On Sunday morning, my alarm went off at 2:30 a.m. It was game day: my first Ironman. I got up, showered, ate, dressed in my tri gear and sweats to keep warm, then headed out the door. I was on my own for the rest of the day – surrounded by 2500 other athletes, hundreds of volunteers, and probably a few thousand spectators.

Before I went to bed the night before, Dave said that he might walk with me to the shuttles and swim start. He later said that he might drive me. When Dave says “might” in anything related to the morning, I know it is not going to happen. I was prepared to go on my own and wasn’t at all bothered by that. Dave also had a lot to do in the next 24 hours: cheer me along. I knew that he would be out on the bike and run courses and, of course, at the finish line. Anyone who has spectated an Ironman can attest to how much fun but exhausting it can be.

I left the hotel at 3:30 a.m. and headed to Ironman Village with my two special needs bags and my swim gear. Everyone is allowed to use special needs bags, which contain anything that we might want during the second half of the ride and the run. We can only access them once; anything that is not used becomes garbage or is donated at the end so we are careful to only put in what we think we’ll need. In my bike bag, I had 3 bottles of Skratch (carbs) and Nuun (electrolytes), a few small ziplocks of pretzels, a snack bag of Skratch gels, a Brix waffle and a few Xact bars. My run bag only had a pair of socks (in case mine got wet) and a few Xact bars. After dropping off my bags in two locations, I got on a bus and lost myself in my thoughts. About 20 minutes later, we arrived at Britannia Beach and the water was calm.

It was barely 4:30 a.m. and there was already a quiet buzz of athletes checking their bikes, loading them with fuel and nutrition, and getting ready for the swim. My bike had cages for 3 bottles: one on the aerobars, one on the downtube and a third behind the seat. In Muskoka, I lost a bottle that flew out of the cage behind my seat and I didn’t want that to happen again so I had decided not to use it. But, since I needed a place to store my nutrition until I started the ride, I stashed gels in a bottle and put it in that cage with the plan to stuff my pockets with them before I started to ride. I had limited space in my top tube storage as I needed most of it for bike tools in case of a flat and my puffer. I shoved a Brix waffle in it as well as I wanted to put some solid food in my stomach after I swam.

Once my bike was organized, I headed to the dreaded porta-potties. The lines were long and I immediately regretted my decision not to go earlier. Knowing that I was going to be at the back of the swim start, though, it made more sense for me to wait. Thirty minutes later, I finally closed the door behind me and heard the song “I Like to Move It, Move It” blasting outside. Appropriate.

After that, the only thing left to do was to put on my wetsuit and drop off my morning bag (the clothes that I wore to the start) and head to the swim. I only had 5 minutes until T1 was closed and the Ironman started. As I got closer to the exit, I noticed that I was still wearing my Oofos. “Ugh!” I ran back to the morning bag drop off and a kind volunteer took them, saying that she would find my bag for me and put them in it. As I was rushing back to the exit, I then realized that I still had my puffer shoved in the calf of my wetsuit, where I put it before going into the porta-potty. I raced back to my bike, got yelled at by a marshall or volunteer because I shouldn’t have been there, apologized, showed him by puffer and explained that I forgot to leave it behind, took one last puff, stashed it in my bike and raced to the swim start. There was nothing more to do now but wait to start the 3.8km swim.

I was ready, but I was also nervous. After my friend, Marlene, started, her husband passed me and wished me good luck. Having a familiar face was all I needed to help my nerves settle.

The ladies around me chatted about other Ironman swims that they had done, the water conditions of them, their favorite courses….I was the newbie and had nothing to contribute. I was happy to listen and think about the calm, warm water in the Ottawa River (about 24C) that we were given for our swim.

When I got closer to the start line, though, I realized that the water had changed from calm to choppy. “I can do this,” I told myself. “I swam here on Friday. I have trained in Lake Ontario. I did two 3K swims back to back a few weeks ago. I can cover this distance. I’ve got this.” Positive self-talk played and replayed for the next two hours.

I noticed the chop of the water as soon as I started. “Elbow high. Drive down.” Waves hit my face. “Breathe out. Don’t forget to blow.” I kept my eyes on the swimmers around me as I had trouble seeing the buoys. “Just keep swimming. You can do this.” I was barely 200 metres in when I realized that I was going to have to use the breath pattern that I came up with on Friday if I wanted to swim straight and not finish with a belly full of river water. “Right, left, breathe. Left, right, breathe. Right, left, look forward to breathe and sight. Left, right….” I didn’t know it at the time but I think that pattern kept me from (1) swallowing a lot of water and (2) getting sick on the bike or run, as so many people told me they were from the swim.

When I felt the vibration of my watch, set to buzz every 500 metres, I knew that I was warmed up and would be fine for the rest of the swim. All I had to do was keep swimming – simple. I didn’t have time to think about anything but driving my hands into the river and pulling hard. At the point, I was swimming directly into the current. 1000 metres, buzz. 1500 metres, buzz. “Almost half-way.” And, then, I had a moment with Jesus.

When I looked forward to sight, I thought I saw people standing up. “Weird.” I kept swimming, then realized that people were walking. “We can’t be done already. Did they cancel the swim? Is the water that rough?” I continued on, my mind percolating with ideas. Then I realized that I could touch the bottom of the river with my hands. “What the…?” I started walking. I looked around me, trying to process what was going on, wondering if I was really seeing what I thought I was. This near out-of-body experience had me asking myself “Am I actually walking on water?”

“What is going on?” I asked out loud. “I am so confused.”

The swimmer closest to me replied, “We all are.”

That was the end of our conversation and we kept moving forward. “This is so weird.” And as unexpectedly as the river became shallow, I found myself in deeper water again and started swimming. “What was that?”

I learned later that this surreal experience was the result of a shoal, a shallow part of the water that occurs in rivers. Nobody knew it was there. Well, perhaps the organizers did but nobody told us about it. As confused as I was at the time, I have to admit that I did appreciate the short break from swimming.

When we got to the turn-around, I expected that the current would help push us back to Britannia Beach but the water was still hitting me in the face. At that point, sighting was also difficult because the kayakers, dressed in neon pink volunteer shirts and in brightly coloured boats, were close to the buoys and blocked them. As we got closer and closer to the finish, this became even more challenging as the kayakers from the start of the swim were joining the others in the second half so there was that much more colour.

I stayed focus on my swimming but I was starting to notice more and more people holding onto kayaks. Either they were tired and needed a break, or they weren’t feeling well, I thought. I felt great. I knew that I was slow but I was confident that I was going to meet the 2 hour, 20 minute cut-off; the past year of training for this day had prepared me for this.

When I felt my watch vibrate at 3500 metres, I was excited. I still could hardly see the finish because of the flotilla of boats and bright colours, so many that I swam a bit past the final turn. As I swam towards shore, I heard one lady yell, “This is so confusing! I can’t see where I am suppose to swim!” I was not alone.

Rather than focus on what was in the water, I could view the “Swim Finish” and steered myself towards it. I felt powerful with each catch of the water and pulled myself towards the finish. What was probably just a few minutes later, I was done. I had just finished my 3 800 metre Ironman swim!