The Tiki Swim....2.4 miles in the ocean!

The Tiki Swim

I first saw the Tiki swim ad around the time I did IM Oceanside 70.3. After I finished the race and had a little taste of almost ocean swimming complete with swells and realized I might just be able to do this. I held off though because I never swam IN the ocean and the breaks scared the daylights out of me. Later that year I learned how to swim in the ocean thanks to a really supportive group of triathletes through Team Solana. I participated in my first ocean triathlon, The Solana Beach Triathlon. It was incredible. I fell in love with ocean swimming. I was still a little spooked at times but with more experience I felt it less and less. After Solana, I decided to go for this Tiki swim- the 1.2 miler one. The 1.2 mile seemed WAY out of my comfort zone but I like to challenge myself.

I joined a morning ocean swim group and went on occasion. They were incredible. They were patient enough to swim with me as I was the slowest. My pool time is significantly faster than my ocean time. I am still learning the ocean and still a little hesitant. These guys were so supportive and always inviting me back.

The Friday before Tiki, I swam with my group. We had the craziest surf. I got knocked over just standing there in a foot of water. We made it in and had a great time. Exiting was a challenge but we made it in with the right timing. I have never swam in surf like that so I was happy to have experienced that. I didn’t want any surprises on Tiki day.

That night I keep thinking that maybe I should consider doing the full 2.4 mile swim. Not sure where it came from but it kept creeping into my head. Each time I felt more confident that I just might pull it off. Of course when my cerebrum got involved, I would remind myself that the furthest pool swim I have done is 3500, “flat” open water 1.2 miles and ocean…well…um… maybe 1 mile. Which was based on estimates. So 2.4 miles, really? 1.2 is a stretch and still out of my comfort zone. I was feeling relaxed about the 1.2 mile swim. There was plenty of time to complete it and I wasn’t worried at all. I saw it as a nice Sunday morning ocean fun swim. I could keep it like this and go in without any stress and enjoy it. So why do I keep thinking about the 2.4? I have nothing to prove to myself. I will do it one day soon.

I email my coach and see what she thinks. I’m sure she will encourage me but she also knows what I have done and not done so I anticipate more of a “great idea….maybe in a few months.” So then that will settle it for me and I can move on with the 1.2.  She totally encouraged me. She “likes the challenge.”  I do too but is this unrealistic? Am I going to fail and feel awful? Am I going to get spooked? I heard stories about distance swimmers experiencing glycogen depletion, hallucinating and getting spooked. I have done this on runs and really do not want to do this in the ocean as I may panic. Under no circumstance can I be vulnerable in the ocean.

So packet pickup is on Saturday. My cerebrum has taken over my thought process and I have pretty much talked myself out of it. Not completely but I want someone else to decide for me as I wasn’t ready to ax this idea. The organizers may not even let me change this late so the answer is final. I get to Oceanside and look down from the pier to the harbor. That is REALLY far. I’m sure at packet pickup they will say no. In fact, I really hope they do.

I arrive at packet pickup and one of my morning swim friends, Patti is there volunteering. It’s great to see her.

“You all won’t let me upgrade to the 2.4 this late, right?” I ask.

“Of course you can! You should totally do it!!!”

Everyone at the both encourages me. I remind Patti that she has in fact been swimming with me and does she remember how slow I am. She tells me yes but that’s okay. I will be fine. Then I run into Chuck, the organizer of our morning swim group and the one who often swims with my slow ass. He encourages me too and I also remind him of my slowness. He says to do it anyway and I will be fine. Patti reminds me to swim the pace I swim with them the whole time. I am never tired after our swims.

I take a deep breath and tell them yes committing myself to the 2.4. I sign the additional waiver and get the green swim cap.

Shit what did I just do? This whole song and dance was also in front of my daughter. So I couldn’t back out now. What would she think? I now go from thinking this is a fun little Sunday swim to oh shit! I have never done this before! What if I get fished out? What if I get spooked? What if I don’t finish in 2:20? What if I die? What if there are weird sea creatures? Most of all though, what happens in the open water after 1.2 miles? The unknown scared me most. I have run marathons. What is the equivalent of mile 19 and what do I do out there? What can I expect? I have not trained for this.

