Gain the comfort and confidence to swim free!
The Beaver State – Oregon’s official title – is aptly named as there are many waterways in this beautifully green region. With special thanks to Cyndi Werhane for commissioning esteemed swimming historian, Elaine K. Howley to document Oregon’s Open Water history.
Have you heard of the benefits of cold water swimming? Brightening mood. Increased stress tolerance. Decreased inflammation. Improved immunity. To name a few.
Eight years ago someone was introduced to me as a certified ice swimmer – really, this was a thing? Sure enough, I read the International Ice Swimming Associations website. This piqued my interest, but I couldn’t quite fathom it, not yet.
About 5 years ago, I shed my wet suit for early spring swims when the water was mid 50’s. It was cumbersome to get it on and off, such that preparing to swim felt like it was cutting into time that I could actually be swimming! So I stashed it away and never looked back. But I hadn’t heard about the benefits of cold water swimming, not yet.
It wasn’t until two years ago that I started to tune in to the tales of swimmers jumping into lakes and rivers long after ‘known’ open water season ended. It sounded kind of fun. My training partner and I experimented with a swim in November and I was surprised at how easy it was to go… around just one more bend. But I didn’t put any time or energy into arranging cold water swims, not yet.
But last year, after my open water season concluded with Swim the Suck in October, I had my sights set on swimming the length of Lake Tahoe in July the following year – water could be in the low 60’s. My training partner and I did some late season test swims (read about one of them here), then I convinced a few buddies to see how long we could swim into the winter. I needed support because, quite frankly, I can think of a million things I would rather do than go jump in a cold lake! But once I made a commitment to my swim buddies, I was there.
Twice a month we tested our fortitude against the elements. We sought the purported benefits. We shared the boat ramp with fisherman as the thermometer sunk into the low 50’s in November. By December the water level was too low for boats to use the ramp, so we enjoyed having the lake to ourselves with water in the mid 40’s. Come January we had snow covered peaks as a backdrop to quick dips with temps in the low 40’s. Our time shortened, but we still got wet twice each month. February was the coldest, 39.1F, but we knew that it would start going up (both the water level and the temperature). By March everything was on the rise. April saw water temps in the low 50’s which now felt quite comfortable for a respectable distance! Then it was May, and we were back to the traditional kick off of open water season with water temperatures hovering in the low 60’s.
All over the world, most notably, in the United Kingdom, I hear of groups gathering to swim in cold water. Not for distance, so much as a dip. I find it to be the most inspirational thing to hear of men and women of all ages and abilities gathering to get wet regardless of temperature or conditions. Check out these photos of winter wild swimmers in Scotland:
I started cold water acclimatization in an effort to prepare for my scheduled 21 mile Tahoe crossing. I wanted to be comfortable in low 60’s. And it totally worked. In 2020 I’m going for similar distance, but colder waters. So we’re shooting for weekly Wednesday dips for this years over winter swimming. I’m going to push the envelope this winter and not rest at just ‘getting wet’. I’m not sure I’m ready for an ice mile, but it’s on my mind. One of these years I’d like to make it to the Memphremagog Winter Swimming Festival!
As for benefits, I’m generally a happy person, so I haven’t noticed a more buoyant mood as a result of cold water swimming. But I have discovered a zeal for the experience. I have redefined what cold is for myself. I have gained a sense of confidence as I’m in awe of my body and what it can do. And it’s always invigorating!
If cold water swimming sparks any interest in you; start with your language. I hear so many people say right away, “I could never do that!” Or, “I’m always cold.” Using words like ‘never’ and ‘always’ closes the door right away. Catch yourself and instead try saying, “I’m not sure about that,” this leaves the door open. Ask around and try to find some open minded plungers, or look online for a wild swimming group. Then imagine yourself disrobing and getting chilled to the bone. Only to come back to temperature – quite literally – and luxuriate in the warmth and glow of the experience. If you’re local, join us at the Emigrant boat ramp on Wednesday’s at noon! Be smart and be safe out there, glance at the references below for tips on acclimatization and safety.
How to Acclimatize to Cold Water
Here is my high level training plan by month for the 25 mile In Search of Memphre:
In short, my goal was to peak at swimming 11 miles over 4 days per week, which is less than fifty percent of the marathon swimming rule of thumb–you can swim in a day what you train in a week. However, for me this was still very aspirational! In reality, I ended up training just one day and 6 miles a week. You read that right, I trained for a 25 mile swim by swimming one day a week. Some rare weeks I would squeeze in a focus session where I work on form, but once summer was in full swing, with kid care, swim lessons, guided lake swims, immersion clinics, etc., the only time that I was able to cut out for myself for training was 3 hours on Mondays. My training partner and I started out doing long swims in a pool and then jumped in the lake once it was warm enough to swim the whole time. At my peak, in June, just weeks before swimming the length of Lake Tahoe, we were up to 6 miles of swimming each Monday.
