Tag: pushing personal limits

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Letting Go: Training for Loch Ness

I’ve been enamored with the idea of deliberate practice since being introduced to it in Angela Duckworth’s book ‘Grit’. I wrote about my revelations on Grit after my 25 mile swim from Newport, Vermont to Magog, Quebec in 2019: Deliberate Practice – Intrepid Water.

What I focus on with my swimmers and in my own practice, I have called many things over the years: “technique focus training”, “focus training”, “strategic swimming”, at the end of the day the goal is deliberate practice.

What is deliberate practice? Atomic Habits author, James Clear, says, “Deliberate practice refers to a special type of practice that is purposeful and systematic. While regular practice might include mindless repetitions, deliberate practice requires focused attention and is conducted with the specific goal of improving performance.”

Clear goes on to site examples of phenomenal practitioners of baseball, golf, basketball, as well as artists, inventors, and musical composers. He describes the importance of chunking skills and practicing each with focused attention. (This may sound familiar to my swimmers!)

What about swimming?

Unlike baseball and basketball where skills stand out like hitting, catching, jump shots, free throws, etc., swimmers take stroke after stroke. In pool swimming, there are skills like starts, turns, and breakouts that can be isolated and practiced. In the open water there is sighting, drafting, and perfecting buoy turns. But the primary skill in swimming is your technique.

To deliberately practice swimming, the chunking must occur within each stroke.

Additionally, in training for open water marathon swimming, I work with my swimmers to identify each of the attributes of the swim that they need to prepare for, such as swimming through the night, beside a boat or kayak, water temperature, feed strategy, etc. Each of these components should be addressed in training.

To actualize deliberate practice in my training for Loch Ness, I thought that I would maintain focus on the SwimMastery freestyle fundamentals with the overarching theme of maintaining stroke quality while increasing tempo, in order to swim faster. But it turned out that I needed to completely let go of distance and time goals in my weekly practice and in my training swims. The process of letting go started years ago, but it would take the entire season for me to realize the extent to which these external factors take away from the experience of what is happening in each stroke.

After SCAR, I met with my coach, Tracey, and laid out my plan for the summer:

  • 20-30 minutes of deliberate practice, 2-3 times a week focusing on maintaining the fundamental skills while exploring a range of tempos
  • Build cold tolerance through weekly cold dips
  • 3 training swims to explore my skills over distance, as well as test my feed strategy.
    • A 12 hour training swim where I would endeavor (and fall short of) 26km
    • The 17km Portland Bridge Swim
    • And finally, a 10km swim at Applegate Lake
  • Tracey also recommended that I get to the open water once or twice a week for one of my practices. This happened for a few weeks at the end of May and part of June.

Practice

For several years, I have been suggesting that my swimmers let go of the pressure to complete a certain distance each week. In 2019 when I made the jump to 20+ miles swims, preparing for both Lake Tahoe and Lake Memphremagog, I focused on touching the water 3 times a week. Two practices focusing on technique and one applying that technique with a duration goal, preferably in open water. Since learning SwimMastery in 2022, I have honed my deliberate practice significantly.

I practice deliberately in my Endless Pool, focusing on the “chunks”, or aspects of my stroke that I’m trying to habitualize and applying cues to various tempos.

For feedback, I send video to Coach Tracey every few weeks so that she can check on my stroke. I’ve been swimming for more than 40 years, without focused attention on my body in the water, old habits resurface. Plus, it’s human nature. We are inherently lazy beasts and moving water is hard! It’s 800 times denser than air. With repetitive motions like swimming, it’s important to have your stroke analyzed regularly.

I also look to the water for feedback, not the clock. The clock can only tell me what happen-ed, the water tells me what’s happen-ing. I can tell when I have found the right shape with my body by the amount of pressure that I’m able to put on the water. I can also tell if I lose connection in my body because my shoulders will let me know.

My aim is to practice deliberately 2 to 3 times a week for 20 to 30 minutes. I’m working on firming up my practice times and intentions but feel like I’m at the mercy of my life sometimes. This is a big work in process for me (I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel)! But for my swims in 2023, 20-30 minutes, 2 to 3 times a week has been my mantra.

The C Word

With SCAR as an early season check in complete, and with several 20+ miles swims under my belt, I wasn’t concerned about the distance of Loch Ness. But the water isn’t in the 70F/22C’s like it is in Memphremagog. And while there’s a small chance that water temps will be Tahoe-like (if you time it just right), the air temp is another story. Plus, there’s no promise that you’ll see the Scottish sun. I wanted to understand how my body reacted to cold by thoroughly testing my cold comfort. And I wanted to have more mid swim gears as options for combating cold if it seeped in.

I stepped up my over winter swimming in 2019 after putting a deposit down with Loch Swim Alba. Without understanding the science of endothermic thermoregulation, I knew that I needed to understand how my body reacts to cooler temperatures so that I could safely swim for hours in potentially sub 60F/16C water.

