Summer Lovin’, Had Me a Blast

Today marks the first day of September, in the year 2024.

My 50th birthday is in 14 days.

My English Channel swim window opens in 22 days.

But before we get into all of that, what a summer! Summer, you were sure something. I had so many brilliant swim experiences in July and August that it is hard to imagine that September will take the cake. A recap is in order, so here we go….

Just a girl in Dover.

In July I hopped across the pond to undertake a weekend of salty swims with Dover Channel Training. When I learned about the opportunity to get some actual Channel experience with a group that has supported so many swimmers, I had to sign up. While I’ve spent a lot of time in the UK, I’d never been to Dover and was keen to get a sense of the situation. I travelled from London and became more and more excited as I saw the coastal views out the window of the train, Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat playing loud in my headphones. I stayed in a cute and cozy little place near Churchill House, where my crew and I will stay later this month. With a mere 10 minute walk to Dover Harbour, it was the perfect location to suss out places to get food, replenish supplies, and, of course, drink beer. The iconic White Horse pub was right across the street from my digs, so I strolled over for some Channel inspiration. The walls and ceiling of the pub are covered with years of Sharpie’d accounts of Channel swims. Walking from room to room, you can look up and see the handwriting of many a swimming legend, and I spotted autographs from Sarah Thomas, Martyn Webster, The Crazy Canucks, Sally Minty-Gravett, and my own coach, Brent Hobbs! I’d heard that the new owners no longer allow swimmers to write on the walls, but the barmaid assured me that indeed they do. I may have even scoped out a spot for my future self.

My Dover weekend plan called for two five hour swims back to back. Part of the deal is that the DCT team provides hourly feeds, and I was eager to see if their offerings might solve my ongoing challenge with nausea. I told Emma about my “issues”, and she suggested UCan, a cornstarch-based product that a good old Dad invented for his daughter who suffered from stomach issues. Eager to test it, I started my swim with around twenty other Channel hopefuls. We swam laps around Dover Harbour, which on that day offered a mix of conditions ranging from wind and waves to blindingly bright sunlight. The laps are approximately two km and while they don’t actually take you into the actual Channel, they do give you a chance to taste that famous salty water, and soak up the vibes. My first hourly UCan feed went well. It was a slightly chalky, less sweet chocolatey flavour, served warm. It stayed down and filled me up. The second feed was blackcurrant squash. Yum. The third feed was UCan. After three hours of slaying the chop and waves, I had fully expected to blow my cookies. But I didn’t. It stayed down and I kept swimming. At the five hour mark I was supposed to stop for the day, but I felt so good and strong with actual calories in my body that I decided to keep going and swim the full seven. Not a single barf exploded from my mouth. I don’t think I even burped. All that happened was that my smile grew and grew like the Grinch’s heart, as I realized that I might have (gasp!) found. my. feed! I went back to the b’n b with some pretty major chafing that I didn’t even feel because I was so happy, grabbed some fish and chips, and tucked myself in for the restful sleep I’ve need to do it over again tomorrow.

The next morning I woke up and strolled through town to the harbour for the ten a.m. start. To my surprise, the amazing Sarah Thomas and Neil Hailstone were on the beach, greeting swimmers and soaking up congratulations for Neil’s successful Channel swim earlier in the week. How starstruck was I!? I knew they were in the area from Sarah’s Instagram stories, but I could never have hoped to actually meet her in Dover Harbour, in my bathing suit, covered in Vaseline (me, not her). If you haven’t heard of Sarah Thomas, well, she’s pretty much the most accomplished swimmer of all time. She is the only person to have completed a four-way English Channel, and holds the world record for the longest lake swims in 104 mile Lake Champlain and 80 mile Lake Powell. Meeting her was magic for my heart and my mind, inspiring and timely. I thought, “Here is a person who has done all of these amazing things. And she’s just a person on the same beach as you. And she shook your hand, and your hand was so slimy.” Do yourself a favour, and instead of watching Nyad, watch this. The real deal.

Pinch me

Day two of DCT went just swimmingly, with rain and wind in the mix, no vomits, strong shoulders for five hours, and lots of fun. It was so great to meet this crew and learn from their experiences. I highly recommend that anyone planning a Channel swim should try to invest in a weekend of training. It made a massive difference for my mindset for the upcoming swim. Tasting the Channel – it’s frickin’ salty, my dude – definitely helped me get in the headspace for the big gulp.

