water when the gun went off and we started swimming.
That first dunk underwater was colder than I was expecting and I came up gasping for breath. I tried to swim a few freestyle strokes but I couldn't get my breathing under control. My goggles were so scratched up that it was hard to see the giant orange buoy floating off in the distance. When I put my head down all I could see was murky green water. When I turned for a breath of air all I could see were flailing arms and kicking feet. I went into panic mode. I didn't want to turn around but at that point the swim distance looked overwhelming.
I decided if I was going to keep moving ahead the first thing I had to do was breathe. I resorted to the breaststroke and little by little I inched toward the buoy. I had forgotten to set my watch so I had no frame of reference on how fast I was going. I was just praying not to be the last one in the water. I got to the the first buoy and made the turn. The second buoy wasn't too far away and I kept propelling myself forward. When I was about half way there, I decided to try the crawl again. This time I had the mountains on my right and it was so comforting to have a familiar landmark to sight off of. OK, so far so good. I made it to the second buoy and headed for the home stretch. I switched off between the breaststroke and crawl but my breathing was still desperate gulps instead of controlled inhales.
I passed a girl who had stopped dead in the water, was treading water, and looked near hypothermic. Her boyfriend or husband was yelling at her to put her head down in the water and swim. I was so thankful that wasn't me me and I realize things could be worse. I made it to the beach and crossed the tracking tapes. I was so glad to be out of the water! I looked at the clock, I think it took me 20 or 22 minutes to swim the 750. In my muddled mind I think 750 is a quarter mile and that I will have to do 10 laps the day of the Ironman. I am despondent - I'm too slow, it's too long, what have I done?
It's almost a week later when it dawns on me that 750 is actually almost half a mile! I'm elated! It's not as bad as I thought. I think I can finish in time:)
