“Pretty good” is how I would describe my training so far. I
feel stronger then ever on the bike, my running is progressing, and my pool
swims have been fabulous. I am up to 4km-plus swims, multiple times a week.
Everything is falling into place…right? Uh, not exactly. I had a major set
back. I am still a little in shock, and sorting out how serious this is. I have begun to question whether or not
I will be able to complete my training and compete in Louisville.
Last night my friend Marc and I met up at Lake Wilcox for a
2k swim. We have done a few 2kers together, but all were last year. This was my
first lake swim of the season, I was excited about getting into my wetsuit
again – it makes me feel like an athlete. I struggled to pull the neoprene
rubber over my body because the day was very hot, and my skin was sticky, it
was hard to do. I pulled, and tugged and finally said “good enough”. I had a
few butterflies in my stomach but that was to be expected. This was my first
lake swim of the season, after all. As we walked to the lake’s edge I kept
pulling on my suit trying to get more movement in my shoulders.
We entered the water and I dove under. It felt great. As we
headed out, my wetsuit tightened across my chest and around my neck. I stopped
and, as I treaded water, I tried to pull it up to get more slack. I told Marc
that I was fine, I was just getting used to the suit. We started swimming
again, and again I stopped. The suit’s constricting nature was beginning to
affect my breathing. I apologized to Marc. His typically good natured reply and
reassuring comments seemed to give me confidence. The fact that I had swam this
lake before also kept me going, as we headed out further and further.
We were now in the middle of the lake, and my heart rate was
getting out of control. I told Marc, “I’ve had it. I’m heading back”. I didn’t
tell him that fear had started to set in. At this point, I was completely unable
to control my breathing and panic was beginning to consume me. The shore looked
very far away in every direction. Every time I put my face in the water I could
feel a pounding in my chest. I could hear funny sounds as I exhaled – gurgling
sounds. The winds were picking up and the waves were getting bigger.
I began to think about the hours and hours I had spent in
the pool over the past many months. “I am strong,” I kept telling myself. “You
can do this, just stay calm.” Every effort to slow my breathing down had failed,
so I decided to roll onto my back. I was totally embarrassed and felt like a
loser, but figured I could do the backstoke all the way back to shore if I had
to. The waves were splashing over my open mouth and I began to choke on the water.
Coughing, I stopped again. “CALM DOWN CARMEN,” I screamed in my head over and
over, but nothing was working. I felt like I was choking, and I couldn’t breathe.
The next thing I knew, I was yelling at Marc: “HELP ME, HELP ME, GET THIS SUIT
OFF”. Marc raced over and grabbed the pull cord that was attached to my zipper
and pulled.
Cold water filled the space between my wetsuit and my
bathing suit, and then my heart went up even higher. “Oh shit,” were the first
words in my head. “Hypothermia”, was the next. I dismissed the thought, happy
to expand my lungs, even if it was just a little. I was able to pull out my
arms and wiggle the suit off to my hips. I figured I shouldn’t take it all off,
I just wanted to get more air. With one half of the wetsuit hanging off my hips,
I tried again. This time I tried the front crawl, but the weight and drag of
the suit made any effort even harder than before, so my heart rate soared. At
that moment I knew I had run out of options. Then, in the distance I saw a
small buoy. I told Marc that I could make it.
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The buoy was only a foot and half square, so I grabbed onto one side while Marc grabbed onto the
other. “Marc, I can’t do this, I
can’t control my breathing”. I had
now started coughing from the water I had ingested, and the shore looked like
it was million miles away. A few
moments passed and, as we hung on, my heart rate finally slowed down. I decided
I was confidant enough to start out again. I also felt like I had little
choice, it was raining and the lake was virtually empty. We swam for a few minutes and I stopped
again.
There is really nothing in life that could have prepared me
for the feeling that was coming over me. I was now in full panic mode. I
finally understand why people who can swim, drown. The thought of drowning was
now a seed that had taken root in my head. I looked back at the buoy and it felt too far away. I looked
at the shore and it felt impossible. I was hyperventilating, and the thought of
dying was in my head.
At that moment, I saw a small motorboat headed in our
general direction. I waved and scream as loudly as I could: “HELP!”. He kept
going, so I screamed again with everything I had. Then Marc started screaming: “HELP…
STOP… OVER HERE!”.
I am not sure what would have happened if that boy in the
motorboat hadn’t finally heard us and stopped. I know that I never want to feel
that helpless again. The mind is a strange and powerful thing. I am physically capable of
swimming that lake at least twice over, but I guess my brain had missed the
memo.
So, it is back to the therapist – back to baby steps. I just
hope I that there is enough time between now and August to let my brain catch
up to my body.
P.S. Thanks Marc, you literally saved me last night!