I waved goodbye to jolly England and after some Lufthansa shenanigans, made my way to Zurich via Amsterdam to meet Holger for the second half of my swim vacation. We loved Zurich and the people we met there two years ago for the Lake Zurich Swim, so it seemed a natural place to meet and continue my training. Zurich is a spectacular lake, with so many swimmer’s amenities in the communities that surround it. We did a mix of camping in Rapperswil and luxury bed and breakfasting at the Oberhaus in Feldbach. Reconnecting with legendary swimmer and friend Martyn Webster led to fun swims at the Rapperswil Seebadi, a trip into the mountains seeking cold water in the Klƶnteralsee, and a list of awesome suggestions that were a veritable Swiss scavenger hunt of swimming. Martyn and Cat also had us over for dinner and to watch some Olympic swimming. I swam in a pool in the lake at Sportbad KƤpfnach, communed with the topless at Seebad Utoquai, and set off from the Oberhaus several times with Holger in a rowboat. Is there anything more romantic than a German in a rowboat, safely (backwards) steering you away from ferries and sailboats? I think not. I left Switzerland full of chocolate and cheese, wishing I could live there someday. I also had some great swims and benefited from many conversations with Martyn about everything from nutrition to mileage.

See? A German in a rowboat.
With Martyn Webster after 8 cool kms.
Sportbad KƤpfnach: a pool in the lake!
Just a girl in Zurich.

Back in Canada, I had two days to recover and leverage the jet lag before the first of my Across the Lake Swim Series events: the Rattlesnake Island 7km Swim. Ten years ago my ex-husband tried to run me over with a canoe, last year I bonked, and this year I won a wooden medal for second place in my age category! Things do change!

Around Rattlesnake Island

The following weekend was the Skaha Lake 11.8 km on August 11, and I had another great swim, finishing third in my age group.

Randy, paddler extraordinaire

I swam the Kalmalka Lake 4.5 swim on August 17 and had another third place finish, and then finished second in my age in the Gellatly Bay 5 km swim just yesterday morning on the very last day of August.

Holger with a bronze in his very first open water swim!

Gellatly capped off a month of races that challenged me to continue my focus on the long game, but forced me to bring my competitive spirit to the table and push myself to swim a double on many of those race days, and another long swim the day after. This genius series is one of the best parts about living in BC, and I am proud to be a Swim Squad ambassador. I do love me some Lake Zurich living, but it doesn’t compare to hugging my swim pals, celebrating our results, and supporting one another in our close-knit swimming community five weeks in a row. I’m so grateful to Emily, Randy, and Julian for paddling assistance this summer, and fun times with Elaine, Deb, Dionne, Phred, Brent, Kylie, Sean, Robynne, and so many others.

A Naramata swim with the wonderful Elaine, aka Naramata Blend

If anything, I am most proud that I have mostly stuck to the plan, leading up to my “Peak Week” seven and six hour back to back swims next weekend. And once those are done, the tapering begins. And at the end of the taper is a body of water that I’ve been waiting for, that waits for me and demands that I be ready. And I will be.

šŸ“· Elaine Davidson

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The Sri Chinmoy 26 km Marathon Swim: Lake Zurich

This post has percolated for a long, long time. Months even! And not just because the name is so fucking long! The swim was long, too. The longest I’ve ever swam!

I successfully completed the Sri Chinmoy 26 km Marathon Swim in Lake Zurich on August 7, 2022. I realize that we are well into 2023, but life happens in the meantime. This is my account/recollection of the event from start to finish.

I’ve spared no gory details, but let’s be honest, those details are what you really want to read, especially if you’re a swimmer considering doing this swim. And you should. It’s a beautiful swim and an incredible experience in an unforgettable location, and there is nothing quite like coming across that finish line and bowing your head to be presented with a beautiful flower lei.

I applied unsuccessfully for the 2019 swim. It hurt my feelings at the time, but with hindsight I realize that I did need to get more training and longer swims under my belt. I applied for 2020 and was thrilled (and terrified) to be accepted. Then a stupid pandemic happened, and it was certain that I would not travel to Switzerland that August. Nor the following August. The organizers were fabulous and provided deferrals, so the goal continued to loom large in my mind. In the meantime, I swam a lot – achieving the first documented length-wise swim of Christina Lake and a bunch more +10km and + 6-hour events. I started dreaming of other BIG SWIMS, and trained my ass off, until finally the swim was only weeks away.

I have a relatively intense job and travel extensively for work, and I knew I’d be in the UK for meetings in the weeks prior to the event. Combining work travel with consistent training is always a challenge, but one that I relish because I’m an obsessive planner and organizer – a human border collie really, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than logistics! I was grateful to log early morning workouts at the pool at the Marlborough School, just a short walk away from the AM head office. I connected with Swim Oxford and organized a 10km private Lock to Lock Swim (thanks Darren) in the Thames – you can read all about it here. Then it was back to London, where I visited many of my favourite lidos and prepared for my version of a taper/sharpening.

