I honestly didn't think the lack of a full closure on my wetsuit would be too bad, but it was. See, I knew there would be a point in the swim when I'd be cold and tired -- or cold and freaked out, tired and freaked out, or cold, tired and freaked out -- and seriously consider calling it a day. But I never imagined it would be in the first 30 seconds.
Despite wanting to call out for my mommy and go into a fetal tuck, I pressed forward. I had counted to 10 before entering the water because I had heard all the horror stories of getting goggles kicked off your face or taking a knee to the head when you go balls out at the start of the race. So I figured my 10 count would provide me with a nice cushion between me and the rest of the pack and I'd be able to concentrate on my stroke and breathing (and not think about it feeling like someone was continuously dropping ice down the back of my shirt). But it turns out I'm a better swimmer than a lot of people, because within about 30 seconds I found myself amongst a pack of flailing triathletes, seemingly swimming for their lives.
But instead of trying to strategically weave my way through the pack -- did I mention the visibility in the water was pretty much zero? -- I stopped and treaded water for a second to get my bearings. This was a mistake, mostly because in a lake, there's no wall to push off from, no bottom to stand on and no side to grab onto.
After a second of panic, I decided to test the buoyancy of the wetsuit and rolled over onto my back. And then I floated. It could have been 10 seconds or 10 minutes (I still don't know), but I needed to stop, catch my breath and calm myself down. As I lay there floating, looking up at the dull, gray sky, I thought of how disappointed in myself I'd be if I gave up, so I rolled back over and said, "Fuck it." And then I swam. I did the breast stroke, the freestyle, the dog paddle, the side stroke, and maybe a couple of other strokes that technically haven't been invented yet. But I wasn't about to quit. And I now also knew I wasn't about to drown, so I had that going for me, too.
Quick interlude ... Something anyone who has done an open water swim in competition will tell you is, "Don't forget to sight." What this means is, preferably before the race starts, pick out a large, static object on the opposite shore and swim toward it, which will keep you on a relatively straight line.
And back ... So in lieu of risking a concussion or a kick to the velveties, I decided to just hold my position in the pack I was in and eventually we'd all end up back on shore. Unfortunately, I forgot about the whole "sighting" thing and looked up after about a minute to find myself a good 25 yards off-course. I think at this point I actually yelled, "Fuuuuuuuuck!" and proceeded to blame the people in front of me for leading me so far off-course.
Regardless of whose fault it really was (ok. ok, it was my own fault!), I carried on. And on. And on. Thankfully, I wasn't the only person having a rough swim and several of us trudged along together like a pod of dolphins born without flippers. Finally, I made it back to shore, but then had to run my ass up a short hill to the transition area, where my bike was wondering what the hell was taking me so long....
Next time: The Bike: MORE Equipment Malfunctions?!
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