This is not ideal, but I share my story for three reasons. First, to stress the importance of swimming efficiently. Second, to stress the importance of swimming consciously. And finally, if you’re a busy parent, student, professional, or _____ you can do it too–and you should, because you deserve it!
The most important part of my training plan is my focus on form. I have worked hard to ensure that my form is efficient and painless. I dedicate one day a week to a long swim, and when I’m able to squeeze in a second or third swim in a training week, it’s always form focused. On every distance day the thing I think about most while swimming is maintaining good form: posture, pull, rotation, glide. If you want to start swimming more efficiently, try this!
In addition to form focus and distance days, the key to a minimalist training plan is building in long training swims. These are the much needed brain teasers and confidence boosters to see where you’re at in preparation for a long swim. In the case of 2019, I swam an 8 miler in late May. At the end of June, I ponied up for almost 17 miles around one of our local lakes. Then in July I swam the 21 mile length of Lake Tahoe. After which I can honestly say that I didn’t swim much until we went to Vermont for NEK Swim Week. This was training camp, 47 miles in a week, and set me up quite well to swim the 25 mile length of Lake Memphremagog a month later. In between training camp and my return to Vermont for The Search, I think I swam once. Want to set yourself up well for a long swim in 2020? Join our inaugural marathon swim training camp April 22-26!
On to my second point: swim consciously. I don’t believe in swimming just for the sake of swimming. Ensure that you have good form (send me some footage for free video analysis!) so that you don’t get hurt and so that you can swim for many, many, years to come. For me, when I increase my speed, my form degrades. I do occasionally try to push myself, but not at the expense of good form. This last year I had a lot of reality checks that I didn’t account for when I initially built my plan; how much I wanted to be available for my kids and my clients. But when I showed up to swim, I was present, and I think that goes a long way.
I have no idea why I thought life was busy before kids. I remember thinking that life was busy with one baby and a full time job. Then I had a baby and a toddler and a side business teaching swim lessons. Now with a 3 year old and a 5 year old, I’ve finally realized that no matter what I’m doing, I will always feel like life is busy! The fact is I don’t always have time to train as much as I’d like. But I don’t want to stop doing the ultra marathon swims that fill my cup. So I set up a training plan that is a best case scenario. Then I put my best foot forward in trying to stick to that plan. I give myself grace when something comes up and I can’t meet my plan. And then, on event day, I go for it. You can too!
My point is simply this; YOU can have the fulfillment of completing marathon swims with just 4-6 hours of swimming per week and a few long training swims! If you want to be supported in a group coaching environment with like minded swimmers, we’ll work together to personalize your training plan with a form focus customized for you. Finally, we’ll discuss how to overcome the inevitable mental hurdles that can get in the way. I hope to see you in our next Quickstart for Marathon Swimming group coaching course!
The waxing moon is captivating… hanging low on the horizon, glowing orange. I load my car with bags full of water, hot water in insulated thermoses, a half gallon of pure Vermont maple syrup, pre made coffee, premixed feeds, extra food stuffs, post Desitin clothes, after swim clothes, parka, etc. I stop and stare at that moon—will the bright light it casts be part of my send off?
Fog is nestled in the valley below and I have the sudden realization that it could thwart my swim start! I recite my mantra: control the things that you can, let go of the things you cannot. The fog is out of my control. I need to carry on. I go through my bare minimum mental checklist: suit, cap, goggles, passport, food—that’s it, let’s go.
The Eastside is dark and quiet, nary a familiar car in sight. I double check the clock, 1:58 AM. I glance at my phone, it’s Tuesday. We said meet at the Eastside at 2 AM on Tuesday, right? I push aside my fears that I’ve shown up on the wrong day, that my clock is somehow wrong, that no one will show up… my pilot, kayaker, and crew, surely they will be here soon. I’m 2 minutes early. Be patient.
I turn the car off and think about picking up my phone to pass the time, but I’ve already talked to Noah, glanced at email, and read supportive messages on Facebook, so I decide to piddle about the parking lot. I walk over to the familiar marina lounge and have a flashback to “In Search of Memphre” 2017… we had two waves of swimmers that year! This parking lot was bustling with activity, swimmers, crew, support staff all milling about making preparation… but this time, it’s just me. All by myself. A solo crossing for this Search. Will this be my year?
Soon Charlotte’s familiar car comes speeding into the lot. I walk over to greet her. Within a few minutes Rob arrives. Gary also. I breathe a sigh of relief, the gang’s all here.