Photo credit Darren Roles, Swim Oxford
Parliament Hill Lido, London

Before heading to Zurich, I hopped on the Eurostar and spent 5 glorious days in Annecy, France. This beautiful blue lake was the perfect choice for a few long and leisurely swims, and the historic town centre was scenic and gorgeous (and yes, touristy) and bathed daily in the most glorious golden light. The food of the Haute Savoir region of France is cheese-heavy and I did not abstain from filling my face at the Saturday market, which happened almost right outside my accommodation. To counter the constant inbound flow of fromage, I rented a bicycle every day and rode to many beaches that encircle the lake. Lac D’Annecy is the third largest lake in France (14.7 km) and has its own annual swimming event, and I have pledged a return to these beautiful waters.

A fish needs a bicycle.
Golden Hour in Annecy
The bluest lake in all of France. All of France!

I bid “adieu” to Annecy and travelled onward to meet Holger, meine Liebe and enlisted swim support person in Zurich. The Sri Chinmoy organizers provided many suggestions for accommodations, and I settled on the B & B Oberhaushof in Feldbach, one of the wee towns that encircle Lake Zurich. The Oberhaus has been owned by the same family for 250 years and offers direct access to the lake, the most amazing breakfasts ever, and unrivalled hospitality from proprietors Stefan and Maja Buhler. They are, quite simply, the best. The property is a working organic farm, and also includes an exhibit where guests can “immerse themselves in the history of the house.” I couldn’t believe my luck, especially when shown the Etzel Room, where Holger and I would spend several magical days leading up to the swim (and one on the way back after our subsequent bike trip). You can see Rapperswil Castle from the Oberhaus. You can also swim 2 km directly over to the Seebad (Schlossbadi) Rapperswil. So we did, a few times. It’s the end of the paragraph, but I’m compelled to mention the Oberhaus breakfasts again. šŸ™‚

The Oberhaus in Feldbach

Holger traveled from Leipzig by train and bike to meet me, and I’d rented a bike from Bike Switzerland for our Zurich days and the cycling trip to follow the swim. Having 2 wheels was an excellent way to explore our surroundings and provided easy access to Rapperswill on the lake’s northern tip. The Rapperswil Schossbadi is the start of the swim – and also a great place to chill out and meet new friends like ultra-swimmer Martyn Webster and his wife Cat. I’d connected with Martyn prior to heading to Zurich after following his epic achievements for quite some time. He was extremely generous with his support and advice, even lending me a cooler to keep my fuel cold during the swim. Martyn has accomplished a great deal in open water swimming, and accomplished his own version of the Lake Zurich swim – in the opposite direction and then beyond – the day before the official race. Our conversations with Martyn, over beer and delicious Flammkuchen, were invaluable in helping us understand the support boat system, the water conditions, and other things to expect during the event. The support boats (which you pay for in advance of the swim) are powered by local volunteers. You don’t know what sort of boat you might get until the morning of the swim, and it can range from open rowboats to fully powered miniature yachts (this is Zurich, after all). You can also bring your own kayak and paddler, which many swimmers opt to do since it ensures greater control over the line you will swim.

A note on nutrition here. Fueling strategy is a key part of any long-distance swim and an area of struggle since I started swimming long enough distances to require feeds. I’ve experienced issues with nausea and vomiting (charming, I know) during the last few years, particularly around the 5-6 hour mark, at which point my body tends to violently reject everything I’ve put inside it. There have been some legendary hurls, attempts at using anti-nauseant medications, and endless experimentation with different fuels. I’m sponsored by Hammer Nutrition and love their HEED electrolyte drink but puke up Perpetuem, their endurance fuel. I’ve tried to make the switch to SFuels, which is lower in carbohydrates and supports the body slightly differently. I’ve studied endless literature and experimented with maple syrup, energy bars, gels, sandwiches, chocolate bars….. you name it. In any case, I was prepared to swim this swim using HEED electrolytes, SFuels Train and Race+, Snickers bars and water. My pre-race prep involved labelling bottles and rehearsing feeds so that Holger would know what to throw to me, and on what intervals. He’s a German so usually he just feeds me cheese and bread. More on that later.

On the day before the race, I swam, cycled, relaxed, and visualized, listening to my motivation playlist. I attended the pre-race meeting and tried to ingest and internalize the instructions. Still, I was very glad to have Holger there to keep track of details, including the mandatory cut-off points and emergency procedures, while my mind was on other things. After a relaxing dinner prepared in the ā€œwash houseā€ kitchen in the Oberhaus, packed everything we needed for the boat and the swim and went to bed early with our alarms set for 5:30 am to catch the train to Rapperswill.

