At the beginning of the summer, I registered for the 3.8km swim at The Lost Race. I had been working on building my swim endurance through the winter and spring and I was comfortable with distances up to 2400 metres. I calculated (because I love working with numbers) that by adding 400m to my long swim each week, I would be well-prepared for the 3800m distance in August.
LOST stands for the Lake Ontario Swim Team. Every Saturday morning, from June until the water is too cold for swimming, we swim in Lake Ontario – most of us targetting the 3.8km race or the LOST Mile, which are held on the third Saturday in August. I always look forward to my Saturday morning swims and I know it is one of the main reasons that I have become more confident in open water.
Lake Ontario can be unpredictable in terms of temperature and water quality. Every now and then, there is a rollover, meaning colder water rolled into one part of the lake overnight and the temperature turned from what was once comfortable to one that brings out only the toughest of swimmers. Last August, for example, we saw a rollover from 21C on Friday to 5C on Saturday morning. In the same way, the quality of water can change with the wind, rain and higher/lower temperatures. One week, I might be able to see fish swimming below me but, on another, I might only be able to see my arm in front of me. Murky water has been common this summer.
After swimming a few weeks ago, my son noticed that my eye was very bloodshot. “That happened last week too,” added Dave. Well, my eye wasn’t just red; it was an image from a horror movie. By Sunday morning, red lines were also beginning to shoot through the other eye. It seemed that I picked up some kind of bacteria in the water (I can only assume this as my goggles were leaking) so rest from swimming and anything with impact (like running) replaced the next few days of training. I ended up waiting more than a week until my eyes cleared before I got back in the water: 1500 metres. Good! I changed my registration from the 3.8km swim to The Lost Mile (or 1600 metres).
On race morning, the forecast was, for lack of a better word, iffy. Oakville was pummelled with rain the night before so I was worried about the lake’s conditions; I knew the temperature was warm but the water quality was a concern. It was also obvious that the swim was going to be in rough water and the threat of thunderstorms were real. The demons in my imagination would not be quiet. “Don’t swim. It could be dangerous,” or “Stay home, you still need to be careful with your eye.” But I knew that if I stayed home and the water was clear, calm or both and the predicted thunderstorms passed, I would be angry with myself. I also reminded myself that water is not always going to be calm on race day and that this would be a good experience for me. So I headed out the door and cranked up Taylor Swift and Footloose to fill my brain with positive vibes on the drive down to the lake.
By the time I actually stepped in the water, I was mentally ready. Yes, the water was choppy and, yes, the quality was not great, but the negative thoughts that filled my mind earlier had disappeared. Now I was looking forward to The Lost Mile.
The course was a mostly east-west swim but the wind was primarily from the south. This meant that we were constantly being hit with waves and I was swallowing a lot of water. Within the first 300m., I found myself stopping more than once, then made the decision to swim without worrying about my time; I just had to finish. I thought that once we turned around to swim west – back to the start – it would be easier but I could not have been more wrong. I kept hitting a wall of wind; whenever I looked up to make sure that the buoys were lined up ahead of me, they never seemed to get any closer. “Long and Strong,” I reminded myself. “Make sure you are pulling water. Pull hard.” The last 600 metres were significantly slower than the first kilometre; this and my frequent stopping to “regroup” at the start of the mile cost me a few minutes of time and I ended up being slower than I wanted to be. But I finished and I felt good about it, given the conditions of the day.
Last night, I found this picture on the web. I love the expression; it is obvious that I was proud of myself. Then I laughed when I looked at my stomach; clearly, I had my fair share of the lake inside. Even my oldest commented, “Oh my! It looks like you’re at the end of your first trimester.” That was when I reminded him that I finished third in the 60 – 98 year age group – definitely not pregnant.
While this was a tough race, I took away a lot of learning. Four years ago, I could not swim more than 100 metres without stopping. Three years ago, I had to learn how to swim in open water. Today, I have several long open water swims behind me and goals to go even further. Just wait. I’m still chasing my dreams.