I email my coach and she of course gives me excellent feedback. Stay hydrated, eat well before and go slowly. And even if I don’t finish at least I tried. That’s true. I will at least make it to the aid station (a bit over 1.2 miles) and will have achieved my original goal. There is a way out if needed. Of course, I would never give up but it was comforting to know this. It was comforting that I could go into this and not beat the crap out of myself for not making the time cutoff. I can embrace that what I was doing was pretty cool.

That night I went through my race prep anxiety induced ritual.

Alarm goes off. Swim day.

*Gulp*

shit.

Swim day.

It will be fun. Yes, it will be fun. I love the ocean. I will swim slowly and enjoy the peace and have a hell of a story after.

I ate 600 calories at breakfast and it was WAY too much food. I ran out of Carbo Pro a few weeks ago and didn’t have any left. I took some of my breakfast on the road to Oceanside and tried to finish at the start. I ended up throwing out my pancake and drinking my electrolytes. I am soooo full.

I arrive at the pier. It’s chilly. I’m worried about hypothermia and remind myself it is not winter. I take a big breath and get out of the car and walk to the pier. I see friends from Team Solana. Very nice. Best of all I see Al, the triathlete who was my swim buddy when I learned how to ocean swim in June.  He is the one who taught me. I am forever grateful to him. I immediately go to him and anxiously ask if there is anything I should know. In his calm demeanor he says, “yes, one arm in front of the other. That’s all.” Somehow that calms me. Later he tells me about arriving near the harbor. He tells me I will smell all of this wonderful food and get really hungry only to find that I have further to swim in the harbor but it is worth it. I see Patti, always a wonderful face to see. I’m still here and I didn’t back out.

A few minutes to start. I have major nausea and fear. That buoy is REALLY far. I have only gone a bit past the breakers but NEVER THAT far. There are boats out there. This is way past the pier. My hands are shaking- a combination of fear and my albuterol.

Breathe.

I remember how much I love being out there past the break and remind myself of the relaxing swim.

We line up. I go back and forth. Where to start? Which side? I am not afraid of the group so I start as close to side of the buoy near the pier. The race director tells us it is okay to wait a few minutes for the surf. Oh yes the surf. That is kinda crazy. In fact those waves are giant and rough. I won’t go there. I remind myself how much I like diving under waves. It will be fine.

Time to go.

I have work to do.

Get out, turn and swim slowly and peacefully one buoy at a time, one arm in front of the other.

First wave, too small to dive, strong, make it over it.

Next one, big, dive.

Another.

Water is nothing but foam and here comes another.

Meanwhile it feels like total survival around me, yet I am fairly comfortable and very focused. Everyone is in groups instructing each other when to dive. One person is freaking out. I want to help her. She is with other people helping her and if I don’t dive now I get thrown back to the beach.

Go!

I make it but this is long. I want to come up for air but it’s still dark. Must be a double. I come up in foam and there is one more.

And I’m down.

I have work to do.

I start swimming which is nice. I look back and I must be past the breaks. The shore is pretty far and the waves behind me are huge. I turn back and see one big one coming starting to break. Really? Okay I guess I’m not past the breaks.

I still have work to do. This one isn’t as powerful. A few more and I am finally out. Still big swells but no more diving. One swell was big enough that I dropped down and felt my breakfast shift. Oh no, I am going to puke in the water. I have never done that. Gross. Please no. Please no. It’s just a burp. Yuck.  Well at least it’s not in a pool and no one can hear me. Why did I eat so much food? Note to self: Always have Carbo Pro in stock at home.

Then I see a guy hanging onto the lifeguard board.  “Poor guy. That really sucks.” I think to myself. He’s tired out so early. He has a long way to go. I’m mentally tired from the breakers but know I can relax for a while.

I sight on the blue house at the end of the pier. It looks relatively close to the first buoy. Making progress. I look up and why is the buoy that far to my … LEFT! And really far away? WTF? No more sighting on the pier. I am getting moved over way  too far. So I try to sight on the bouy which is REALLY far and barely visible at times. It takes what seems like an eternity to get there. I see a group there so I know it’s possible. I finally reach it and look back. I am REALLY far out. Cool. The pier is a long way from here. This buoy is huge, why is it s hard to see? I make my turn and time to do the long swim. I’m ready. I’m happy and at peace.