Thinking about swimming and cheese.

The next morning we woke to cloudy skies and drizzling rain, as per the forecast. Arriving at the Seebadi, we found muesli and cake, coffee and tea, and 100 swimmers and supporters stretching and milling around. We connected with the support boat pilot (I can’t remember his name), greased up, took some photos, went pee eighteen times, and went through visualizations again and again. Holger wished me luck and went to find our boat – I would not see him again until the swim was underway. All swimmers entered the water and waited for the official start. This is all a memory blur of nerves and emotions to me now, but I remember feeling well-fed, hydrated, and ready to swim, if a little bit intimidated. My goal for this swim had always been to finish since it’s sort of my gateway to even longer swims that I plan to attempt in the future.

Do I look worried? I was worried.

Hours 1-4

And then we started, and I found Holger and the boat. It was an open boat with a small outboard motor, adorned with our number (W1), some balloons, and a very handsome German sitting in the bow. Meeting up with your boat is always a huge relief during long swims. The boat and your support person are your lifelines, information source, and fountain of motivation. They also control the snacks, so you have to be nice to them. I swam alongside the boat for a good hour, feeling mostly fine. It was too early to determine how I measured up to the other swimmers, so I swam comfortably and started feeds about an hour in. During one stop, Holger let me know that our captain wanted to take a detour to his house (?) to get a better jacket. He assured me another boat would monitor me while they quickly zipped out and back. I was surprised and a bit taken aback – but I didn’t kick up a fuss. I treaded water for a few minutes while the other boat came up and kept swimming. When Holger and the captain returned, all went normally for 2 or 3 hours. Then the boat sputtered and stopped. The driver was able to get it going, but it wasn’t long before it shuddered and quit. I missed the entire conversation since I was swimming, but Holger later told me he’d had strong words – in German! Yikes!- with our young captain, who seemed completely overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. Holger demanded that he make a call and get another boat to come. By this time, I was aware of the problem and waited for the next support boat to arrive. I don’t know how long it took, but eventually my second support boat arrived, they moved Holger and all of our supplies over, and I started swimming again. Goodbye, first captain, I hardly knew ye.

Hours 4-9

Boat #2 captained me for the next 4ish hours. Swimming for long stretches impacts your perception of time, so my recollection could be slightly off. My feeds generally went well, and we were sticking to the plan. I had SFuels Train, HEED Electrolytes, water, and Snickers bars. I had Ondasetron for nausea. I knew I was quite far back in the pack, but I was still occasionally passing other swimmers, swimming beside other swimmers for a while, and getting passed by other swimmers. Lake Zurich has no shortage of interesting landmarks to swim past, plus the water was temperate and clear despite the increasing amount of wind, waves and chop. This is just the flow of the swim, and sometimes the flow is against you. It does not help to worry about it or despair about making time or to let my competitive nature take over. In fact, one of the key reasons why I swim is to temper this tendency upon which my career relies, but doesn’t serve me in other areas of my life. What matters is keeping pace, swimming strong, paying attention to my body and thoughts, and remaining connected to my support person. I’ve been lucky to swim with excellent supporters, and Holger is no exception. His calm demeanour, warm smile, and German adherence to process make him an excellent partner and support person. We have had many backcountry adventures where things like nature peeing and tent farting are no big deal. But this swim was the first time he had the great pleasure of watching a full-on vomit come out of my mouth. Yes – nausea struck again, and I spent some time hurling (elegantly) before I was good to go again. I hope this wasn’t when we passed Tina Turner’s house.

The second boat captain appeared to be a no-nonsense type of person, so when I was waved over after a feed, I was concerned to see the concern on both his and Holger’s faces. They told me there was a very real risk that I would not make the cut-off at Meilin, which would effectively pull me out of the race. This information caught me by surprise. The conditions were tough, but I’d thought that my pace was sufficient to get me through the first 13 km in plenty of time. Through all of the planning and safety meetings, I never worried about swimming fast enough. I felt a pang of despair and panic. The delays caused by the boat shenanigans had cost me time that I now had to make up. There was no time to waste. I knew I’d have to increase my pace, shorten my feeds, and spend less time enjoying the scenery. As much as I always seem like I’m in a rush, I don’t actually like to be hurried, and I HATE being late. With the big Meilin church in sight, I kicked it up a solid notch and powered onward.