Everyone goes straight to work. Gathering supplies out of cars. Huffing this, hauling that and the other to Lucky, the pontoon boat. Prepping the boat. Prepping the kayak. I want something to do. I want to prep too. But it’s too early to strip down. Too early for Desitin. I walk back to the car from the boat with Charlotte, and ask, “do you ever wonder why you do it?” Humbly, she says, “At this stage, yah. But as soon as I hit the water and take those first few strokes, then I’m like, oh yah!” This is exactly what I need to hear. At this point I feel uncomfortable that I need help from people and that so much stuff is required to support me while I endeavor to swim across a big lake. Why am I making 3 people get up before 3 AM and sit on a boat and in a kayak for 15 hours just for little old me? I hold on to the thought that I too will remember why, just as soon as I take my first strokes.
The night is cool. Overnight lows are predicted to be in the high 30’s F. At our crew meeting the day before, Charlotte guessed the water temp was 66F. We chose this night because the alternative, while 20 degrees warmer, included rain, and plenty of it. I remember back to 2017 when the water was 64F, the air temp was in the 40’s. We started at 1am. The night was crisp and cool, like this one. I started out comfortable, but after slogging through the dark night, just as day was starting to break, I admitted to my crew that I was cold. My hip flexors were sore and cramping. Elaine smartly encouraged me to focus on one more feed. Just one more feed. Every time I took a stroke, the pain in my hip flexors seared. I couldn’t imagine this pain passing. I knew that I’d warm up as soon as the sun came up, but I couldn’t imagine enduring. I couldn’t imagine walking up on the beach in Magog.
This time I could. I’d been imagining walking up on that beach ever since. This year was different. I spent time acclimatizing to colder temperatures by taking a dip in our local reservoir twice a month all winter. As the lake water warmed, I mixed in cold showers. As the hot southern Oregon summer continued, I resorted to blasting the A/C at 60F when I was driving. Heck, I swam 21 miles across Lake Tahoe in water temps hovering around 64/65F. This year I was ready.
I brought my feed supplies to Lucky. I talked it through with Charlotte, maple syrup and water every feed. Electrolyte every other feed. Protein every other hour. Coffee and donut at breakfast. Soup for lunch. And a bunch of other stuff: Lara bars, cliff blocks, peaches, peppermint tea, Advil, gas-x, Rolaids. I didn’t have these things on my feed plan, but I let her know that I might make requests. She set up a feed station on the boat. We signed our waivers. Had a safety briefing. It was almost go time.
I don’t feel the knots and butterflies in my stomach feeling that accompanied me through years of age group swim meets. But I feel a weight. I left my family in Oregon. Flew all the way across the country. I’ve asked 3 people to take time out of their lives to accompany me. I feel selfish. I push the thought out of my mind. I remind myself that I have one thing to do today: swim. That’s it. The whole day. Just swim. Don’t stop.
We enter the marina lounge, last call for bathroom, time to suit up, Desitin up, Vaseline up, final preparations—it’s time. Charlotte graciously helps with Desitin and Vaseline, then we head to the dock. Gary is already in his kayak. Rob is at the helm. This is really happening!
It’s too shallow by the dock, so Lucky needs to get out a ways before I start. I strip off my towel and shirt and hand them to Charlotte. I’m afraid of being cold. Much to my surprise, I don’t mind the cool air. A light shines on the rocky area where I will start. The boat pushes off. Gary is ready. But it isn’t time, not quite yet. I’m afraid of being cold. I dip my toe in the water. “Not quite yet Shannon,” comes over Gary’s radio from Charlotte. “We’ve got to get out a bit.” My mental pep talk ensues, “you don’t feel cold. The lake is warmer than the air. You can do this.”
Next thing I know, “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… go!” I spontaneously wade into the void, but cautiously. The water, the night, it’s all pitch black. I feel around the rocks with my feet so as not to slip. Wading, wading. I’m aware that Gary is near me, but I’m focused on the black void. Trying to discern the water from the night. It hasn’t really occurred to me, but the boat is consumed by the fog.
The water reaches my knees, I hit a concrete block and walk over it. It’s up to my thighs. It might be deep enough to swim, but I‘m still wading. I wonder what I‘m waiting for. Why am I still walking? Gary can attest, I think my last words are, “oh shit, I really have to swim!”
I dive in.
The lake weed tickles my legs, it gets caught around my arm. I take a stroke, and another, and another. Do I have a feeling of relief? Do I remember why I’m doing this? I’m not sure. But I know that I don’t have anything else to do today. Just swim to Canada. That’s it.
I’m trying to just swim. To find a rhythm. But having trouble orienting myself in the dark, adjusting my eyes to the lights in the hull of Gary’s kayak. Is he drifting off? Coming closer? Should I get closer to him? Where’s the boat? I remember how the boat would drift off during my Tahoe crossing, when I was nodding off. How the lights would skew as my perspective shifted because I was drifting off into swim sleep. But that’s not happening, we’ve just begun. I’m just disoriented in the dark. I look up and see lights. Is that the boat? Was it green that we put along the hull? Is that a green light? I tell myself, “just stay by Gary, it will be fine.”
