Thursday, January 20, 2011

The Danskin Part 2: How to Destroy Months of Work in One Hour

As we started the swim I realized what a HUGE MISTAKE I had made.

As the waves (and an inordinately large number of arms and legs) came crashing over me, all attempts at "technique" went out the window.

Look familiar?

After rounding the first buoy I booked it over to the first floating lifeguard station I could get my hands on.  My friend Molly was close behind me.  By this time, I had developed a lovely stitch in my side.  Molly tried to help me stretch while holding onto the surfboard.

It was...tricky.

By then, my superhuman ability to drop my core temperature to ABSOLUTE ZERO had activated!

(It's an innate talent, really.  I can't take credit for it.)

I knew that I now had two options:

Option A:
Move my body.

We can call that swimming, right?  I mean, technically speaking?


Option B:
Turn into a fully-formed swimsicle.

There was no Option C.  Wanna know why? (You know you do.)  Because...

 (That'll be really funny in a minute).

I bid Molly adieu,

and after only a few short strokes, I saw (cue trumpets):


No really, that's what the swimming-in-the-water lifeguards are called.

She let me grab onto a piece of noodle and kick along with her while she chatted with me to make sure she did not just sign up to become the Titanic.  I gotta say though, it's tough to exchange banter with lock jaw (seriously, if you haven't seen me with a plummeting body temperature, it's a sight to behold).

While this method literally kept me from drowning (no hyperbole here), it had to be the longest way to "swim" through the water.  In fact, I'm pretty sure they had to truck in a second glacier to keep that water nice and *refreshing* just for li'l ol' me.

Much to my surprise, we finally made it to shore.  I walked out to see Dave upfront and centre with the trusty camera to record this spectacular pathetic moment for posterity.  The following are based on actual pictures he took of the end of my swim:

Coming out of the water:

Being approached by a concerned fellow racer (and total stranger):

Falling out of the frame:

Dontcha love rapid fire cameras?

There are no more actual photos of me, but I remember being *really* drawn to the uh, lush and inviting patch of grass right in front of Dave, which is where I was headed during that last picture,

and deciding to sit down for "just a minute" to regain my strength for the bike.

A couple of people came over to offer support:

as well as a ride:

All I can say is:  hypothermia's a bitch.



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