Hours 9-12

The next few hours went by in a blur. Nobody pulled me out of the water. I mostly consumed electrolytes and water during my feeds since the SFuels just wouldn’t stay down. The conditions didn’t let up, and I felt the exertion in my body and mind. I barely remember this section of the swim as hyperfocus took over and it was just stroke after stroke, head down and moving forward. I continued to swim, and when I looked up I was convinced that Justin Trudeau was in the support boat next to me. Was I hallucinating? At my next feed, Holger told me that there was indeed a new boat and a new boat captain, and he was not Justin Trudeau. Third boat lucky? I hoped so! The second boat had also broken down so they called in another reinforcement. I was so focused on swimming that I hadn’t noticed any of this going on – only a brief acknowledgment in my limbic brain that a handsome, dark-haired man was now driving the boat. Best of all, they told me that I had made the subsequent Kusnachter Horn cutoff and I was going to finish the swim. In fact, I had only 4kms to go – just another hour of swimming. This news gave me great joy and also the motivation to turbocharge the effort of the last section. I declined any further feeds and decided that whatever meagre calories or fumes remaining in my body would have to suffice.

Coming in hot. (Not Justin Trudeau in the boat.)

Again, a blur of an hour that I have difficulty recollecting, and then the end was actually in sight! Holger and the boat captain (not Justin Trudeau) waved goodbye and it was just me swimming into the finish. I knew from watching previous years’ event videos that there would very likely be an interview right at the finish line. I hoped I’d get a flower lei. I hoped I would be able to right myself in order to climb up the steps. This is a legitimate fear. Whether running toward the shore, clambering up a ramp, or climbing stairs, being horizontal for 11 hours poses a challenge to your brain. Knowing it’s being recorded and captured for time immortal is daunting when you are legitimately not sure what your body will do. Thankfully, mine cooperated one last time (thanks, Body!!) and I made it up the stairs to be greeted by very friendly volunteers who put a flower lei over my head and shoved a microphone into my face. They commented that I looked very strong and asked me some questions that I don’t remember. They put a medal around my neck. I was done. I did it. It was over! 26 km from Rapperswill to Zurich by the skin of my birthday suit, but I’d done it and now I could go and projectile barf all over the men’s changeroom in the park (couldn’t find the women’s). I am very, very sorry to whoever might have come across the grisly scene, but I did my best to hide the evidence and returned to the finishing area to celebrate the incoming swimmers and watch the awards. So many amazing, inspiring swimmers. I am honoured to have shared the water with them!

It’s incredible how quickly you switch gears after the extended sensory deprivation of a marathon swim. I hugged Holger (who was already on his third plate of food), chatted with Martyn, posed for photos with a Canadian flag, ate something (not sure what), and congratulated other swimmers – some of whom I’d followed and fangirled on the ‘Gram. Of course, I was interested in my stats. I’d swam the second half faster than the first, thanks to the Meilin cutoff scare. I’d finished in 11 hours and 25 minutes – much slower than I hoped, but still below my goal of 12 hours. I’d done everything I could to prepare feeds that wouldn’t make me sick, but had thrown it all up anyways. As with every swim, there are hard lessons, well-fought wins, and so much gratitude. I am grateful for a partner who is willing to pee into a bottle for nearly 12 hours so that I can chase my dreams, and then give me a smooch after he’s seen me empty my guts. I’m grateful for people like Martyn who share their wisdom and experience, contributing so much to this awesome community of athletes. I’m grateful to the people who sent texts for Holger to read to me during feeds, because every positive message was like a little current in my favour. I’m grateful to the volunteers and the local community, boat captains and all, who make this event so very special. It’s really one of the life-changing ones….believe the hype. Maybe I’ll do it again some day. Anyone want to paddle? šŸ˜‰

Oh, Here I Am

Where did I go? I’m not even sure! Have you seen me?

Oh, here I am, trudging out of the lake covered in weeds, mascara smeared, nipples pointing in opposite directions…and dragging my Swim Buddy behind me like the world’s saddest whoopee cushion. Did you miss me?

The last 7 months have gone by in a blur. I’ve had a lot of blogging false starts. I’ve felt like writing, and then I didn’t. I’d think about a post, and then I’d get busy, and then I’d get hangry, and we all know what happens when I get hangry.

And then a global pandemic happened (WTAF), the pools closed, and I didn’t really know what to do.

This wasn’t in the plan!

I’d been swimming in the most diligent, consistent, and committed fashion of my life. I’d been working with my Kelowna-based coach (the amazing Channel Swimmer Brent Hobbs) to improve my technique (which was apparently “of the 80’s” – go figure!) and increasing my distance weekly: 4 swims a week with one LONG ASS 10 km pool swim on the weekend. I was making regular practices with my local Masters Club, getting workouts in while traveling for work, and even competing in my second Master’s meet in Vernon, BC at the end of January. I smashed my times and really felt on the up and up and up….