In order to continuing testing my cold comfort into the warm summer months, I set out to do weekly cold dips at Vitality Health and Wellness, a local business that specializes in cryotherapy, compression, sauna, and has a cold plunge; AKA a chest freezer converted to maintain water at 41F/5C. When our local reservoir approached 50F/10C, I transitioned to cold plunging for 10 minutes, once a week. Over the course of the summer, I worked my way up to 22 minutes, a few minutes at a time. This was a huge mental challenge. I started bringing warm tea and something to read but quickly realized that I was going to need a different kind of distraction to extend the time. I tried audio books and podcasts but settled on breathwork meditations while envisioning swimming in Loch Ness. Not that I had ever been there, but the internet is full of pictures, there are stories if you seek them out, and the imagination is a beautiful thing! It was never easy and I always looked forward to it being over. I suspected I would feel the same way in the loch.

Training Swims

12 Hour Swim

The first weekend of July, some of my local swim friends and I endeavored a 12 hour swim; every hour on the hour from 6AM to 6PM. Something I recommend to any budding marathon swimmer, it’s an excellent exploration in getting comfortable being uncomfortable. Sarah Thomas first introduced me to the idea with the Cliff Ultra in 2018. This was an excellent addition to my training calendar, but it felt like I had little at stake. It wasn’t particularly cold, other than a few hours in the morning when the air was chilly. And we rested after each swim; just set off every hour on the hour. However, this was the first place where I explored letting go.

Initially I set out to do 2,000 meters each hour. Rest, repeat; every hour on the hour for 13 hours with the notion that I would put in 26,000 meters by the end of the day. After the 6am swim I saw that my watch registered 1,878 meters despite buzzing 4 times at each 500. Then again on the second swim, 1,878 meters – maybe I missed one of the 500’s? By the third swim, I was certain that it buzzed 4 times, yet it only registered a little over 1,800 meters. What was going on? It turns out that the alarm on my watch was set to activate and display my split after each 500 yards, despite the overall distance being set to display in meters. I didn’t even know this was possible! While I pushed to get the buzz each 500 and check my time, I realized I was just going through the motions. I tried to change cues each 500 but I wasn’t really present in my stroke. Not to mention that I was hardly having fun. If it’s not fun, what’s the point?

Finally, I started to let go. At noon I decided to swim with a friend who had travelled 4 hours to camp and swim with us. We swam in a different direction than I had been swimming and looked for fish! A joy that I do not usually allow myself. The pressure to get a certain number on my watch started to let up, but it was still there; I had a fleeting thought that I might be able to make up the distance later with a few longer swims.

Then I swam with my husband who was completely out of his comfort zone swimming at all, but he was doing it! Swim-hike-sit ups, every hour on the hour. I was so proud of him. Swimming by his side and being present with him, and in my stroke was a gift. I started to wonder: why am I chasing numbers on my watch in the first place? After his swim was over, I had time to play around with different gears in my stroke as I tried to catch up with friends.

I continued to set off each hour with friends in different directions exploring different arms of the lake and playing around with different qualities and tempos in my stroke. As the afternoon wore on and the number of remaining swims dwindled, my watch buzzed midswim indicating that I had knocked out another 500 yards, I glanced at it mid stroke. I was pleased to see that I was posting faster splits than I was doing first thing in the morning when I was fresh. My body felt great in the water despite being 10 hours into an all day swimming affair. It occurred to me that once I let go of my distance goal, I was able to embrace, not only the community—which was more meaningful than racking up meters – but in the process, I got to be more present in my stroke and feel into my body in the water, and play!  

Portland Bridge Swim

The following weekend was the Portland Bridge Swim. I planned to test my feed strategy which failed miserably in Lake George last year, but I also set a lofty time goal for myself because I had a few fleeting moments of speed in an open water practice. It was my 4th time swimming the 17 kilometers from Sellwood to Saint John in Portland, Oregon. This year the tide would be against us for the first 3 and a half hours, then turn and theoretically provide a little push to the finish. I wanted to finish in under 5 hours, as I did in 2013 (when the current was with us the entire way).

I set off in wave 1 and within 30 minutes found myself being passed by speedy swimmers in subsequent waves. This was quite deflating. The water was also warmer than I expected which drained my energy. My initial optimism subsided, and negative self talk ensued. I found myself plod, plod, plodding down the river, having trouble maintaining focus on any one cue. I couldn’t recall the tempos that I had been working on in my weekly practice, and I was having trouble swimming straight! I was only a few hours into the swim, and I felt frustrated.

