Fear of the Water

(Demotivational poster from despair.com--check out their site for plenty more like this.)

This morning, I received a reminder of what it's like to be a frightened beginner in the water.

• What it's like to feel short of breath.  
• What it's like to feel the uncomfortable pressure of the water pushing on my chest.  
• What it's like to feel like I was being pulled downward; struggling to stay on the surface.
• What it's like to feel too far from the shore.
• What it's like to wonder, really wonder, whether this is a good idea...

This morning was the opening day of BAM morning swims at the Boulder Reservoir.  There was some difference in opinion about water temperature--the guy at the gate said 49 or 50 degrees but I doubt it was that cold.  Mid-'50s seems like a reasonable guess.  The air temp was probably in a similar range or cooler and cloud cover kept the sun from doing it's thing.  Let's just say it was uncomfortably cold.

In preparation for this summer's Horsetooth 10k swim, today was my first day of cold-water acclimatization training.  Wetsuits aren't allowed in this event and water temps are typically in the '60s.  I'll spend around two and a half hours in the water at that event--maintaining core temp is critical to success.  I'm not breaking new ground by stating that the human body is an amazing thing.  Among its many capabilities is its ability to adjust to longer exposure to cold water if you gradually train it to do so.

My initial plan was not to bring a wetsuit at all, but I grabbed it this morning before leaving.  The new plan was to get in and swim a few laps to warm up in the suit and then swim one lap without.  I pulled on the suit and waded in.  It was cold on my toes, but the suit shielded my legs from the true temp of the rez.  I gathered my courage and splashed some water on my face and neck.  It was cold--took my breath away a little--but manageable.  A few more splashes to prime myself and then into the water to start swimming the first ~600 meter loop.

The first thing I noticed was the cold on my face, but it wasn't too bad.  Suddenly, my hands were on fire--I don't ever remember them hurting so much from the cold.  I stood up and rubbed them together and took a minute plunging them back into the water, holding them there until the pain hit me, pulling them back out, and repeating.

Another start and after a few dozen strokes, I rolled over onto my back to try to relieve the pain on my face.  A little treading water to reset my brain (and my resolve) at the first buoy (still along the shoreline) and then I headed out.  My suit kept everything it covered pretty comfortable but I was very aware of everything that was exposed as it all began to numb up.  I knew I just needed to wait out that painful time between cold and numb and it finally came by the end of the first lap.

After the second lap, I was feeling comfortable in the water.  I actually thought to myself, "This isn't so bad.  It'll be fine when I pull the wetsuit off."  So I pulled the wetsuit off, left it on the shore and waded back in.  I could definitely feel the cold hit me but I was still convinced it wasn't that bad.  This is not a water temp you want to stand around in--I started swimming right away.

The first thing I noticed was not the cold but the huge difference a good wetsuit makes.  I was riding much lower in the water.  I checked my stroke--looked and felt good, but I was moving much slower.  Then the pins and needles started on my chest, back, legs.  To be expected--I was alive with the discomfort.

All of the sudden, the water felt thick and I had a strong and disorienting sensation of being pulled down.  I kept swimming but was quickly losing feeling in most of my body and my brain was running away from me.

I was breathing every stroke and was getting enough air, but I felt short of breath anyhow.  The pressure on my torso was intense and the feeling of being pulled down was pervasive.  As I rounded the first buoy, I thought twice about heading away from shore.  Even though I didn't feel like I was in control of my arms and legs, I knew they were doing their thing.  I could hear my kick even though I couldn't really feel my feet anymore.  I could see my arms recovering and I was moving forward.  Everything was on autopilot except my brain.

I am a confident swimmer, but I don't take that for granted.  I've been around the water enough to respect it.  Water is heavy--better to be on top of it rather than under it.  As I swam out, I fought off fearful thoughts and repeated a mantra of, "You're a strong swimmer."  I also considered that this is how it must feel to an inexperienced swimmer all the time.  But without the confidence that they actually are a strong swimmer, I can see how it could be terrifying.

I survived that wetsuit-less lap and to be honest, it didn't end up being all that bad.  (It took me a while to get warmed up afterward, but I was prepared with a thermos of hot tea, warm clothing, truck heater on full-blast, and a hot shower at my nearby office.)  I'll have to do this again and maybe throw in some cold showers and baths as well to be prepared for Horsetooth.  I know what to expect from the cold.

But I hadn't expected the fear.  In some ways, I hope to feel that fear again in future swims.  As a swim coach, it's a great reminder of what some folks deal with every time they get in the water.  As a person, it's not such a bad thing to feel this way once in a while.  I built a little confidence by overcoming the fear this morning.  The next time will be cold again, but I'll survive that swim too.