Trying to find a rhythm, trying to gauge my distance from the kayak. No, he’s definitely drifting off. Is he talking on the radio? Ahhh, he’s coming back towards me. But he’s supposed to set the course, I set the pace. How can he set the course if he’s falling behind me? I’m confused. Getting frustrated. At what point do I check in and make sure everything is okay? Do I just keep plodding along? Do I voice my concerns? Or just leave it up to him to let me know? Would he let me know if something was wrong? Oh shit. What’s happening?
I pick up my head up and ask, “how’s it going?” “Just fine,” Gary assures me. “Do you have any idea where the boat is?” “No idea,” Gary says honestly. Despite the fear that this evokes, I’m beyond grateful for Gary’s honesty. I suggest that we will surely be able to find them when there‘s more light and he says, “hopefully before then, they have your feeds.” “I can make it a few hours,” I say. I remember back to 2011 when Charlotte lost her kayaker right off the start and blazed on for 7+ miles. I have a big dinner in me, I have plenty of ‘reserves’, we’re fine.
I stick by Gary’s side. I know we’ll eventually find the boat. But I still peek ahead. I see lights. They spread and diffuse in the fog. It doesn’t look like the boat. It’s dark. It’s foggy. It’s pointless for me to look. I remember my job—swim to Canada. Gary will find the boat. The boat would find us. Just swim.
I know Gary needs to come about to the port side of the boat, and that he started on my right side. So I expected that he’ll fall back and come up on my other side at some point. Every time he falls back even just a few inches, I think maybe he’s switching. The lights in his kayak are such that I can’t tell exactly how close or far I am from him. I can’t tell if this is my fault or if two different colored lights in the front and the back of the kayak might help? I’m so disoriented. I can’t get a rhythm. I’m thirsty. I wonder how any marathon swimmer endures this dark and disorienting part. I’m glad we started at 3am, the dawn will come, the night is short—just keep swimming.
Alas, Gary falls back and comes up on my other side, the boat appears! A wave of relief comes over me. I‘m in a kayak-pontoon sandwich. This is great! Gary on my left. Charlotte and Rob on my right. I see red lights blinking on the boat. What signal did we agree for feed time? I pick up my head. Charlotte throws a line with my feed bottles. “Well hello there,” in her friendly New Zealand accent. I’m surprised how cool and calm she is despite what I perceive as utter mayhem that just went down. I’m grateful for water. I don’t care for anything else, but I feign a swig of electrolyte. Chase it with water. I want to make light conversation about the interesting start, but my comment is lost. And I realize I’m dawdling. I told Charlotte that I don’t dawdle on my feeds. Time to go.
The next feed comes up quickly. “Already?” I think to myself. But gladly take a swig of maple syrup, chase it with some water. Get going.
I look to see if I can make out shapes on the horizon. But just see the yellow lights in Gary’s hull. I see a bright flashing light to the left… the lighthouse? That’s about 3.5 miles? Hey, we’re making our way up the lake!
There is bright light streaming over the bow of Lucky. Is that a spot light? I see the silhouettes of Charlotte and Rob. Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe. And then it hit me, the sun! That’s the sun rising! Already! I quickly calculate in my mind, we were supposed to start at 3, but it was probably later than that. Sunrise is around 6:15, so first light is probably at 5/5:15? So I’ve been swimming, about 2 hours… oh boy, long way to go. Keep swimming.
As dawn breaks, steam rises off the water. There are banks of fog that the boat slips in and out of. Low clouds slung across the scenery. An idyllic Vermont fall day, I keep telling myself. And I’m right in the middle of this beautiful setting. I’m trying to grasp the feeling of peace that I get looking at that picture. But I’m in the middle of it. Peace isn’t quite what I feel, but I’m happy.
I can feel the drop in air temperature each time my arm exits. I’m so glad that I’m in the water. It’s warm! Gary looks cold. He’s rubbing his hands together. I feel bad for him. I want to cheer him up, warm him up, something. But just have to keep swimming.
It sneaks up on me, all of a sudden I’m uncomfortably tired. It feels like Tahoe all over again. This horrible ache to just sleep. I think, maybe if I float on my back I could just close my eyes for a second and get a little cat nap. Then that gut wrenching feeling overcomes me, did I nod off? I see the kayak, I see the boat. I’m in the sandwich. But I close my eyes for a second and they don’t open right away. Am I still between the kayak and the boat? I need caffeine. I start anticipating my coffee and donut feed.
I see the signal, feed time! This wakes me right up. As I approach the boat Charlotte runs down the list of options, but there’s no coffee. “I need caffeine next time, please.” I take off swimming, slightly refreshed from the break, hoping to stay awake.