As I passed under one of the 12 bridges along the course, I decided to roll over, backstroke, and take in the sights. I thought back to the first time I swam the course, a decade ago. So much had changed in my life, and in my swimming! The next bridge I saw Marlys, my support kayaker, with her camera out. I jumped up out of the water to see if she could catch me midair – something I did under each bridge 10 years prior on my first float down the Willamette. Finally, I started to let go of my time goal and allow the ebb and flow of my mind in each moment. I straightened out, made headway and eventually the shadow of the massive structure of the Saint John’s Bridge came over me. I rounded the final peer and made my way to the finish where I was greeted by family and friends.

Applegate 10K

My next training swim was the following weekend, a 10k at Applegate Lake. I wanted to accept exactly where I was in my training. I hadn’t hit my distance goal and missed my time goal in Portland, but I knew that there was a lot more to preparing for a long swim than distance and time markers. Among other things, we have to be present with ourselves for hours on end and we have to be able to listen to our body. I endeavored to feel good throughout the swim—at the end of the day, feeling good in my body and feeling like I can swim all day is what I want from my time in the water.

A buoy course isn’t my favorite kind of swim; I love the peace and solitude of being the only swimmer in the water. But I was surrounded by friends in my local lake and even had some of my swimmers in the water with me! I didn’t have a strategy, but I leaned into each loop, focusing on swimming straight between each buoy and holding on to my cues. After 3 hours and one minute I walked out of the water pleased with my effort.

Come mid July, my training swims were out of the way but something off. I was doing pretty well at prioritizing time in the cold plunge. If I missed a week, I forced myself to make time twice the following week. But my deliberate practice lost the purpose and focus that compelled me previously. And while each training swim played an important part in my overall plan, I felt like I was just checking boxes. In the water I was having trouble maintaining focus and it showed in my swimming. When I got video and convened with Tracey, it was clear that my old habits were sneaking back – her feedback was almost exactly what she told me at the same time last year.

If I’m honest, in the height of summer, my practices were a smattering of 5-10 minute sessions between teaching swim lessons where I tried to think about something in my swimming and not the next thing that I needed to go do. And in my training swims I had the wrong focus.

With just a few weeks left before boarding a plane to the UK, I set out to focus exclusively on my cues with a very deliberate practice. With fresh cues from Tracey, I endeavored to get in the water every single day. But I couldn’t let go of the need for speed. I closed each session trying to understand how fast I was going by counting my strokes for a minute. Then I would speed up the current in the pool and count my strokes for another minute. When I couldn’t maintain my stroke count, I warmed down and got out.

How did it go?

The plan seemed to have worked out, I swam faster than I ever have in my life for ten and a half hours. I ran up on shore, did a little dance then went on about the rest of my family vacation. But when I look at the video of my stroke, I’m appalled.

Tracey reminds me to use each swim as an opportunity to come out a better swimmer, but that wasn’t the case for me in Loch Ness. I didn’t see the expanse of water before me as my canvas for further exploring my body in the water. I saw it as a body of water that I needed to get across. While I got to the other side, I didn’t get better.

In some sense, I feel like I wasted a year trying to swim fast. In the process I got faster, but I also lost the attention to my body in the water that enabled me to continue swimming marathons in the first place. Sometimes I lose connection and my shoulder reminds me.

Speed isn’t the answer, it is the by product of a well honed deliberate practice.

I want to let go even more.

Why let go?

In a world where we are surrounded by devices and apps that help us measure everything from steps and calories to intensity minutes. And in a sport like marathon swimming where thousands of meters a week and million mile years are badges of honor, why on earth would we let go of distance and time goals in our practice?

There is no insurance.

Swimming 20 kilometers in a practice, does not guarantee that you will be able to swim a 20 kilometer event. What you need to grow is your confidence. You need to trust yourself: your mind and your body. If you exercise the principles of physics and devote each practice to making swimming as easy as possible, you will be able to swim all day (as long as you fuel your body).

There is a mental toll.

Humans are exceptional beings. We can convince ourselves to do all kinds of crazy things. But swimmers also get burnt out, bored, and quit. Some swimmers never make it to the start line. With an effective deliberate practice, your brain keeps your body engaged and your body further engages your brain. This stimulation is the path to mastery.

Get time back.

While I absolutely love swimming, I’m also trying to raise two boys in a crazy world, nourish my relationship with my partner, preserve our family unit, build a business, and foster an online community of swimmers committed to finding out what their capable of; I’ll take back any time that I can get. You can take back time too! If there’s a long swim that you want to do, you do not have to have hours a day and give up weekends to train, let’s chat.

I have found swimming akin to land based mindfulness, finding presence in each moment. This is what I endeavor in the water, presence in each stroke. Just like meditating, sometimes minutes melt into hours. Other times, it’s an eternity between each second.

This year I realized, more than ever, that excess, unfocused swimming reinforces less than optimal technique. I need to let go.

Are you ready to let go? Be sure that you are on my email list so that you’re the first to hear about my new course! This is not swim coaching. This is a transformation. It is not for those who want to keep doing what they have always done. Are you ready for something different?

