Flip, Rebecca, Flip!

I've swum twice since I last posted. They just weren't profound, so no blog about them....

Tonight I had my first gymnastics class.  I'm taking "adult tumbling" from the School of Acrobatics and New Circus Arts. The class is an hour of tumbling and an hour of trampoline.  We worked on headstands, handstands, forward rolls and cartwheels. Then we went on the trampoline and I did sit jumps and half turns.  I will be SORE tomorrow, but it was awesome.

The one sort of swimming related thing is that I got HORRIBLY motion sick from the forward rolls.  I got a bit motion sick on the last swim as well.  So its time to work on systemic solutions.  The wrist bands worked on my train trip last month. Ginger seems to work as well (though I don't know about eating during class). One friend suggested ear plugs for swimming, but that won't make a difference for tumbling. A classmate tonight said she takes a Dramamine an hour before class.

For the next few weeks I'm going to try various interventions both when I swim and when I roll, and see what happens.

Oh, and for the record, part of why I'm taking this class is to learn to do a cartwheel before my 40th birthday-- in 11 months.

This is who I am.

This post is a week late. The swim was last Saturday. Sunday I got on a train across Canada, and couldn't post. So here it is.

I didn't do the "last gasp" swim.  I'd pulled my glute muscle earlier in the week, and wasn't sure I'd have a strong enough kick. Another "DNF" was not the way to gain back my confidence. So I thought I'd test things out in Lake Washington instead.  This idea proved to be brilliant.

I was having a very emotional day. The trip across Canada was one I'd been anticipating for almost a year. And the fact that I was finally packing to go had me in a vulnerable feeling head space. That, combined with almost a week off exercise to rest the glute left me craving a workout.

I took a break from packing, and headed down to the lake. As I was getting in, a father, out walking with his young son, asked me about the water temp. My reply was "probably in the high 60's, so a little warmer than the air."  When I checked the bouy stats, I was right. 68*.  Perfect for a short swim.

Within 5 strokes I KNEW I'd made the right decision.  I remembered who I am.  Swimming makes me the most me I know. The sky's were cloudy, so visibility under water was excellent. And I relaxed.  The stress of the trip, the emotionality floated away.  It was the perfect swim.

It rained briefly. My first "wet" swim.  And the waves were whitecaps for a while.  I probably only swam for 25 minutes, as I still had some housework to do.  But it was still perfect.  A reminder of who I am.

I don't have photos from the swim.... so here's one from the train trip across Canada.'

Lost my nerve?

There's a "Last Gasp of Summer" swim this Saturday at a lake just about 20 minutes from here. One mile and two mile options. Course open for 90 min with the 1 mile swim starting either 15 or 30 minutes after the 2 mile start, depending on which web page you read. Either way, that leaves at least an hour for a mile swim. In a lake (no tide). I didn't sign up a few weeks ago, when I first learned about it, because I didn't know if I'd be in town or not.  Now I know I will be.

But...

For some reason, I'm scared to sign up. Do I want to drive all the way over to SeaTac to swim with strangers? What if I'm pulled again? There is something about the Park-to-Park, and the Greenlake Open Water Swim (GLOWS) that are familiar, are family. There are people there who love me. Who know I may be slow but that I'm strong. Do I really want to swim with people who don't believe in me?

I think my confidence is still shaken from the Whidbey Island swim. Especially the idea that I didn't know how bad off I was.  Although I admit that is a possibility, based on how I felt later in the day (neither cold nor tired) I have a hard time believing it is the "truth."

The first ever OWS that I did was GLOWS in 2007.  Here is an excerpt from my race report (note, that I swam this without a wetsuit):

There were about 50 people doing the half-mile and I started near the back. The chop was still strong from all the swimmers and a stiff wind, and I was getting a face full of water every time I turned my head to breathe. It was so cold that I was hyperventilating, my heart was racing. I switched to breaststroke to see if I could catch my breath. Then to sidestroke, facing away from the waves, so I wasn’t being hit in the face. The other swimmers around me (back of the pack) were struggling in the waves as well. I heard one call a lifeguard over to take her back to shore. Another took her wetsuit off and dropped it with a guard.  I pushed on, panting, and wondering how I could relax and breathe.

It occurred to me that I might have to drop. I wasn’t sure what to do to breathe. I slowed down. I switched strokes (trying everything but back stroke) I still couldn’t get my heart to stop racing or my breath to slow. I was taking in large amounts of water. I was quite sure I wasn’t going to do my tri in 3 weeks, not if the swim is going to be like this.  I knew, that I could do this swim if I could relax, but I couldn’t get my body to relax. The green tents of the finish looked so far away.

