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?

OR

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):

A SWIM ANGEL 

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.

TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THE WETSUIT BUYING EXPERIENCE

The Danskin Part 1: How to Lose Races and Alienate Swimmers

After several months of *training* (i.e. learning to stay on the bike, running one 5k with a lightning speed 13+ minute mile, and swimming the occasional lap of breast stroke), race weekend had finally arrived.  The whole group of us went to pick up our race packets and get marked for the big day!  It was so exciting!

After getting our packets it was  time to rack our bikes.   We got a chance to check out the course as well.  We went to the water to see the buoys that marked our swim.

My expression immediately went from

to

My trusty friend and unofficial bike coach Patty reassured me:  "It's not far.  It will be fine!  And there will be lifeguards out too!"

I tried to believe her and went home, pushing the impending thoughts of doom the swim as far out of my mind as possible.

The next day we headed out early in the morning, and I was full of vim and vigour!  (Ignorance really *is* bliss).  I stripped down to my swimsuit and met my race buddies!  I looked around and sneered derisively at all the silly girls who had wasted their money on fancy wetsuits.  When it was finally our time to start, we went and stood ankle deep in the frigid water (I'm pretty sure they flew in an Arctic glacier to feed the lake).  Dave managed to snap a picture as my feet were going numb:

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2...