Change is hard. Let’s do it together.

Email me for more details.

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That one time in Lake George…

Have you ever had a crazy idea?

And then a piece falls in place that makes it seem possible.

And then another piece.

And another.

So you keep moving forward…

More pieces fall in place.

It seems improbable. You’re not even sure it’s a good idea. But you’re curious…

Here’s my story of following curiosity:

Last year my big swim was connecting the True Width and the Vikingsholm in Lake Tahoe for my longest duration swim at the time of 15 hours for 26 miles (this includes the 3 mile connector between the two routes, which I swam—because who wants to get out and get back in).

This year I set my sights on the 32 mile length of Lake George. It was a logical step up in distance. But I was curious…

I had a notion to follow in the footsteps of the amazing Caroline Block and do the round trip (it’s a serious pain in the butt to ride the boat (or even drive) back to the start). I even boldly messaged Sarah Thomas and asked her, “how did you know when you were ready to jump distances?”

Following my successful Tahoe tour, I took my usual time off to reset, set sights, and anticipate the rebuild.  When the time came to return to the water, I was surprisingly uninspired. To get my head in the game, I always resume swimming with my local Masters team. Friends make it more fun! But I was still having trouble motivating. Worse than that, I was having pain in my shoulder that I couldn’t resolve through my usual ‘Back to Basics’ routine that I test and tout as a coach.

After years of intrigue, and several months of participating in the monthly coaches calls as an Affiliate Member, I signed up for the SwimMastery Fundamental Skills Coaches Training scheduled to begin in January of 2022. I limped through the holidays aimlessly swimming here and there, doing shoulder strengthening exercises to curb the discomfort. Doubts about pursuing my crazy idea, nonetheless continuing marathon swimming, ran rampant.

When I met Tracey Baumann, one the Instructor Trainers and cofounders of SwimMastery, on the first day of the course, I was immediately hooked on her commitment to deeply understand safe movement patterns and serve the swimming community. Additionally, I loved her engaging teaching style: asking questions to see what we were thinking, having us stand up, follow direction, watching how we understood our bodies to move and gently correcting us, all over Zoom.

The course blew my mind. I could hardly believe that I had been coaching for so many years, mostly helping people swim like me. Now I have a method of teaching that enables me to address each swimmer individually. Tune into their unique abilities. And safely guide them to finding efficient shapes in the water. Additionally, I have gained a global network of coaches to lean into when I need support (because we all do), that are value centered, principle based, and committed to lifelong learning.

With this new knowledge, I found that I could swim pain free. I ran to the pool to put my learnings into practice. But change is hard. I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to proceed. I had a crazy idea; I couldn’t wait to transform my stroke. But I needed a guide.

Through my time with Tracey in the fundamental skills course, I felt like we clicked. Her message resonated deeply. In a one on one conversation I confided that I wanted to swim the 100km round trip of Lake George, but that I have young kids, a fledgling business, and limited time to train. I laid out my traditional technique focused training that I teach in my Quickstart for Marathon Swimming virtual group coaching course: continuously focus on technique, sprinkle in some confidence boosting swims to stretch your mind and your body. Tracey whole heartedly agreed with my approach. Best of all, she agreed to coach me.

This was a big deal. I haven’t had a swim coach since I was 17. Perhaps a few people stood on deck over me while I was in a Masters practice. But I haven’t had an honest to goodness coach that was invested in me and my goals in 30 years.

Finding efficient shapes in the water.

With Tracey’s guidance, I committed a solid 6-8 weeks from mid February into April this year doing no more than 20-30 minute swims 3-4 times a week focusing on specific aspects of my stroke using cues. But I was eager to test my speed and distance, I slipped a few times. I did two 6km days in April and one in May.

Through the mastery oriented practice that SwimMastery taught me, I had a new appreciation for my relationship with, and how I spent time in, the water. Rather than “workout”, I honed my practice: teaching my brain to find efficient shapes and tuning my acuity for consistently achieving them.

This was new.

This was exciting!

This was also really, really frustrating.

I found that practices with my friends at masters stoked my ego—trying to make intervals and keep up with my lane mates. My old habits and shoulder discomfort cropped back up.

I had to slow down.

Change comes from shelving your ego. Ignoring the clock. And literally finding your body in the water.

Through the process I transformed my freestyle from one where my shoulders did ALL the work, wreaking havoc on my arthritic shoulder joints and forcing me to do shoulder strengthening exercises anytime I ramped yards, to a connected, torso driven machine. 

Practice essentials.

By May I felt solid in the fundamentals and we started to play with tempo. Still no clock. A completely different way of swimming than anything I had done in my 40 years in the water.

Then it was June. Swimming took a backseat as I prepared for summer days – kids, camps, teaching swim lessons, trying to keep my clients and Intrepid Water programs afloat. I think I made it to the lake twice.