At one point I was the second to last swimmer. I heard three guards talking to each other- I’ll take this one, you take that one, you go on ahead with the pack. Great. I had my own guard. I took on more water, coughing. The guard asked me if I was ok. I told him I was fine, and kept moving forward.  I’ve had this kind of “death march” feeling in a race before. My goal was to just keep moving as I fought to relax. I couldn’t figure out how to catch my breath and still swim forward.

About half way across the lake I started to relax. Somehow, I got my rhythm. I was able to switch between crawl and breast. I gave into the experience, and swam.  The swim became fun. I started passing other swimmers. The green tents at the finish started coming closer. I could hear my mom’s voice yelling for me, and the cheers of other swimmers and spectators. I saw the swimmer in front of me stand, marked the spot and swam for it. Then I stood, legs shaking, and ran for the finish.

The conditions were bad, and I panicked, but pushed through it and finished in 22:xx (it's a short half mile). My head knows I can do it. My heart continues to doubt.

I'm still undecided about the "Last Gasp." My Saturday plans are not yet finalized, so I'm not sure I can make it. But I wish I were more excited. More able to say "I can do this."  I'm not sure where my confidence has gone or why I need others to believe in my to be able to believe in myself.

Lake Chelan- Labor Day Weekend

For the past five years a gang of my friends has gone away together for Labor Day weekend. We have visited the Washington Coast, Orcas Island, Mt. Rainier, and this year, Chelan, WA.  Thirteen of us rented a SWEET house, that included it's own private pool, and spent the weekend hanging out and swimming.

 The pool was a two lane, lap pool  Seriously good for both hanging out and swimming in.  Saturday, I did my first (and only?) pool swim of the year.  It felt weird to be confined to a pool. No wetsuit. No milfoil. Just chlorine. And a bunch of dead bees.

The house was up on the hills, above Chelan with an amazing view of the lake. We spent many an hour sitting in Adirondack chairs with a Pimms Cup admiring the view. Evenings we played with the pingpong table and had our own dance party.

 Sunday, we rented a boat. A simple pontoon boat, that had a wimpy motor, but could still pull a person on an inter-tube. We went swimming and tubing.

After about an hour of enjoying motoring up the lake we found a place to swim. KP, DF and I (the same friends I'd swum with in Baker Lake) lept from the boat and took off for a quick swim to shore.  KP's friend, a beach lifeguard, followed quickly behind (catching up with us easily). The water was amazing. Clear, and really soft on the skin. Few waves. No fish or other sea-life that we could detect. We touched bottom on the rocky shore. Rested for just a minute, then returned to the boat. It was a short, but excellent swim.  We continued to play and float in the water, dive off the boat and generally enjoy ourselves for another 40 minutes, before having to get the boat back to the rental agency. We were able to enjoy a local winery on the way back to the house.

 

 

 

I did a final pool swim on Monday morning. Enjoying having the pool to myself. Sad to leave it. We all agreed that this house will be rented again. Some future Labor Day.

On the way home (ok, out of the way) we stopped at Grand Coulee Dam. If we hadn't been focused on getting home, and the 3 hour drive in holiday weekend traffic, I would have asked for a swim stop, in Banks Lake or one of the many other beautiful bodies of water we passed.

Thanks to my friends, and swim buddies for a fabulous weekend.

Park to Park Swim- Race Report

Today was the annual Park to Park swim- an approximately 1.5 mile swim across Lake Washington, from Mathews Beach to O.D. Denny Park. Today was also a vindication of my swim from last week.

This swim was an act of faith. Faith that the other side was there, through all the fog. Faith that I'd eventually be able to see the finish line. And faith in myself, that I could make it.

Alarm at 6:12 felt early, but I'd made some wise decisions the night before, stayed in the bar with friends until only 10:30 and didn't have any alcohol. The weather was foggy. But it wasn't raining. My Sister-in-law, J, and her friend, L, picked me up at 6:40. The plan was for the partners to meet us on the other side of the lake for the ride back.

When we got to Mathews Beach you couldn't see the other side of the lake, the fog was so dense. But there was a shadow of a sun behind the fog, and an indication that it might burn off. As swimmers discussed the course ahead of time, another swimmer had said we were to swim towards the white sign on the other shore. Most of us replied with "what white sign?" By our start time, skies were clearing, but that sign was still illusive.

I was in the first wave-- those with pink caps. There were blue, yellow, green and white behind us, starting at 5 minute intervals. People self seeded, based on predicted pace, with the slowest swimmers going out first. I swam this in about a hour and 8 minutes last year and was predicting a similar time for this year. The swim is not timed, and not, technically, a race.

As I got on my wetsuit, I struggled a bit with the demons from last week. I'd had a good chat about it the night before with a friend-- and had re-asserted my belief that I could have finished last week, and could have done it in about an hour, if I'd been given the opportunity. But the self-doubt still crept in. Was the kayaker from last week correct? Was I really in that bad of shape? Was I making a huge mistake by going out into the deep water again this week? The only way to prove to myself that I do have the capacity for this type of swim was to do it. So I did.