Ugh. It’s the worst feeling. The back of your eyes ache. They just want to close. Your mind drifts off to la la land. Some part of your body reels you back in to the task at hand, swim dammit! I can see Charlotte getting up. Is she getting my feed ready? Oh I hope so. I’m Pavlov’s dog, salivating in anticipation.
Is she signaling? Oh, that must be it. Yes! Nope, she’s walking away. Dang it.
That’s it! It’s time! I sprint towards the boat. I didn’t know my arms could turn over this fast! Amazing what the promise of food and interaction can bring.
Charlotte mentions that we’re maybe 200 meters from Canada! I realize that Derby bay and it’s familiar islands near where I used to live on Sunset Acres, are behind us. But I also know that 20 miles of this lake is in Canada. Swim.
We keep the caffeine flowing for awhile. So. Much. Better. Mental note: next time, just put the caffeine early in the feed plan. No sense waiting, I hate that feeling.
I told Charlotte the day before that I have a pretty good sense of time, but not today. Sometimes it seems like forever between feeds. Then it goes by fast. Then I approach the boat when I see Charlotte kneeling down and she says, “you’re naughty. Get swimming.”
A song, a song, surely I can think of a song to occupy myself between feeds. “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah..” seriously!? That’s the best you can do? “Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart…” Grrr, my internal soundtrack has never worked well, but today it’s severely broken.
Next feed Charlotte says, “anytime you see me do this (she puts her hands on her head with her elbows up high), it means we love you and you’re doing great!” I just about cry. And get back to swimming.
At the next feed I ask if we’re near Georgeville. I remember the boat ride to Georgeville in 2017 after I threw in the towel south of Ile Ronde. I remember the cliffs and hills around Owl’s head receding and the lake opening up. Surely, we’re close. Gary says, “Nope, Georgeville is up around the next bend.” My heart sinks. But Charlotte chimes in, “we’re more than half way!” Just the spin I need. I swim on.
Charlotte brings news from the outside world! “Sarah Thomas says that she loves seeing people swim this lake.” Skeptically, I say, “Sarah Thomas?! All the way from Dover?” “That’s right!” Sarah is my super-mega-idol, if you can legitimately add superlatives to the word idol. So hearing this adds a pep to my step, to say the least!
Next Charlotte starts getting really creative with my feeds, introducing items that I know I didn’t bring on board: pretzels, grapes, ginger cookies. Sometimes she asks what I want next, sometimes she surprises me. My very own feed innovator. This is fun!
Charlotte asks, “Shannon, do you like music?” “Yes, of course I do! But I can’t think of any good songs” “Okay, next feed.” So I take off, anticipating some good tunes in 30 minutes.
“Sweeeet Car-o-line…<dun, dun, dun>” is playing! Charlotte points out Ile Lords island just up ahead. She makes this sound significant. But I’m afraid to ask why because I know the remaining distance won’t be as short as I’d like it to be. I’m thankful for the wind at my back and much of the lake behind me. Swim more.
Charlotte is dancing on the boat. She holds up flags, towels, shirts, anything that will make me smile. It’s absolutely perfect. I know I’m getting a good push from the wind so I just try to hold my form together and ride the waves.
“Now Shannon, I know you’re tired and you’ve been swimming a long time, but we have just 2.95 miles left. I want you to dig deep. I need you to increase your stroke rate, just 3-4 strokes per minute for the next 30 minutes. That’s all, just 30 minutes. I know you can do it.” Suddenly I’m wondering if there’s bad weather on the way? Why do I have to go faster? That’s it, something horrible has happened and they don’t want to tell me until I’m finished. But at the same time, now I have a conceivable goal! I’m energized. And pick up the pace.
All the while I’m swimming I’m looking for validation. Is that a thumbs up? Am I doing okay? Finally, it’s feed time and it comes. “That was so good. Nice job! … Now, I want you to do it again.” My heart sinks. I don’t know how I could possibly keep up that pace for a minute longer, nonetheless 30! Charlotte reminds me how we’re knocking off nearly a mile each feed and how we’re so close! I make an excuse that I have a hard time reconciling increased stroke rate with actual speed, which is true. But I take off willing my arms around at as fast of a rate as I can muster.
I’m afraid to look ahead. Out of my peripheral vision I see the houses getting closer. Boats, docks. I know I’m close-ish. It’s shallow. I can see lake weed. Then patches of sand. A rock bottom. We must be close. I’m certain it’s been more than 30 minutes. Obviously Charlotte isn’t going to declare a “last feed” – that’s fine. I’m not tied to it. I’m glad to push through to the finish rather than have a last feed – I think foolishly. Last feeds are really important – you need the energy to get to the finish! I get the signal for feed time and I sadly realize that I’m probably more than a mile out – Charlotte had mentioned that it gets shallow as you near Magog, but seriously? A mile out? I’m struggling to keep my feet off the ground – for some reason I’m sure that I’ll be disqualified if my feet touch the bottom. Charlotte’s directions are clear, they’ll guide me all the way in. She can see the orange jacket on shore that signals the finish. She’ll point to the beach when it’s the last 25 yards and I’m not to pick up my head and sight until then. I nod. I’m ready to get this thing done.