Days slipped by, then weeks. Tracey consistently checked in, asking how my training was going. The prompts forced me in the water to focus, gather footage, and get feedback.

I set up July to be a month of mental confidence boosts and put my technique to the test. Some 10k loops into the night at one of our local lakes, the 17km Portland Bridge Swim, and close it out with the 10 mile at Kingdom Swim after coaching Swim Tech Camp with Charlotte.

On July 1st, I got sick.

I started out trying to rest my way to health. What’s that saying? “You’ve got to feed a cold.” I ate. Slept. Tried every supplement under the sun. Barely getting out of bed and making my husband do all the cooking, cleaning, and playing with the kids. I never tested positive for COVID, but what started as wooziness, depleted energy, and exhaustion turned to a nasty summer cold with a cough that wouldn’t let up.

I couldn’t shake it. The coughing kept me up all night. My planned weekend of 10k loops didn’t happen. I went to urgent care only to confirm that it wasn’t COVID and there wasn’t much they could for me. I decided that I was on the mend and made the drive to Portland to swim the bridges. But I was up all night coughing horribly, I decided not to risk it since I needed to get better to teach Swim Tech Camp and swim in the Kingdom.

The Keegan’s on their way to Vermont.

Our family took off for Vermont mid July. I had an incredible week with some amazing humans geeking out about swim technique, practicing dryland, and spending some precious time on stage with Charlotte. I was still coughing at night but couldn’t resist commuting the 1.5 miles to camp from the Eastern shore of Lake Memphremagog to Charlotte’s place. It was my first time in the water in weeks and it was divine.

Come Saturday, I prepped for the 10 mile at Kingdom Swim. My training was so limited thus far; I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I was looking for a mental confidence boost and to see where I was at since transforming my stroke.

On the 10th anniversary of my first 10 mile swim (without a wetsuit), I surprised myself with my best time. (Of course we all know that you can’t compare open water events, but I know you do). The cues worked. I was able to adapt to the changing conditions and maintain my solid foundation of technique work. It was a huge bonus to bring home the mid sized maple syrup and beef jerky. When I finished, I ran up to Janine, one of the first to sign on as my crew, and said, “I think I can do 20 more miles!”

That was exactly the boost I needed.

But my crew needed more. It was less than four weeks until my scheduled swim in Lake George. I signed up for a double, was that a realistic goal?

I met with my crew. I talked to the pilots at Waterhorse Adventures. We lost a crew member and gained two more. It was getting uncomfortably real.

In my waning hours in Oregon leading up to my flight, I felt absurd. This was an absolutely crazy idea. What was I thinking? I had a conversation with my husband about The Alternative. You know, The Alternative: just stay home and do the same thing I always do: make breakfast, see my kids off to school, follow up with clients and create content for Intrepid Water, then gather my boys at the end of the day to listen to their stories of lessons learned, characters in class, who was a good listener, how they challenged themselves, and in what ways they felt proud, make dinner, read the kids to bed, stretch, sleep, and do it over again the next day.

It took every ounce of courage to pack my stuff, leave my family and fly across the country for this swim. It helped that I was excited to see friends and meet people that I only knew virtually. And while it’s hard, I was looking forward to exiting my comfort zone. Beyond that, I was curious. How far could I go? Could I swim continuously pain free?

The Narrows, as seen from my flight over the lake.

Leading up to the swim I rested as much as possible. But also met up with local swim enthusiasts and lake guides, Bob Singer and Deb Roberts. We swam a bit. Flew over the lake and took a short boat tour. I first met and fell in love with Lake George in 2012. Now, 10 years later, I felt like I was getting to know her. Soon, one stroke at a time.

A weather delay allowed for more rest. I meditated. Tried to center. I listened to my doubts. And reasoned my way out of them: You have been swimming your whole life, you’re at home in the water, swimming is easier than walking, just see how far you can go.

Right up until pushing off the rocky bottom of Lake George and taking those first strokes, I had to remind myself about The Alternative and how this swim, this attention, this crew, this boat, this kayak, all of it was here for me to not only break free of doing the same thing that I do every day, but to see how far I could go with a solid technique as a foundation.

We arrived at the dock for the start of the swim to dark clouds and rumbles of thunder. Loading up the boat, rain spit from the sky. Then it poured. I was anxious. Do I stand up? Sit down? Lay down? I didn’t know what to do with myself, I helped string lights on the boat canopy. Genuinely lost, I mindlessly looked at my phone.

The rain slowed. There were still gloomy clouds to the North. We knew the weather was supposed to abate by 8pm, but I didn’t want to wait two more hours. Kellie looked at the radar and we decided to do final preparations: stash clothes, put on cap, set goggles, Desitin.