The pinks started off, and I started with them. Crawl to begin. I kept up with the pack pretty well for the first three or four minutes. Then, as last week, realized that the adrenalin had me going out too fast, and I needed to slow down. The doubts crept in, already. Was I really too unfit for this? Was my training weaker that I'd thought? Switched to breast, caught my breath, and pushed on.

My 10k time, when I was running regularly, was about an hour and five minutes. This swim is similar to a 10k. However, during most runs I would talk to people-- other runners, volunteers. On a swim, you don't. You are left alone with your thoughts.

During the swim it was impossible to not compare this event to the one from last week. The only time this week I spoke to a kayaker was when I asked for help with sighting. Otherwise, they left us alone. Unlike last week's staff that were on top of me the whole time. This swim supports swimmers of all abilities, not just those who maintain specific time frames. I thought about my nieces, and what we want to teach them about athleticism. They are 7 and 9, and strong, smart girls. However, they come from a genetic stock that means they will never be elite or even strongly competitive athletes. However, we would like them, like me and their mom, to love sport. To want to see what their bodies can do. To enjoy training and pushing their bodies to test their own limits. We want them to love what they can do, and be proud of themselves, even if they aren't the fastest, strongest, or most adept. An event, like the Park-to-Park, supports that. It welcomes all trained athletes to test themselves. This is the type of event I want to support. One that supports swimmers like me.

Mentally I divided the swim into three sections, of approximately a half mile each. The first one whizzed by. I just got my grove on and it was done. The next one was pure pleasure. The joy that motion brings. The final one was work. But even as I got near the end, I didn't want it to end.

Once I got my groove, I pretty much just put my head down and swam. As I neared the end I feared I'd be the last swimmer to finish. That I was slower than I'd thought. That I'd have that embarassment of the applause from everyone, as I was last. That I'd have DFL (Dead F-in Last) as the letters from this swim as opposed to the DNF (did not finish) I got last week. I don't know why it bothered me so much. I'd been DFL before-- in a 7 mile trail race that had only 36 entrants. I still felt accomplished. But for some reason, last week's swim got under my skin. And I felt like I had something to prove. I turned to look behind me and saw a good two dozen swimmers, including others in pink caps. I knew I'd be fine.

Eventually, the finish banner came into sight, and the white sign on the shore near it. Last year their had been a strong current, away from shore, just before landing. I prepared for it. But it was absent this year. (last year the wind had also been strong enough to cause huge waves and motion sickness, this year it was flat).

J, L, and the partners were waiting on shore. I finished strong and happy. I also restored my faith in myself.

Whidbey Island Adventure Swim- Race Report

This is my first ever DNF (did not finish). And a simple DNF just does not tell the story. So I'll elaborate a bit.

I only heard about this race a few weeks ago, and signed up on Thursday. They had 1.2 mile and 2.4 mile options. I chose the 1.2 mile option, figuring it would take me about an hour. The email we got in advance of the race said they had a strict 90 min course time limit. So I figured I was fine.

Friday night we went to dinner with some friends. Walked both ways, about a mile and a half each direction. Got home at 1am, and fell into bed by 1:30. The alarm was set for 6:15 but I was up by 6 and turned it off. Got geared up and headed to the ferry.

The crossing was beautiful that time of morning. There were tons of fishing boats out, the water was smooth, and the sun was just barely over the horizon. The swim staff had arranged for someone to pick me up at the ferry, and we were at the beach in short order.

I registered- got number 2 (that's alphabetical order for you)- and did body marking. Struck up conversation with another swimmer- B. Turns out she's from Vancouver, and had driven down just for the swim. She also swims in the ocean year round. I grilled her a bit about what gear she wears, and then it was time for the pre-race meeting.

The course description from the race director was confusing. Turns out it was simply a double loop-- .6 miles each-- with a hook around a particular buoy to finish. It was a large triangle, with a long hypotenuse. The race director announced that there would be 7 kayaks and 7 life guards and 2 motor boats, and that saftey was their biggest concern. They were asking that if the staff asked us to stop swimming that we please cooperate with them. Then they announced that there was a 25 min time limit on the first loop and a 45 min limit on the second one (for folks swimming the 2.4 mile swim), and folks could expect to be pulled if they didn't make the loops in those time frames. I tried to do the math in my head, but couldn't easily (a mile takes me 45- 50 min, how long does .6 take??). I was worried about the cut off but figured I should just swim.

