Day One - Struggling through the Swim

I woke up this morning, a little bit sore form my "weekend warrior" workouts, but really excited that it was Day One of Ironman Augusta training.  I had a good breakfast and checked my training plan - 1600m swim.  Okay, I can do that, I thought.

I messaged Pete, asking about what, exactly, tomorrow's "heavy legs" weight lifting entailed, and told him that I was excited to start training for another shot at 70.3.  Pete replied "the schedule I gave you starts next week."  Oops!  I laughed, and then decided I would do "Week One" twice, and deemed today the beginning of a new race.

I sat in my chair, racking my brain and thinking about Team In Training.  I sent Chad a message, asking what he thought about me signing up to raise money for Augusta.  He said "it's up to you."  I hit the registration button.  I cannot seem to help myself.  My goal is to raise $2,500 this season.  If you would like to make a donation, please visit my personal website:  http://pages.teamintraining.org/sun/Augusta13/megansuper

This November marks my 15th year of remission.  To celebrate, I will TRI - simply because I can, and because I want to find a way for others to as well.

When I left work this evening, I noticed it was not quite as warm as I had originally thought.  Boy, I am glad I brought my wetsuit, said my brain.  I drove to Dunedin, to meet my group for one last swim lesson with Coach Lora.  We stood around and moaned for a bit about how chilly it was, and then noticed that the kayaks were in the water and coach Lora was looking at us.  Guess we're getting in, haha!

It was with much trepidation that I entered the water.  I am, by far, the slowest in the class, and I hated that I would be so far behind.  Regardless, I adjusted my goggles, put my head down, and started swimming towards the group of trees Coach Lora pointed to as our turn around.  It was SO FAR AWAY.  I tried swimming as fast as I could, which isn't fast.  At all.  The current was with us, pushing us along, but it still took me a good 12 minutes to get to the trees, where everyone was waiting.  Once I arrived, I heard "Okay, let's head back!"  Wait!  I just got here!

I took a deep breath, and headed back towards the cars.  The water was choppy, and I kept ingesting salt water.  It was gross.  I thought about how I should've brought a soda with me, to wash out the taste, and then got another mouthful of salt water.  I gagged a bit, and then started thinking about how fish poop in the water, and all I could think about was how gross that is.  Somehow my thoughts turned to the presence of sharks, so I started kicking harder, hoping that the commotion would keep the marine life at bay.  I later learned that sharks have sonar senses, and that they are attracted to "thrashing."  Awesome.  

I looked up, and the group was nowhere in sight.  Sigh.  

It was at this point I seriously contemplated quitting, just wading to shore and walking back on the beach.  All of a sudden, Sue was beside me, talking to me and encouraging me to keep going.  I asked her if I could stop.  She said no, not yet, we're almost there.  I was trying really hard to swim in a non-embarrassing fashion, but being clad in a latex wetsuit lagging behind every other person, well . . . yeah.  I was near tears, struggling to make any kind of progress.  It was then that I heard Tom's voice, saying "hey, Megan!  great to see you out here.  Keep going, you're doing great."  

I took another deep breath, grateful for Sue and Tom, and refused to give up.  I kept at it, and eventually I grabbed a hand full of sea grass as I entered the group circle.  Everyone cheered, which kind of made me want to cry again, because I am such a terrible swimmer.  I did say "I'm done, I'm not doing it again tonight."  I made it 1000 yards - very shy of the 1600 I was supposed to have done.  Coach gave us some more pointers, told me that I am doing good, I just need to be patient with myself.  Easier said than done, of course, but I will keep going, because there's no other option.  

And so I swim . . . .