From sea to shining sea

It's getting later in the year and it's time for me to buck it up and do one more open water swim before the water turns to, well, semi chilled (this IS Texas). Sometime in October I've got to wrestle into the wetsuit and go paddle around the lake to prove to myself that fresh lake water is NOT scary.

What is it about open water swims that freaks us all out (okay, most of us)? I mean, I grew up swimming in either the Gulf of Mexico or the bays behind my house in Baytown. The community pool was fun, sure, but you couldn't sail or water ski or have dock diving competitions (for people, not dogs, although my friend Keith's black lab was constantly jumping off with us). I spent literally thousands of hours in the open water, and never had one minute of worry or problem. I experienced a jellyfish sting or two (uncomfortable but not a major deal), and hundreds of encounters with slimey undergrowth, fish, shells, rocks, sticks and nasty dirty dark water.

So why is it when I suit up for an open water swim that my heart races, my mouth goes dry, and I pray to the Water Gods that I just make it through so I can screw up the race on my bike? Even the little short pool swims that I do for some sprint tris get me more nervous than any other element in the race.

And I do know how to swim. I swim pretty well--okay, I swim pretty SLOW, but I am not going to drown, not even if three thousand Macedonians in full battle gear jump on top of me. I'm more likely to lay down the bike or to trip during the run than I am to go to Davy Jone's locker (or even his attic) during a swim.

Of course, most of it's mental. We know, in the deepest recesses of our minds, that we can swim 400-1500-2100-3000 yards out in the bounding blue. We know we won't drown, or get eaten by a shark, or attacked by piranha. We know we won't choke on water and sink (just trying sinking in a wetsuit, it's next to impossible), and if we get a bad cramp or become exhausted, a resuce kayak is right there for us, and we can float nicely on our backs while waiting for one. WE KNOW.

Still, we manage to go into panic mode on the open water swim. I'm sure seasoned and hardened triathletes with hundreds of races under their fuel belts get the same flutterbies as we novices do, peering out at that impossibly far first buoy on the horizon. They just are too smart to say so.

So, I have come up with some things that have helped me quiet the open water dragons in my head.

1. Practice swimming in open water. D-oh. Of course, the more you do it, the less weird it's going to feel. It's not convenient, because you have to have a buddy along, and you need to wear your wetsuit (if you are going to race in one) and putting THAT on takes a herculean effort, and you have to get in the car and drive to a lake or ocean that has a reasonable place for people to get in and out of, and you are subject to the weather and wind and speedboats full of people drinking. I know all about those things. Do it anyway.

2. Realize your wetsuit is going to feel tight and learn to live with it. Of course, tight doesn't mean literally choking you to death, but it's going to feel quite snug under your arms, on your chest, and around your neck. You will initially think you can't breathe or move in the thing. You will be wrong, so you need to get used to it. The suit will loosen up slightly once you get in the water. If it's too loose, though, it will cause drag and keep you from being warm, which is the opposite purpose of a wetsuit. Don't put on your wetsuit for the first time the morning of your race!

3. Learn to sight and practice it often. Start in the pool. The best way IMO is to "Tarzan swim" for a few strokes--poke your head 2/3 of the way out of the water (I keep my mouth underneath it, because if I lift up further than that I start to flail, but my eyes and nose are dry) and keep on stroking, turning and breathing but use the time when your eyes are face forward to see where you are. I do a four to six stroke Tarzan after about every 10-12 strokes. The more you practice this, the more natural it will feel. I found out that switching to a breast stroke or a dog paddle in order to sight is a huge energy and time waster.

4. Break the swim into segments. Swim from buoy to buoy. I look at a swim map and mark out the approximate distances to each buoy. Surely you can swim 400 yards to the first buoy. After that, let each segment take care of itself. This isn't as easy with an out and back as it is with a three legged course, but it will still work.

5. Do NOT look behind you, or at the shore for any reason until you are headed back to it. No reason to freak your little mind out about how far away you are from terra firma. Focus on the next buoy and nothing else.

6. Start slow and behind, but not TOO far behind. It's good advice to let the fast pack start ahead of you, but don't dawdle on the shore forever because then you will never, ever catch up and you will feel very alone out there. There is comfort in numbers, even though they may be trying to kick you in the head. Start to one side and count to three when the gun goes off and then start swimming. You will let the wild fast people get out there past you, but still feel like you are not the last of the Mohicans.

7. Learn to protect your space. Even if you start out at the end, chances are you may end up with a group washing machine anyway, especially if you are not in the last wave to start. I learned quickly to be prepared to kick and flail my arms in a crowd and I swear, people stay away when you do that. Maybe you create enough bubbles for them to steer away from. You gotta get a bit territorial in your head to make this work. Don't let anyone bully you by running into you. I landed a good kick to the upper arm of a young man who didn't think he needed to watch where he was going. He immediately gave me a wide berth. Meow!

8. HAVE FUN. Channel that inner child during the swim. Sing, hum, blow bubbles, enjoy the feeling of moving easily through soft water. The rest of the race is going to be a lot of pounding. Here you can enjoy a bit of relaxation!

Get out there before the weather changes--and be a fish!