My last pool swim in March at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre.

I was focused on swimming a ton of events leading up to the Sri Chinmoy Lake Zurich Swim in August. I had a yoga plan (thanks KERRY!), a strength plan (thanks ANDREA!), plenty of motivation, and even my sandwich-tossing support team figured out (HI SCARLET AND THOMAS!). But when the pools closed, I was at a loss. I figured the best thing to do would be to keep my fitness up, and having a Haus-German with whom to spend much of the lockdown ensured that I got out skiing a lot. Snow is frozen water, after all.

Then all swims were cancelled. I experienced existential grief and angst. I wasn’t easy to get along with. What a year. I was always anxious, always hangry. My gills were closing. 

This coincided with the busiest period I’ve ever had in my career.  Working in education technology means that I have morphed into a 3 inch version of myself who lives in Zoom 12 hours a day and may or may not be wearing pants at any given moment.  I can no longer see more than 2 metres ahead of me, which is ok because that’s how far apart we’re supposed to be anyway.

And then finally, it was mid-May and I decided to stop being such a big girl’s blouse and get in the fucking lake, no matter how cold. 

IT WAS COLD.

SO COLD.

(but I learned that I really, really like it!)

Brrrr

No wetsuit for me – as per Coach Brent. The sanctioned swims I’ve planned do not allow it, so I’ve relegated my sleek Orca rubber to the closet, where it sits in wait and may come in handy for fighting/committing crimes.

Early season training couldn’t come soon enough, and I headed out to Christina Lake as much as possible to test my cold boundaries and gradually increase my time in the water before meeting up with Coach Brent and Channel Swimmer Emilie Epp in Kelowna for the first LONG ASS cold water swim, where I swam for 2.5 hours in 13 degrees. It was exhilarating, even if my hands turned into lobster claws and I couldn’t get my car key in the lock. I couldn’t feel my own face, but that’s ok because we’re not supposed to touch faces anyway. 

As it’s gradually warmed, I’ve had lots of lake time at Christina, Slocan, Okanagan, and Nancy Greene. I did a short bike tour with The German, and I bought a super cool, easily transportable, foldable Oru Kayak to encourage support paddlers to join me in the beautiful BC sunshine (and thunder and lightning and rain….June was pretty wet!).

I’ve finally been able to swim with Coach Brent this week. He took me on a sunset cruise under the Kelowna Bridge (both ways), which was reminiscent of that scene inThe Perfect Storm – and I loved it. We talked about goals – I’m still planning to swim the 18.9 km length of Christina Lake – and one REALLY BIG GOAL that I am not ready to talk about yet.

So much depends on whether the pools open this fall/winter. So much depends on getting more than one hour in a lane.

So much depends on everyone wearing a fucking mask and washing their hands and not partying on houseboats and not hugging each other.

Navigating this new normal is not easy, but doing it in the water is making a lot of difference for me. Better thinking, natural exhaustion, fresh air…

I really missed this. I’m glad to be back. Let’s go for a swim.

You’re Gonna Eat Lightning

Well, let’s end this year on an unexpected note, shall we?
Last year, having really upped my game in the long distance swim department, I applied for a place in the Sri Chinmoy Lake Zurich 26 km Marathon Swim.
I didn’t get in, but was told by the organizers that swimmers are rarely chosen in their first application attempt. They encouraged me to keep applying and I put it on my list for 2019. The date came around in September, and I dutifully sent in my info with very low expectations and a tiny glimmer of hope that I might make the cut. And a tiny glimmer of terror that if I was selected, I would have to swim 26 km. In one go.
On December 15, I checked my email just as Air Canada was making love to me sideways over a barrel with a cancelled work flight and sure enough…I have a place! I read the email over a few times, laughed twice, shit my pants (figuratively) and then immediately told my VIPs, followed by Facebook and Instagram.
So what does this mean?
The swim is 26 km in Lake Zurich. That’s in Switzerland, in case you slept through geography or are American. Just kidding. I love Americans.
Here’s a little illustration of the route.
Screen Shot 2018-11-18 at 7.58.57 PM
26 km is a long way. I assume that if I’m even physically capable of such a feat, it will take me at least 10 hours. I have signed up for the wetsuit category, but I may rethink this as I connect with others who have done the event.
I’m looking for a coach to start with in January – someone who will work with me on stroke technicalities, a training plan, and some accountability. I’ve put some feelers out there and hope to meet my Mickey Goldmill in the coming weeks. I’m totally prepared to run after chickens and everyone knows that grey sweatpants and a toque are already part of my training style.
Screen Shot 2019-12-22 at 11.26.30 PM
I don’t know if I can do it.
I don’t know if I can’t.
I don’t know how much fondue I will eat at the finish line.
I don’t know if I should plan a little bike trip before or after.
I don’t know much, but:
  • I know I love swimming, especially in lakes.
  • I love a challenge. Especially a big one.
  • I love Switzerland. I had a taste this past summer, and I’m excited to go back.
  • I need a big goal to focus on in 2020.
  • I will have a boat, but I do need a support person in it to throw me snacks and water and tell me to not die or cry. This person may have to either wear a diaper or control their bodily functions for up to 12 hours. I’ll be taking applications soon. Not everyone at once!

