In February of this year I got up early and put off my swim workout to sign up for Swim the Suck, a 10 mile swim on the Tennessee River in Chattanooga. For the last few years I had seen swim reports from my swimming friends about this event and it sounded super fun, i.e., current assisted swim with the possibility of dinner and cocktails afterwards with swimmy friends. How fun!! I wanted to be a part of that, especially coming off of 2017 with two unplanned (one scary) surgeries that totally blew my 2017 goals out of the water (so to speak) and, in February, not certain I would accomplish my primary 2018 goal of swimming Tahoe. But I am sitting here in Denver tonight, and STS starts tomorrow morning in Chattanooga and I will not be there.
What happened? First Tahoe happened—I finished a “true width” crossing in August. My first post shared this swim, which was amazing and awesome and in some ways not-to-be-topped. What happened after that hasn’t been shared.
After Tahoe I was tired. Tired of hitting my weekly swimming goals, tired of getting up early, tired of having a “short swim” equal 5000m, tired of not having time to walk on dry land, in the mountains or to see anything during a workout except the sliver of sky, trees, and mountains in eyeshot during each breath. Don’t get me wrong: the view into the water was often beautiful, and looking at the rest of the world through a kind of louvered shade was its own kind of beauty. But it was beauty extracted from duty. From this I learned I am not monk (or convent) material.
After Tahoe I did not stop swimming, exactly (except for the three weeks after I fell off a scooter and, in catching myself, pulled every single intercostal muscle on my left side). I just stopped swimming a workout. My times were slow (when I even remembered my watch to time myself). When swimming I mostly focused on the sky and views, not stroke, not moving through the water. To swimmers, this non-water focus will seem significant.
So I started hiking. A lot. On steep, Rocky Mountain trails with my ever-willing puppy Stella and wonderful husband Eyal. In the sun and sky and golden aspen trees, high up where oxygen is rationed by the laws of physics. For example, last week after work, on a golden, early October evening, Stella and I hiked 4 miles and saw elk and mule deer, and reveled (ok maybe I was the only one reveling) in the pinks, yellows, and oranges of a Front Range autumn. Not a drop of water in sight.
While I am not done hiking, and even hope to back-country ski this year (snow forecast on Sunday!), I can also report that I had a great, long SWIM WORKOUT today. Pool, I am back.
From my experience over the last year I have learned that, while I love to swim—especially and maybe mostly in wild, open water—I am a dry land creature too. This weekend I have a hike planned at Elk Meadows (before the snow starts) and a short swim on Saturday. On Sunday I have a much longer swim, assuming I can get out of bed and to the pool on the first cold, snowy day of the year.
And no matter what, I wish my STS friends well and I hope to join you next year!
Swimming in the Slipstream 