Got the wetsuit on and got in the water for the wet start. The water was 60*, and, of course, salt! The trombone player from the local orchestra started us off, and the 26 swimmers took to the water. I started swimming. Feeling pretty good. The water was cold. But I was ok. I quickly drifted to the back of the pack. One person swam over me. I kicked another. But we spread out quickly enough. I had a hard time catching my breath, and a kayaker (who I later learned was named Emily) came over to check on me. I did some head-up breast stroke to try to regulate my breathing. It helped, but took a while. Emily was really supportive, said this happens a lot in cold water. She seemed really concerned about me, but I knew that if I could get in a groove, I would be fine. As I rounded the first buoy, I slowly started to get my rhythm. I was on the hypotenuse, and could feel a strong cross wave action. I got a little motion sick, but was using primarily breast stroke, with crawl thrown in now and again. The breast stroke helps me both sight and keep control over the motion sickness.

Emily stayed near me, and checked in on me now and again. At one point she asked me if I was feeling cold. I said no, that I felt fine. She said I was looking a little blue. This is when I started wondering what was going on physiologically for me. Was it the cold water? The lack of sleep? Tired legs from walking? The single glass of wine I'd had? It started to occur to me that she was likely going to pull me from the race. I decided that if she did, I wasn't going to be a jerk about it, I'd simply get out. I remembered all the profiles of people who had died in triathlons that I read in the Fearless Swimming book (I reviewed it a few weeks ago). One of the commonalities in those cases was that people were often chatting with lifeguards shortly before they died. Many of them said they were fine. I didn't want to be one of those folks, and have made a commitment to always err on the side of saftey when in the water.

As I rounded the second buoy I was felling great and starting to swim strong. The water was fairly shallow, and I started looking for crabs. Emily came over and said they were pulling me. I had a choice, a boat could come, or I could swim in after one lap. I said I'd swim in.

I was disappointed, but had realized this was likely to happen so didn't fight it. Just before I rounded the final buoy the first two swimmers passed me on their way to the finish. The race had "catchers" at the finish to help you stand up. A WONDERFUL idea, as it can be dizzying to get out of the water.

The medical team met me on land and asked me how I was doing. I said I was fine, and I was. I chatted with them for a few minutes, until they were assured I really was fine, and they wandered off. A reporter for the local news asked me a few questions. I made it clear that I wasn't the first woman finisher, but instead a DNF.

Everyone seemed to know my name. Which made me wonder what they were saying about me when I was out there. I took a few photos, chatted with people, and changed. B finished and said she'd had a great swim. She was heading for the ferry and so I bummed a ride. It was good to de-brief a bit with anther swimmer. I would love to swim with her this winter in Vancouver.

Hours later I went through a period of being very angry about how today played out. The second finisher finished in about 33 minutes, which means I was fairly on target with my original estimation of an hour for this course (as the "hook" back into the finish was at least 2 min of a swim so if I stayed on that pace could estimate a 64 min time). The fact that the 25 min cut off wasn't announced until the pre-race meeting made me angry. If I'd known that it existed, I wouldn't have bothered to do the event. And it doesn't really make sense in general... it assumes that the 1.2 mile swimmers should be held to the same minimum pace as the 2.4 mile swimmers. But my guess is that some of us chose the shorter swim because we are slower swimmers. A cut off of 40 min would make more sense (just under half of the whole course time). I also wonder if I hadn't had the problems catching my breath at the beginning if I would have been closer to the cut-off and if they wouldn't have bothered to pull me.

I'm disappointed. I'm frustrated. And I'm also resigned to the outcome. I did get to do my first salt water event. (Chap-stick helped!). I learned that if I want to race more in salt I should train more in salt. I learned that I can push through breathing issues and recover and swim strong. I also learned that my wetsuit chafes more in salt and that deodorant stings on chafed armpits.

I don't know if I'd do this race again. This was the inaugural year, and it was pretty well run-- with the exception of not communicating the course closure times. I clearly won't do it if they keep the same closure times. If they extend them, I would consider going back and finishing what I didn't get to finish this time.

Goggle Fail!

In the spirit of open water swimming, where you want to see whats going on around you both below and above the water, I bought a swim mask to try out. My first swim with it was at Baker Lake. They leaked a bit and I had to adjust them a few times, but I decided to try them again.

The pro is that you can see EVERYTHING. I loved the 180 degree views when we were at Baker. Great for seeing boats. Great for seeing under-water hazards. The water was clear and the view was awesome. The leaking was annoying, but I figured that it was just an adjustment issue and I'd get them to fit eventually.

So I tried them again tonight in Lake Washington. Total Fail. They leaked from the get-go. I spent more time adjusting them than I did swimming. At one point I stopped to fix them and my cap came off. The rest of the swim I had hair in my eyes (I couldn't get the long tendrils back in the cap) and the goggles still leaked!

I tightened the strap a lot. I'm wondering if I did it too much. They never properly suctioned onto my face. I may try them once more, with less tight of a strap. If that doesn't work, they are a no-go.