Your first open water swim?

In 2002, I had to lay off running for a while due to an injury, so I took to swimming, although just as a lap swimmer, not in any formal masters' group. As a child, I learned to swim in a bay and always enjoyed salt water swimming, when I had the opportunity. But living inland, I had to make do with a pool. In any case, swimming was more a recreation, something I did to recover from running, not my main sport, so doing it instead of running wasn't my idea of fun. I dutifully swam laps, counting them out and was glad to be finished--especially if the pool was crowded. I missed the openness of being out on the roads by myself. I also missed competing in races. Then I found a flyer for a one-mile open water bay swim--this gave me the motivation I needed to work my way up to a mile and also to increase my speed. I still didn't join a masters' group--didn't even know of any available at the time. But the lifeguard at the morning lap swim was a great guy--very friendly, encouraging... a swim instructor and triathlete. So he gave me some helpful advice on my stroke. I'm a slow swimmer now, but I was even slower then--took me about an hour to swim a mile. The previous year's results for the swim I had in mind listed the last place time as 45 minutes. I wasn't looking for fame and fortune, but I did want to finish before they packed up the finish line clock and went home. I finally was able, with some coaching by this lifeguard, to reduce my time to 45 minutes and swim the mile without stopping, which gave me just enough confidence to believe that this thing was possible. But I hadn't accounted for the extra swimming I'd have to do before even starting the race. On race day, I was told the start was next to a boat that appeared to be about 200 yards off shore (but probably was closer--it just seemed that way to this newbie). Some of us had started out toward this boat, but were called back to a swimmers' meeting, then sent out again. By the time I reached the start, they'd blown the air horn and everyone else was underway. It wasn't looking good. But I reminded myself, I'd paid for this race and to get my money's worth, I'd better swim it. Plus, I'd gotten the t-shirt when signing up, and I wasn't going to wear it unless I did the race (it's a pride thing). It would be too bad to let a perfectly good t-shirt go to waste, especially when it didn't look as if I'd be getting any more running t-shirts for a while. So I resolved to keep going until I either finished or someone stopped me for being too slow. Instead of stopping me, though, the kayakers encouraged and cheered me on. They were wonderful! I even passed someone--although he soon caught and passed me again. Even so, it at least reminded me that I wasn't alone out there. After a while, I realized I was enjoying the swim--it was a gorgeous sunny, warm day, and the water felt pleasant--it was a lot more fun than a pool where you keep seeing the same things all the way through your swim. I was getting into it--though I was still happy to be finished... and, it turned out, wasn't even last... second to last... and I've since finished last, although that position doesn't discourage me anymore. I enjoy the outdoors, the variety and surprise of natural water. Whatever my place in any given race, I am grateful to have been able to take part and hope to keep swimming--and running--races.

In 2002, I had to lay off running for a while due to an injury, so I took to swimming, although just as a lap swimmer, not in any formal masters' group. As a child, I learned to swim in a bay and always enjoyed salt water swimming, when I had the opportunity. But living inland, I had to make do with a pool. In any case, swimming was more a recreation, something I did to recover from running, not my main sport, so doing it instead of running wasn't my idea of fun. I dutifully swam laps, counting them out and was glad to be finished--especially if the pool was crowded. I missed the openness of being out on the roads by myself. I also missed competing in races. Then I found a flyer for a one-mile open water bay swim--this gave me the motivation I needed to work my way up to a mile and also to increase my speed. I still didn't join a masters' group--didn't even know of any available at the time. But the lifeguard at the morning lap swim was a great guy--very friendly, encouraging... a swim instructor and triathlete. So he gave me some helpful advice on my stroke. I'm a slow swimmer now, but I was even slower then--took me about an hour to swim a mile. The previous year's results for the swim I had in mind listed the last place time as 45 minutes. I wasn't looking for fame and fortune, but I did want to finish before they packed up the finish line clock and went home. I finally was able, with some coaching by this lifeguard, to reduce my time to 45 minutes and swim the mile without stopping, which gave me just enough confidence to believe that this thing was possible. But I hadn't accounted for the extra swimming I'd have to do before even starting the race. On race day, I was told the start was next to a boat that appeared to be about 200 yards off shore (but probably was closer--it just seemed that way to this newbie). Some of us had started out toward this boat, but were called back to a swimmers' meeting, then sent out again. By the time I reached the start, they'd blown the air horn and everyone else was underway. It wasn't looking good. But I reminded myself, I'd paid for this race and to get my money's worth, I'd better swim it. Plus, I'd gotten the t-shirt when signing up, and I wasn't going to wear it unless I did the race (it's a pride thing). It would be too bad to let a perfectly good t-shirt go to waste, especially when it didn't look as if I'd be getting any more running t-shirts for a while. So I resolved to keep going until I either finished or someone stopped me for being too slow. Instead of stopping me, though, the kayakers encouraged and cheered me on. They were wonderful! I even passed someone--although he soon caught and passed me again. Even so, it at least reminded me that I wasn't alone out there. After a while, I realized I was enjoying the swim--it was a gorgeous sunny, warm day, and the water felt pleasant--it was a lot more fun than a pool where you keep seeing the same things all the way through your swim. I was getting into it--though I was still happy to be finished... and, it turned out, wasn't even last... second to last... and I've since finished last, although that position doesn't discourage me anymore. I enjoy the outdoors, the variety and surprise of natural water. Whatever my place in any given race, I am grateful to have been able to take part and hope to keep swimming--and running--races.