I’m proud of myself for not picking my head up until I’m sure that it will actually contribute to making a landing. I think I sight twice before the sand comes up beneath me. I figure that I could walk, but I know that walking will be challenging after this much swimming, so I keep stroking until my finger tips hit bottom. I made it. Today I swam to Canada!
Why? Because I can. I feel invigorated. I feel alive. My heart is bursting with love and gratitude. My cup is full.
The other day my training partner and I were reminiscing about a time when we signed up for open water swims the week before the event or even day of, and now we find ourselves planning swims 8-10 months in advance! If you’re looking to try a marathon swim in 2019, consider that for safety reasons longer swims are capped and sometimes sell out well in advance. For channel crossings, there are a limited number of certified pilots, and they book up quickly. It seems that more and more people are looking to test their personal limits with open water swimming (and a shout out to the triathlete’s out there pushing their limits in THREE disciplines)!
I have an outline of swims planned for 2019. The biggest swims are already paid for and on the books. Now I’m planning filler and training swims to round out my schedule. And I want to budget time to swim with YOU too! If you’re local, let’s go play in one of our lakes! If you’re not, let’s meet up somewhere! With a husband and two kids who have schedules of their own, putting a stake in the ground for my absence well in advance is critical – so tell me, where can I find you in 2019?
If you’re looking to challenge yourself in the coming year, here are a few of my favorite swims that are already accepting applications for 2019:
SCAR opened on November 1st – 4 days, 4 lakes, almost 40 miles of swimming in the desert in April. I tried Apache and completed Roosevelt in 2014, great swims, great community, great opportunity to challenge yourself.
END-WET registration is open. This is the longest swim in North America. Mid June, 36 miles down the Red River in North Dakota. It’s also the most affordable ultra marathon swim out there!
Lake Willoughby, Vermont – was chosen as the US Masters Swimming 5 mile National Championship. This swim in August is a great excuse to visit the Northeast Kingdom and the championship is a bonus if you’re competitive like that. This lake has a special place in my heart as it was the first time that I pushed for a distance greater than a mile, it was my first point to point swim (where I realized I could swim TO PLACES), and later became my first lake to double cross as I further pushed my personal limits and besides that, it’s just plain gorgeous.
If you want to put in more swim miles while you visit the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, consider staying for all of Swim the Kingdom Week to check out a different lake each day.
Pacific Open Water Swim Company is currently taking applications for Tahoe and supports a plethora of open water swims in the Bay Area. It’s inspiring following them on Instagram! Can’t wait to meet these guys in July!
Here are a few of my favorites that will be opening registration soon:
Portland Bridge Swim registration opens on January 1st. The swim is the first weekend in July. Swim under 12 bridges over 11 miles down the Willamette River in Portland, Oregon. It’s fun swimming through downtown and seeing the city sites from the water.
Mercer Island Marathon Swim, on Lake Washington, outside of Seattle. I had the distinct pleasure of doing this event in 2018 and just loved it. Registration is planned to open in early January for an end of May date for 2019.
On February 1st Swim the Suck registration opens, this one fills up fast. My husband and I took our first trip to Tennessee last October for this swim and I certainly hope it won’t be our last, I loved it! This is an awesome event complete with beer, taco bar, and custom pottery mug on completion.
If none of these tickle your fancy, check out the LongSwims Database to see all of the marathon swim events (10K or longer) out there!
How is your 2019 planning going? What are you signed up for? What are your favorite marathon swims or limit pushing events?
Try floating on your back and gently kicking, do your knees pop up over the surface of the water? If so, you’re trying to run or ride a bike in th
e pool. This can wear you out and sap valuable energy!
Continue practicing in a back float, bend your knees back, slightly, towards the bottom of the pool. Then allow your ankle to be loose and drive a pointed toe forward so that it touches the surface of the water. As this toe comes up allow your hip to rise while the other leg is bending back towards the bottom of the pool. Repeat.
Rather than focusing on hinging at the knee, think of kicking from your hips or core.
Now flip on your stomach and try the same thing. Your knee will bend slightly, but only enough to engage you hip and drive a pointed toe down to the bottom, thus achieving optimum propul
sion.
Rotation is key! If your hips are square to the bottom of the pool, consider shaking at the waist and really allowing your core to rotate in an exaggerated motion. Kicking is not a robotic motion only engaging your legs, get your whole body into it!
Unsure whether you’re getting the most propulsion out of your kick? Send us a video, or come over for some video capture and technique analysis today!