Someone getting coated in white paste is an odd sight in a popular tourist destination. A few people stopped and looked on. I tried to smile and laugh and make light as imposter syndrome creeped in: Who do you think you are? You can’t swim this whole lake. You didn’t train enough. You’re not going to make it.

Me, myself, and I quarreled.

I chanted my mantra to allay my fears, “you’re at home in the water, you’ve been swimming your whole life, just see how far you can go.”

It was shallow, I decided to climb down the boat ladder. I don’t remember how I got to the wall. There were people around, I don’t know how many. I had a smile pasted on my face to hide the fear. My crew told me to, “chat with my ‘fans’,” while the boat was getting ready to push off. I focused on the two little girls closest to me and thought of my boys back home. One of the girls said, “my mommy tells me everyday that I’m strong, I’m courageous, and I can do hard things.”

Chatting with the girls. Photo credit: Mina Elnaccash

“Your mommy is smart, and she’s absolutely right!” I responded. “How old are you?”

“I almost said 6, but I just turned 7,” the little girl replied.

“Really? I have a 7 year old at home,” I said.

“Oh wow,” I hear a woman’s voice in the crowd, “now I’m inspired.”

“YOU can do hard things too,” –I think I said.

“Are we ready?” I asked the boat.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I heard back.

I took a deep breath. I can do hard things, I’m at home in the water, I’ve been swimming my whole life, let’s see how far I can go…

Double Rainbow over Lake George. Photo courtesy of Kellie Latimer

Without realizing it, I pushed off between beams of sunlight beneath puffy gray clouds under a gorgeous double rainbow on the 64th anniversary of Diane Struble’s inaugural crossing of Lake George on August 23, 1958.

My first cue was to breathe. Just breathe. My goggles fogged up. I sensed that I was leaning left, only to be confirmed when I took a breath. I was pulling away from the boat towards shore. I was extremely aware of everyone, including a drone, looking on. “What are you going to do about it?” I asked myself. I corrected with some bilateral breathing. Swim. Just swim.

It wasn’t long before the sun set. Dark was coming on. Gary got in the kayak. I was still feeling strong. The changing light made me feel like I was cruising. But I knew that we started just a few hours ago. I couldn’t be more than 4 miles up the lake.

How far was the Narrows again? I observed the lights on shore. I knew there were lights for much of the swim through the Southern part of the lake, but not through the Narrows. I kept seeing lights. And more lights.

Twilight twinkled on.

Then it was dark.

Stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe.

From my perspective the boat was beautifully lit, and all was well. I played with my breathing rhythm. Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. First Gary was there, then he seemed to drift away. Or was I drifting? The boat was there, then it was right there. I’d snug over towards Gary. Then the kayak was right there.

I consider myself a straight swimmer but found myself correcting the left lean that cropped up at the start. I decided to breathe every three strokes to check my positioning. Stroke, stroke, breathe. Distance between kayak and myself was acceptable. Stroke, stroke, breathe. Distance between myself and the boat was growing. Stroke, stroke, breathe. The kayak seems further away. Stroke, stroke, breathe. The boat is further away.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

This was frustrating. I was having a hard time figuring out who I should follow. The boat had the course, but Gary was my night escort. We talked about following the boat at one point through the narrows, but I was never sure if we had reached that point. I kept wondering when it would come. I wished we had flushed out the plan in more detail.

I was oozing gratitude for the amazing conditions; there was no wind, nary a wave. I thanked Lady Lake. I leaned into the gratitude and thanked Gary, my crew, observers, and Jim, at the helm. I tried to count the hours by estimating where I was in my feed plan. I had jelly beans once, that was feed 10. But there was no guarantee, my crew took my request to heart and were creative with my feeds. They kept me laughing and smiling. When they sent me Fritos, Rick broke out with the Frito Bandito song.

When Kellie was on deck she would look on and smile at me. It’s hard to express what it feels like to be the center of everyone’s attention like this. It’s not something that I’ve ever thought of myself as craving. But I certainly responded. Leaning into the stroke that I honed: weight shift, trident forward, weight shift.

Playing ping pong between the boat and the kayak kept me busy. More than anything, I was pleased that I wasn’t sleep swimming like I did across Tahoe in 2019. I can only remember one sleepy zone out between feeds. I put in a request for caffeine and it arrived the next feed. I felt alert, just unsettled: ping, pong, ping, pong. I should have asked more questions. I just kept swimming.

As the night wore on, I discovered a problem with my right side breath. My head wasn’t as low and comfortable on my right and I was drinking a lot of water. I decided to work on it. That’s what SwimMastery is all about! I had a toolkit to troubleshoot problems in real time. I investigated what I was doing on the left side that was working. I tried to recall the feedback Tracey gave me in my last few videos. Then I searched my body in the water for the differences. I had to search beyond my habitual motions and tune in to the feeling of the water on my body. Finally, I found it. Lean into the left trident when you breathe right, be patient with the back leg, then shift your weight.