I’m going to eat lightning and I’m going to crap thunder. Knowing this makes a hard year a bit better.

Less Now

I’m going to be honest. I’m swimming less. Writing less, if at all. Feeling less. Connecting less.

Less of everything, except work (nobody I know can afford to do less of that), because I have struggled to focus since my Dad, Kelly Bowers, passed away suddenly in September.

This ability to only do less has impacted my training, my relationships, and certainly my health.

A whoosh of energy left me about 2 weeks after it happened. I caught a virus, probably from hugging and shaking hands with a thousand people. The virus settled deep in my chest and my ears, where long days of coughing sap my energy, I can’t hear very well, and I often feel dizzy. I feel fragile and sore. My rotator cuff is not healing.

I know that I need to exercise every single day – as a mood-regulator but also to store up energy for what is quite a demanding schedule. But sometimes all I can manage is a dog walk or a half-hearted hotel gym workout.

Swimming is tough right now because there’s no getting away from the mental gymnastics that happen when you’re churning lengths, and no distractions from the inner flicker of memories and replay. I have used this to my advantage previously when going through other major life challenges, but those challenges sought solutions and clarity that seemed to require focused breathing and really thinking scenarios through.

Dealing with death is very different.

I am consistently sad. I’m super cautious about feeling anything extreme, like excitement or anger. I’m protective and sometimes self-destructive. I’m hesitant to plan – which, as a natural planner – feels weird and unnatural. There are motions to go through and days to get through.

I’ve let some goals exist in a blurry bucket which is where they have to be right now. I’ll find out in a few weeks if I’ve been accepted for the 26 km Lake Zurich swim next August. I have another Master’s meet in January. (More on October’s event soon.) I have a slew of other 2020 events in Europe and Oregon and B.C. to register for. But all of this is taking a backseat to getting back to a place of motivation, dedication, and focus. Getting back to being tough, and finding the fun and challenge in this grand open water swimming experiment that has given me so much.

I’m grateful for the patience of my people, and I’m impatient for wanting more.

But right now it’s less. Bear with me.

Mission Accomplished!

What a year!

What started as what can only be called an annus horribilisĀ (accent on annus) ended brilliantly as a number of things in my life started to reset and align. I feel like I have a new brain and a new body. All I need now is a new training playlist for the hours I’ll log in the pool over the next few months.

Let’s get this out of the way before moving on to the good shit: I wasn’t successful in my application for the Lake Zurich Swim. This was expected, but I was still a little disappointed. I only allowed one single tear to roll down the right side of my face. I will apply again for 2020 and my application will stand a much greater chance. All the fondue will be mine. ALL THE FONDUE!

OK – the good shit:

I hit my training goal of 200,000 metres this morning!

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My favourite screen capture of 2018.Ā 

With just 1900 m to go, I hauled my Ā sleepy ass down to the Trail Aquatic Centre and knocked out an easy workout that culminated in a deep dive down to the bottom of the pool to rescue some kid’s sunken goggles, and then a delicious soak in the hot tub.

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My home away from home: The Trail Aquatic Centre

I followed that up with a slack-country ski date with a good pal and a restorative nap during which I did indeed dream of sugar plums. It felt great to hit the milestone and even better to think that next year I might double it.

My training did slow down with the busy-ness of December, and the pleasant distraction of skiing taking priority. Ā While swimming is my brain and body, skiing is truly my heart. I spent a few romantic (squeee) days at the International Hostel in Lake Louise exploring the myriad of cross-country trails and a bluebird day of downhill with the cute German boyfriend, who insisted on carrying my skis. This has never happened before and I am still crowing on about it. He carried my skis!

I had a house full of my beloved family visiting for Christmas and one much needed rest day with Netflix, pillows, and cookie snarfing. And maybe some leftover Bailey’s.

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Christmas skiing fam jam

Next up is New Year’s Eve and then I will start to work on creating my swimming plans and resolutions for 2019.