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As the leaves start to fall in Southern Oregon and the crisp air lasts well into late morning before the sun shines bright to warm things up, the idea of an open water swim is less and less appealing. Where we live, it is down right hard to swim in the open water this time of year. Our local reservoirs have been busy all summer w
atering the orchards and the vineyards, as well as the local farms and pastures. There isn’t much water left in our local swimming hole. (But we still swim sometimes!)
So for me, without a clear goal in focus, the workouts get shorter, as just getting in the water seems like enough. And I have to remind myself that this is technique season. Not a time to abandon the water altogether, but a time to focus on my stroke and be grateful that I’m not pushing for yet more yards.
Since you asked, you want me to put my hand where? I say, shoulder width apart. And flat palm. If you started swimming in the days of the S pull (like I did!), you may have an inclination to face your palm toward the wall, this actually sets yo
u up to sweep outside of your shoulder, which can stress your rotator cuff. So, flat palm, shoulder width apart, focus on this for your hand entry this month. Not sure how or where your hand enters the water? Send us a video of you swimming, or sign up for a technique critique session today to get a 1-2 minute video of yourself swimming from 5 different angles.
In this season where clear goals are not in focus, rest assured that the planning for 2019 has commenced, and what a season it will be!
If you’d like some training tips to get you through technique season, sign up for a private lesson or coaching session today! We can’t wait to go swimming with you!
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While the sun keeps shining on October, Todd and I planned another yeti swim. This time we decided to save the trip to the gorgeous, clear waters of Lake of the Woods and took a dip in our local puddle, Emigrant lake. What we hoped to be a beautiful, sunny day turned out to be overcast and threatening rain, but once you tell your training partner that you want to go swim outside and he takes time out of work in the middle of the day, you don’t say, “oh, never mind”. So we hike down, down… down to the water. As we were readiying to get in the water, I noticed a small 
group of people looking down on us from the RV Park above. They were in jackets and hats and huddled around a campfire. I admit, sitting around a campfire sounded pretty nice as I stood out in the cool air with just a swimsuit on, trying to motivate to get in the even colder water – boy, they must’ve thought we were nuts. Todd grabbed a quick temp to gauge the brisk factor. Thermometer read about 57 F at the edge of the shore, we found that it was closer to 55/56 F as we waded into the mud. Yep, mud. But we were not deterred, we set out to best our 40 minutes at Lake of the Woods the previous week.
We attempted to push off but found ourselves slogging through the mud until it started to drop off and it was just easier to swim. We headed for the ‘no wake’ buoy in an effort to avoid “something in the water” that we spotted before pushing off, then rounded the corner to the left, below the campground, toward the dam. The water was sorta cloudy, but it did not taste muddy like it does in August. It was refreshing and well… murky. A few times Todd started looking around and I asked if he was doing okay – a common ask when you’re swimming in sub 60 degree water – only for him to call out, “yeah, I’m fine, just hit the bottom. It was right there, but I couldn’t see it.” As we got closer to the dam, rocks lined the walls and the water seemed deeper, so I went from being concerned about hitting the dirt bottom, to being concerned about hitting a sneaky rock. I tried to relax and enjoy. Once the initial shock of the cold water passed, I’m reminded of how much I love the open water – no lanelines, no flipturns, nothing stopping me – which scares me sometimes too. “Maybe we should just go back”, “surely, we’ve been out here for an hour” – as much as I live for and thrive on open water swimming, I admit that there are times when I’m training that I have to rally myself to go any significant distance.
It’s always trippy looking up, way up, at various rocks, trees, and landmarks when the water is this low. Todd checked before we got in and the lake was reported at 6% full – yes, SIX percent. Even though it happens every year – the water goes up, the water goes down – it always gives me an apocalyptic feeling to see it, nonetheless swim in it – gah! We have no water, what are we going to do? I try to embrace the fact that we have a little bit and swim on.
We decide to head back to our starting point after about 25 minutes, but didn’t retrace our strokes. We cut across the inlet to the dam and stayed a little off shore to avoid the shallows. Coming back around to the boat ramp Todd stopped and waited for me. I peeked my head up and stopped as well. Next thing I know Todd is standing in thigh high water. So much for avoiding the shallows! We zig zagged across the boat launch area, enjoying the freedom of not having to worry about boats actually launching, and arrived back to our the muddy shore where we left our belongings at about 55 minutes. Even without the sun shining on our backs, we both felt good. Our skin was so used to the cold water that we hardly noticed that cold wind whipping up.
The walk back to Todd’s hous
e provided a nice way to warm up, but my poor choice in footwear will not be forgotten anytime soon. I thought, hey, I’m going swimming, I’ll wear my flipflops, of course. Somehow, these nondescript bumps in my swimoutlet.com clearance sale flipflops, which usually provide nice traction and a pseudo foot massage, on frozen feet flet like I was walking on rocks, pins, needles, glass, all the sharp things! It was only an 8 min walk back to his house, but boy did it feel like forever! If you’ve ever walked on rocks with frozen feet you know how excruciating that is! Come swim with us!