It felt great to have something to troubleshoot.

Now what?

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. Energy forward. Stable trident.

The day dawns. Photo credit: Mina Elnaccash

As daybreak neared, I was trying to find the feelings I had in my Tahoe tour the year before; I felt like I was one with the earth as a new day spun into light. But such feelings can’t be recreated. I tried to find presence. I sought peace. Then, out of nowhere, it popped in my head: “am I going to turn?”

Uh oh, this thought was not supposed to come. To turn, or not to turn, was not an option. But there it was.

I pushed it out of my head. Release, recover, trident forward. Do it over again.

One gift of swimming through the night is watching the cascade of light as the day dawns. The light plays on the texture of the water, changing with each breath. Pewter and steel take on sheens of birch, peach. A beautiful scene, turn to the watery abyss, only to have a different scene on next glimpse.

Stroke, stroke, breathe. Energy forward. Always forward.

My mind played with the anchor perched on the bow of the boat. What did it look like? An eagle with a fish in its mouth? Perhaps a pelican? An upside down Toucan? I welcomed and encouraged the playful thoughts.

Dawn turned to day. While I was swimming, I would think of things to ask my crew, then forget to ask when I fed. This happened repeatedly.

It seems improbable that I kept going. The doubts started to come on strong. I can’t make it back to the start. It’s impossible.

I tried to focus on sending my energy forward. I toyed with cues. But mostly I wondered, when should I tell them? When do I tell the crew that I’ll swim to Ticonderoga then I’m done.

I’ll never forget Mary’s face when I said, “I’m 98% sure that we’re going to plan B.” It was a good exercise to say this out loud—she looked genuinely surprised. I realized that they couldn’t see the doubts that had been haunting me since the start. If it didn’t look like I was having trouble, I wondered if I was better off than I thought, maybe I could make the turn?

My crew rallied. Everyone was on deck. The whiteboard read: “Plan A is the way!” The support buoyed my spirits. Maybe I could make it? I decided that I wanted to turn around so that I could just focus on the swimming and not the damn turn.

This was a nice change. I allowed myself to let go of the doubt, I buckled down and swam.

The approach to Diane’s rock in Ticonderoga drags on and on. And on. I had been warned about this. The water was shallow, about six feet and warm. Once Kellie got in the water with me, I knew we were close-ish. But. It. Just. Kept. Going. The houses get bigger, you’re swimming right by them, but you have to keep going. Around the corner. Continue down the channel. It just keeps going. And going. And going.

Swimming with Kellie on the approach to Diane’s rock. Photo credit: Mina Elnaccash

Finally, Gary says, “see that rock with the tree on it? That’s where you’re going.” I look up and see a tree coming out of a rock that is about 30 yards away. But that’s not where Gary is pointing. There’s a rock just ahead of me. Maybe 10 yards. I put my head down and take one stroke, then another. Gary is pointing to the right; I look up and realize that there’s a rock right next to me. “Right there,” Gary says.

To my right, I see a flat rock covered in goose poo. There is green fuzz coating the rocks on the approach. I spy a plaque on a rock a little further to the right with less goose poo. As I head toward this rock, Kellie points to the goose poo rock and says, “right there, just clear the water.”

There’s a 10 inch swath of poop free rock that I eye. I’m aware of the slippery rocks but still try walking only to resort to a spider crawl. I slip my way up the rock, banging my knee, and stand briefly. The boat horn sounds. I’ve done it! I made it to Diane’s Rock!

Kellie encourages me to sit down, and Gary passes over the breakfast scramble that I’ve been dreaming of for the last several hours. I tell Kellie, “I was thinking about swimming more, but that finish broke me.”

“This isn’t the finish, it’s the turn,” Kellie says.

Oh crap, I realized, “I asked for this, didn’t I?”

Reality set in. I told my crew I wanted to turn. They are 100% invested in getting me back to the start. I felt like a kid faced with a chore that I didn’t want to do. How can I get out of this? I don’t want to swim anymore. I’m done. Oh, but wait. That’s exactly why I have a crew here. That’s exactly why they had me state my goal prior to the start. They knew, better than I, that I might waver. This was new to me.

I needed them in that moment in a way that I don’t let myself need people. I think this is what it’s all about for me. I’ve felt the teamwork on past swims, but never like this. I had to lean into trust. I had to believe in my crew.

Kellie said, “Just swim to where the kayak meets the boat. That’s all.”

Ahhh, so this is what marathon swimmers mean when they say, “swim feed to feed”. I’ve heard it a thousand times, I’ve thought it before, but never believed it so much as I did in this moment. Okay, swim to where the kayak meets the boat, that’s it.

Finally, I started to find presence in my swimming. Something I had been seeking the whole way up the lake. Weight shift, energy forward. Weight shift, energy forward. Is all there was.

But my monkey brain was still looking for an out. Is that a storm brewing? Surely that was lightening. Should I tell them I saw lightening?