I barely see the next buoy and try to sight on something else. Maybe the hotel? I swim and realize the lifeguard is close to my right reminding me to move back out. I see that I am closer to the pier. It is discouraging. He kindly tells me he does it all the time.

Most of the swim was about where to sight. If it was too general there was so much room for going off course but the buoys were too far away. About halfway through I had a guard to my left. He was going in the same direction. I was getting a little frustrated at where to sight and I had to breathe to my left to avoid the sun. He helps me by pointing to where I need to sight. I just want to reach the aid station to reset my brain. I’m having fun but this sighting is the hardest I have ever done. IM Oceanside had a LOT of bouys and the water was fairly flat. It was super easy to sight. The TCSD aquathlon was easier to sight. I think I was so far out in such open water where I could go in the wrong line yet still remain in the general direction. I need to add this to my list of things to improve.

I finally see the green buoy in the distance. There are two green ones on the course, one for the aid station a little over halfway through and the one to turn into the harbor. Green, good. I can see that and I can see the outrigger which is the aid station. Easy to sight.

What time is it? I have been out here for a while. The cutoff is 2:20. I really want to make the cutoff. In fact, I have developed some attachment to that even though I went in without a time attachment. I am visualizing the course map in my head. The whole way out I estimated the aid station at 1.2 miles. It is at the turn for the 1.2 mile swimmers. So really it is more than half way. I tried really hard to proportionally measure the lines in my head to get a better estimate of where I was. Was it 20% of the 1.2 miler course? I digress and I am off course again. Focus on the swim and who cares where the aid station is.

I get close to the aid station and am thirsty. I also see this as the line between the known and the unknown. I have never gone beyond 1.2 miles in the open water. I am pensive but not afraid. I really want to know the time. The volunteer tells me it is 8:44. She says I have 45 min to the finish. Really? No I have 1:05 to the cutoff. Hmm. I am not liking the time. If I am halfway then I just swam a VERY slow 1.2 mile. Crap. I know I swam way off course but it doesn’t matter. I have to take that into account with my time. Well, if the next part is not as long which I doubt it will be because I do not have to deal with surf, then…

Wait.

I can see the harbor from here! I can see the green buoy! I see the rock jetty. It’s still far but I can SEE it. The volunteer tells me to sight on the “dorito.” That passes right over my head. I have no idea what she said or meant. Whatever.

I have work to do.

Let’s go!

At this point the lifeguard is floating along with me on his board. I ask him if that is in fact the green bouy in and he says no. What do you mean no? It IS the green buoy. So it looks like it is on a stick.  He says to sight on the orange buoys. I can barely see them and they are far to the right of the green what-seems-to-be a buoy. There are a few. Oh wait there is an orange buoy with a yellow tip. Ahh the Dorito. That is what she meant back there. Okay. Got it.

I sight on the buoy but I am still fixated on the green thing that looks like a buoy. I don’t like that I am NOT sighting on this. If it’s not the buoy, then what is it?

I know this part is the unknown but this is also the very well known. I swam in the harbor for IM Oceanside to the end of the jeddies. I know that inlet. What is that damn green thing? It is at the very tip of the jeddi on a pole. So if that is NOT the green buoy where is it? I see more orange bouys ahead of the dorito. Damn. I see the harbor and it teases me. I think I am nearing the end of the swim only to look up and feel like I have gone nowhere.

The lifeguard tells me to just sight on him. I do for a while. I try to get out of this head space and I do this successfully. I pick up the pace and start enjoying “punching” the swells. The swells are bigger here. I am swimming harder feeling all of my power in my arms, core and hips. It’s a wonderful rhythm. The guard is next to me and I don’t have to sight.

I get closer, pass a few more buoys and now I am realizing time is running out.

I DO NOT WANT TO BE DISQUALIFIED.

I DO NOT WANT TO BE FISHED OUT OF THE WATER.