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I rarely have time for such things, but this was a unique weekend, and I uniquely had time to compose a weekend swim recap for you. Fair warning, it’s a long one: I turned around from a border busting swim and family vacation in Vermont to take a personal escape for a little more swimming in Colorado with my sister, Julie. We grew up here, but I moved away 26 years ago—which is hard to comprehend, how have so many years gone by? Everything seems so big, crowded, and vaguely familiar. It’s an odd sensation. After much ado for camping supplies and food stuffs, we made it to Wellington lake at 8000 feet elevation just a skosh before the sun tucked in. We got the late comers welcome, meeting cliff notes, and set up camp before dark. I was road weary, to say the least, I could hardly wrap my mind around what I was about to embark upon, and had no idea what I was thinking when signed up for the Cliff Backyard Ultra Swim:https://mountainswimseries.com/eve…/the-cliff-backyard-ultra
I woke up Saturday feeling horrible. My stomach, my head, my body—just horrible. I hoped that water, a medium that I often considered to be more familiar than land, would make me feel a modicum better. Right on time, at 6:02 am, 16 foolhardy swimmers and I hit the water. It was warmer than the air, a refreshing sub 70. I felt as though I was thrashing about, but rounded two buoys collecting the requisite number of cards, and finished my 1.5 miles with 17 min before the next opportunity. I ate crystallized ginger to settle my stomach, drank water to ease my pounding head, and wondered if I could make it one more lap.
On lap two, the sun was higher in the sky, the buoys were clearly visible, geographic sightings in place, I settled into my stroke and my place well behind the lead pack. I arrived to shore, relinquished my cards as evidence that I’d visited each buoy, felt comfortable about the pace I established, but I still felt horrible. More ginger. More water. Maybe one more lap. And thus my motto for the day was forged.
So how does a person go from, “just one more” after lap one, and get all the way to 16? Easy: salty blue corn chips, warm cinnamon sugar butter tortillas, hot chocolate, ramen noodles, Julie, Kristi, Steve, Diana, inspiration, support, encouragement, love, and Sarah Thomas.
Don’t get me wrong, it was hard. It took three laps to right my stomach woes and a few more to kick the headache. Mid day brought bright sunshine and warm outside temperatures that made the water feel frigid for the first mile. I’d return to shore finally acclimated to the water, get out, get warm and dry, then do it all over again.
My personal pep talks centered around, the financial investments that had been made to get there and leaving my family for a weekend of swimming. How could I go home and tell my kids that I quit when I hadn’t even swam my longest time or distance? Then my wonderful friends Kristi and Steve showed up with their two boys. Diana and her two kids came all the way out to support me, could I do just one more?
There was a fly by thunderstorm. Bald eagles soaring overhead. Gorgeous scenery. Lake goers drifting onto the course. Rain. Wind. Pockets of sunshine nestled behind sheets of gray. Glassy calm. More wind. A torrential downpour. Thunder. Lightening! Sun set. An encouraging voice from my swimming idol. Twilight. And then it was really dark. On lap 16 I swam past the far buoy, accidentally sighting on a light on shore. With only two left in the water, we had kayak escorts, but had to do our own navigating. Graciously, my kayaker let me know I had swum long, I was so glad to turn around. The wind whipped up washing machine style. My kayaker blew ashore. Fortunately the finish was very well illuminated. My everything had been hurting for at least 10 laps. I knew I was done for, but I also knew it would be hard to 
quit. When I landed and Sarah said I had just 3 minutes if I wanted to go again, I threw in the towel. I had been posting the same time for each 1.5 mile loop all day long. But when I missed my time, I decided to relinquish the rock to Last to Fail Stephen Rouch.
I can’t stop crying every time I think back on Wellington Lake. The people. The heart. Just epic. Sarah and Karl, thank you for creating an event that allows a middle of the road swimmer like me to be buoyed by support and encouragement and achieve more than I thought possible.
Thanks to my husband, Noah, who wrangled our darling munchkins ALL weekend so I could swim laps for 16 hours in a high mountain lake.
Lastly, my sister stepped up to crew for me without any idea what she was getting into. But she took her job very seriously and prepared more than I could have ever suggested or recommended. She was perfect for the job and I can hardly express how grateful I am to her for being there to look after and support me. I think she thought I would quit sooner, and defying her was a pretty good motivator—fortunately, her closing comments before we drifted off to sleep after hour upon hour upon hour of watching me swim were, “are we going to come back next year?”
#intrepidwater #adventureswimming #secondtolasttofail #lastwomanstanding #renewedfocus
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