Spun Around

Today at the lake it got ugly. For the first time I am starting to doubt that I can keep doing this. The water was so cold. I felt like the back of my head and neck were going to freeze. I’m reading a book on the brain and PTSD, and just last night I was learning (relearning, cause I once knew this) the different parts of the brain.  As I tried to move forward, focussing on moving my arms and legs to propel me to the place beyond the cement dock, I was trying to remember which parts of my brain were in the place that was freezing and if I was going to hurt myself being in such cold water.  Would the primitive part of my brain even work if I needed a fight-or-flight boost to flee the lake if something bad happened? 

No, it totally wouldn’t. My arms were so cold, like to-the-bone cold. They felt really skinny, which I sort of liked, and I knew they were strong enough to keep working. Usually I forget the cold very quickly. I acclimate, and any painful or unpleasant sensations disappear. I become a seawitch, pressing on and surveying the lake floor and its mess of seaweed. Today I couldn’t do that. 

The water was tossing me around. It was really cold and choppy. The waves weren’t as big as they were yesterday, but I had a much harder time. I tried swimming into the waves, at an angle, parallel to the beach. I couldn’t fall into that easy meditative rhythm that I always find. When I pulled up to see where I was, I wasn’t even close to being past the cement dock. My new swim buddy, K, was off in the distance, seemingly have a much easier time of it than I was. I managed to get myself to the cement dock and do ten pull-ups. It makes me feel like such a badass to do pull-ups. In real life, on try land, I can’t even do one. But water-assisted, it’s not a problem…and it’s still a challenge. I can feel my muscles working, and that makes me feel strong. The wind was whipping on my wet body pretty hard, so that part of it kind of sucked. I sort of wished a video crew was filming so I could have proof that for a few seconds I was rock hard. I also sort of wished I’d stayed home.

I got back in the water, and managed to swim across the swim area (in summer a square area is marked off with ropes, and the east side of the cement block is the end of the area. When I first started swimming back in June or July, I couldn’t make it across the square. I’d stop and cling to the rope and rest, then try to go a bit farther, then find myself totally screwed at the other end because I need more than a rope to stay afloat enough to rest. Desperately treading water at the same time didn’t give me the rest I needed to get back and forth. I quickly figured out I could tie my donut floaty (well, my friends’ floaties) to the rope and use that as a rest station. A friend finally suggested I swim in shallow water so I could stand up when I needed to rest. Duh. Of course. Anyway, I can swim across the area now without a problem, and I can see the underwater cements blocks and buoy markers on the lake floor. If I need to rest when I get there, I cop a float on my swim buoy. 

K was in the distance. Another new swim buddy, A,  was just arriving, so I tried to swim closer into the shallow water to greet her. I pulled up to see where I was twice, and I was no closer to the shallow end. I had to admit to myself that I was struggling, not feeling well, and shouldn’t have tried to swim two days in a row. I still had a headache from yesterday. I’m also struggling with vertigo. I don’t know if that was impacting me in the water, but I felt nauseous and weak. 

I finally managed to get into the shallow water so I could talk to A. Both K and A had wetsuits, as well as neoprene gloves and caps. They were much better equipped (but I stand by my tattered running gloves….they have helped!) I found them on an open swimming Facebook page. I’m always trying to find more women to meet up with for swims. Hoping to eventually have a regular swim time with at least another person a few times a week. 

A went off in her own direction, and I decided to try my usual angled approach into the waves to reach the deep water. I dove back in and made it for a few strokes, but I had to stop. I was weak and nauseous, dizzy, and tired of struggling with the water. I made it to the cement dock and did 10 more pull-ups. Because why not? I tried to swim around the dock, making short attempts to swim out and return. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do because I wanted to quit. 

Then I saw K and A floating at the other end of the square, so I paddled over there to see what they were talking about. K had already gone back to swimming by the time I got there, so A and I talked. I told her I needed to get out because I was sick. She was smart and telling me that maybe it wasn’t good to go two days in a row. We arranged that I’d swim back to the beach, probably seeing K as I did that ‘cause she was heading back to remove her wetsuit and lash it to the post (there are posts in the water that are used for stringing the rope to that separate shallow and deep water; I always bring an extra nylon strap so I can tie stuff to the pole. Maybe I don’t want to wear my swim shoes or I use a cane to get into and out of the water. K was gonna use the strap to hold her wetsuit so she didn’t have to leave the water.)

Part of meeting up with others for swims is having another person there when you get out of the water. Now that summer is over, the beach is isolated, and it’s just not smart to go alone. I didn’t want to let A down by cutting her swim short because I was getting out, but I also knew I couldn’t wait on the beach for her because I didn’t have warm enough gear. We agreed that I’d make my way back to the beach, and find out if K was going to stay for a bit longer so I could leave. I was gonna make a big X with my arms if K also wanted to leave. Then A would know to get out of the water, too. As it happened, I didn’t connect with K, but saw A and K talking in the water as I was getting dressed. So, they would figure out when to leave and have each other and K’s husband for safety post-swim.

I got out of the water fast, and the cold hitting my wet body made me feel head sick. I sat on the beach and put on my fleece while yanking my swimsuit down to my waist. I didn’t give two poops if someone saw my tits; I needed to get warm fast. Then I made my way to the picnic tables where our stuff was and where K’s husband and dog were sitting. “How was it,” he asked.

“Pardon my filthy mouth,” I said, but “holy, fucking shit.” I grabbed my woolly cap and pulled it onto my head, then sat down and managed to get my towel around my waist so I could remove the rest of my suit and pull on my merino capri pants. 

A and K came in, and hurried to their respective bags. A had the most hilarious “gear bag.” A plastic blanket bag with all her warm things, along with a wet sac for her suit and wetsuit. She quickly threw on a terry cloth jumper, then shoved her wet stuff into the bag. K had a gear daypack, and also rushed through remove wet gear and putting on dry. We chatted for a minute, but I had to bolt before the cold set in. 

F. Now I’m at home, bundled into my moth-holed yak wool hoody and a fleece blanket. A shower and warmth clothes hasn’t warmed me up. I’m not sure if I’m a bit sick, if it’s the vertigo….. I definitely need a better plan for when I get out of the water. And I have to get a wetsuit. 

K has the Xterra thermal cap I hope to get, and she had some advice on Blue 70 wetsuits. She found a great fit in hers. 

I’ve been avoiding the wetsuit because I can’t imagine there is one out there that will fit me. I have the longest torso ever.  And everyone says they are hard to remove post-swim. This is way more body trauma than I can handle. I’m still wearing a stretched out old-lady swimsuit I got in Iceland in 2016 because I can’t deal with trying to find a swimsuit that fits…or paying more than $100 for one that’s more likely to fit.  I feel like getting a wetsuit is like a much more stressful outing that shopping for pants and a swimsuit. And then I’ll get stuck in the dressing room because I won’t be able to remove the suit. Then I’ll get really grossed out thinking about all the germs and flakes of dead skin I’m exposing myself to—who else has tried on the suit before me. 

I need to stop writing. I need food. I need hot tea. 

I don’t know what to do. Maybe I need rest for a few days. I think having the wetsuit and apres-swim gear will make a big difference. But if I have to quit and go back to walking for exercise, it’s gonna be because the cold after the swim is too harsh. 

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