I interrupt those feelings and remind myself how far I am. If I can just get to the inlet of the harbor then I can be fished out. Just let me get there and I will be happy with my distance and accomplishments. I don’t need a medal today. I just want to accomplish my goal or come close. I already have. I’m okay.

For now.

Behind me I see the aid station outrigger coming in. I see someone towing the buoys. Damn I really am last.

Again, I think of what I have accomplished. I remind myself of how strong I am, how I go for things even if the odds are against me. Then…

Screw that. I am tired of being the strong determined one…who comes in near last. Sure I know I have courage and all that crap but

I AM SICK OF BEING SLOW.

I pick up my speed. I punch through the water. I look up and see the Oceanside sign. I’m IN the harbor. I am in very familiar territory. The unknown is behind me. Now I race the clock.

Déjà vu. I did this in IM Oceanside too. It was all about racing the clock and assuming I was dead last and would be fished out of the water. My lifeguard to the left is saying something. I stop and see what he is saying. He tells me he is talking to them and points to the lifeguards to my right. I had been breathing to my left most of the time so I never saw them. I look to my right and wow!!! Right next to me are three VERY young lifeguards. Hmmm….I should give them a little space. It’s awkward. They are SOOO young. How can their mothers let them out here? They must be close to my daughter’s age.  How proud their mothers must be of them. They must be excellent swimmers. Good kids.

I am turning into the last part of the harbor. My left sided lifeguard is heading in and I can’t cross him to go to the buoy. I ask him what is happening and tell him I need to go to the buoy. He is almost blocking me. He says not to worry about it and look over at the dock and sight there. That’s the finish. All I see is a boat. Oh I see. I get fished out at the boat before the finish. I point to the boat and he says yes.

I was starting to be resigned to the idea of getting fished out but I was so close to finishing I just wanted to complete the damn swim no matter what the time. I was ready to negotiate. I WILL keep swimming. I am not exiting early at some boat. He points again and asks if I can see the yellow bouy and boat launch. Yes I can. That’s the finish. Wait that boat. The boat that was fishing me out. Where is it? It’s behind me! I swam past it. There’s the finish! He looks at his watch. I look at him. He tells me to sprint now. Excellent.

I go for it as hard as I can. I last 6 stokes and

Oh my god!

My arms are full of lactic acid. I slow back down and that’s better. No, he said sprint. I tried again. Crap. I think I’m depleted. I felt fine the whole way, never really tired just mentally busy. I hear people cheering. It reminds me of my finish at Oceanside. I look at the dock to my right and see someone who looks like James. I wonder if he made it back in time form his race. It’s not him. 

I feel good and see the boat launch. It is a radically different day from Oceanside. I am NOT getting fished out. I am finishing and the sun is shining. Holy crap! I just swam 2.4 miles!!! IN THE OCEAN!

I see the volunteer there ready to help me out of the water. I swim right until I touch the bottom of the ramp, step up and take his hand. This time I let him help me. Last time I refused during as a result of pride and a minor hallucination.

I jogged up the mat to cross the finish and feel great. Wow, much better than IM Oceanside where I could not feel my legs. I see Patti, the woman in my swim group and Tiki volunteer. She places the Tiki finishers ribbon around me and gives me a hug. I did it!!!!

The group is saying there is still another swimmer out there. What? No I am the last one. I saw the bouys being pulled in. IS there really another swimmer out there? I’m not last? I leave that thought.

I run to the bathroom to pee and return to see the last finisher coming in. Everyone is cheering loudly. I want to find the lifeguard and thank him. I cheer the finisher in and start to cry. She looks exhausted. She hobbles up the ramp. Good job! I spot my lifeguard and run over to thanks him. His name s Ryan.

The chatter among friends and other swimmers is that the first bouy took forver and they too got off course. They measured the distance at 2.9miles. They also said this was the hardest surf they have ever experienced even after doing hundreds of ocean swims. This was by far the worst.

So I may have swam beyond 2.4 miles.

I made it through the surf and really didn’t find it hard, just very challenging.

I welcomed it and honestly I liked it.

The next day I looked at the results.

I was not last, there were two others after me.

I made the cutoff time with a couple of minutes to spare.