Shannon, what’s your job? Swim.

The conditions continued to be flat and gorgeous. I convinced myself that it was a sign, I had to keep going. I was actually getting a slight push from the North; how can I quit when the conditions are so good?

The warmth of the shallow waters in Ticonderoga wore off. At first I wanted ice water to wash the warmth away. Then I got chilled.

My crew notified me that my stroke count dropped from 46-48 strokes per minute to 40. They asked for me to pick it up. Try as I might, I could not will my arms around any faster. And I kept getting chills in my body despite being surrounded by warmth.

We agreed to chemically induce a pick-me-up with some caffeine next feed. But I knew something was wrong. Well before feed time, I decided to tell my crew what I had suspected for a while, “I think my body is shutting down.”

We agreed to 5 more minutes of swimming, then reconvene. I pushed on. My thoughts roving, should I have said anything? What if they tell me I have to get out? Am I okay with that?

Heading South down the lake. Photo credit: Mina Elnaccash

I wanted to know what it feels like to make the turn. Now I know. For a moment, I wondered if I could make it to 24 hours. I asked Mary what time it was, a topic I usually avoid. The mark was three hours away. Three hours sounded like forever. While I really wanted to see what it would be like to swim through another night, the thought of dark, when the sun on my back wasn’t warming me, sounded dangerous. I was physically done, but mentally I could go longer; this felt like a significant accomplishment.

Mary stopped my stream of thoughts and offered a few options. I could touch the boat and the swim would be over, or I could swim about 1000 yards to exit at a state park. I liked this option. Whether it was or not, it felt more dignified to walk up on shore. I have gotten in the boat in the middle of a swim before, and I knew that ultimately I would get on this one. But it felt good to have an end (even if it wasn’t The End) in sight, to make a final slog, watch the land rise from the depths, navigate the shallows, and find my footing on terra firma once more.

After 22 hours, 20 minutes, and 36.5 miles (unratified) of swimming, I walked up on the beach at Rogers Rock State Park.

Grateful for warmth. Photo credit: Mina Elnaccash

I did not anticipate the importance of setting not just a goal, but a lofty goal. If plan A had been a one way swim of Lake George, it would have been just another successful swim.

I wanted to challenge myself to find the hard parts, and I did. It was hard to keep swimming after the turn. And in those last 4 miles, I laughed, cried, berated myself, and found presence. I wanted to see how far I could go with the torso driven technique that I adopted through SwimMastery and while my body shut down, I think I could go further with better preparation.

Throughout the swim I was inspired by the Marathon Swim Stories bestowed to the community, my clients commitment to themselves and allowing me to be part of their journey, and the generous support and connection of my virtual swim coach (whom I have yet to meet in person), Tracey Baumann.

Post swim, I cannot believe how fine I feel. Sure, I had some muscular soreness in my deltoids and triceps, but my arthritic shoulder joints feel great. Physically I was drained, but no more than if I had a hard pool session. Even Mary was surprised that I wasn’t comatose, or at least sleeping more. Heck, I couldn’t believe that I was still standing upright at 10pm chit chatting with my crew the same day that I got out of the water.

Does that mean I should have swam further? I don’t think so. I got out when I my body was shutting down. I feel accomplished. I still love swimming. I want more. 

Sometimes I wonder if I could give it all up. After all, there is a significant financial, physical, and emotional burden to such trials. But then I would get stuck under the weight of every day and limit myself to the known, the familiar, and creature comforts. I would rather tap, “the human commitment to exploration,” as one of my clients, Will Hodgess, sagely states, “of the absolute beauty and privilege of being alive, and possessing both a functioning body as our vehicle, and a brain to experience it in all its wonders.”

For a period after each swim, I cannot remember the day, week, or month. I am awakened. I see beauty all around. I radiate love.

What are you curious about?

Follow that curiosity.

Get a coach. Yes. It’s an investment. But this is your one and only life we’re talking about!

Hone your practice. Change is hard, but what’s The Alternative?

If you’re looking for a guide, I’d love to chat with you. If you’re intrigued, find out more about SwimMastery.

Thank you, to those who have supported me in my most recent exploration of my functioning body: Mary Stella, Kellie Latimer, Rick Born, Mina Elnaccash, Gary Golden, everyone at Waterhorse Adventures, my husband Noah Keegan, and my boys, Roen and Soren.

And to those who came before. It is your courage and curiosity to cross bodies of water that inspires me.

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Pushing Perceived Limits

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:

https://www.boredpanda.com/photography-wild-swimming-all-weathers-stories-scotland-anna-deacon/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=organic

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.

The many faces of our local boat ramp where we dipped from November through March.

How to Acclimatize to Cold Water

Open Water Swimming Safety in Cold Water

The Big Chill: The Health Benefits of Swimming in Ice Water