I love New Year’s Resolutions. Partly because I love to break them and make them all over again, but also because I’m someone who loves lists and lists of goals and plans and frameworks and systems. It’s the perfect time to reflect on the year that was and to set some goals for the year ahead before everything gets busy and crazy.

2018 was my most challenging year in many ways…but somehow it magically turned into one of my best years with a whole open sky of clear sailing (and swimming!) for 2019.

Some preliminary highlights of 2018 include:

  • Starting this blog. I really love writing, so it’s been healthy and motivating to document my progress, warts, deadbeats and all.
  • Kicking off my distance training with a solid plan from the Prairie Girls Swim Squad that I actually followed. Can we have another one for 2019, please?
  • epic 3 day Kootenay Lake swim with the awesome Steven family
  • completing my first Lake Skaha Ultra Swim
  • my destination swim trip to London to experience the lidos and the Serpentine Swim
  • achieving my 200,000 metre training goal
  • HE CARRIED MY SKIS!

I’ll have more to say about 2018 in the upcoming days as I formulate a few swimming “Best of ” lists.

Thank you for all of your encouragement (not you, Glen) and comments this year – and thanks for reading! May your towel be warm and dry, and your goggles unfoggy. Happy New Year!

Give It 6 Months

I visited Edmonton for work this week, and stayed downtown at the Westin. No big deal – I’m frequently in and out of Edmonton and although usually I stay at the Delta South, it was more convenient to be downtown for my appointments.

I have avoided that particular Westin like the plague, since it was the site of my ā€œrestructuringā€ from my former job at the end of March this year. I knew full well that the axe was about to fall on my neck. The signs were all there, and my former boss wasn’t so stealthy in concealing her plans. Sloppy and cruel even. On the day before my beheading, she even sent a meeting request for the wrong time, so that I ended up waiting outside the chambre de guillotine for an hour. She texted and told me to go and “have a nice breakfast”, but I didn’t and hid behind a pillar and watched the executioners enter the room.

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Once my head was removed, I spoke with my lawyer, chatted with colleagues, took a nap, ordered room service, and then went for a swim. Or at least I think that was the order of events. I definitely remember the swim.

Two weeks later, I started in my awesome new position with the world’s best company, landing in a role that aligns closely with my values and my skill set, with leadership who lead, for real. Ā My head slowly reattached itself to my body. I healed.

A close friend said to me ā€œGive it 6 months. You’ll be a new person.ā€

In the year I’d spent in my previous role, I gave up much more than my head. A gruelling travel schedule saw me away from home nearly 80% of the time. A company culture of working until exhaustion saw me diagnosed with Metabolic Syndrome – constantly swollen and stressed, with broken blood vessels in my eyes. I gained 35 pounds, even when living on Air Canada pretzels – a lot when you’re barely 5 foot 4. I didn’t even buy a ski pass last year. I did one measly, disappointing swim in the summer of 2017. I was mired in Excel spreadsheets full of numbers that meant nothing. My wetsuit hung pathetically in my closet.

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When I reflect back, the relentless travel and long hours did serve a purpose: keeping my mind away from the end of my marriage. Although when I was finally operating like a normal person again, I experienced what my therapist calls ā€œdelayed griefā€, and it became one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with – but 6 months after the fact. I cannot recommend this approach to moving through traumatic life events.

When I started this swim blog, I was (head intact) searching for positive habits and an approach to recovery, rather than reinvention. I wanted to peel back the barnacles and find the person underneath. Shuck my own oyster. A changed person, indeed, but a person with undeniable basic needs:

  • swimming, or to be in or near water as much as possible
  • other consistent and regular exercise
  • time with my daughter
  • time with my friends
  • good nutrition
  • sleep
  • kindness

There are a few other bullet points, but this is a family blog. Within 6 months, I had completed and exceeded my initial swim goals. I had established myself in my new, amazing role and loved starting work every single day. I had started divorce and other necessary legal proceedings. I’d started running. I’d bought new underwear. I grew my hair and fulfilled a lifelong dream of becoming a roadie for a rock and roll band. Just kidding. That never happened. šŸ˜‰ I started working with a business coach. I signed up for the future.

This is not to hold myself up as any sort of role model. There’s plenty that happened within the last 6 months that I’m not proud of. But there’s plenty that I am proud of. And 6 months becomes 7, and then 8, and then 9, and then suddenly I’m at the Westin again with my head attached to my neck and I’m shaking it because I can hardly believe how much is possible with a little, or a lot of:

  • swimming, or being in or near water as much as possible
  • other exercise
  • time with my daughter
  • time with my friends (Wow, do you ever learn who those are, and aren’t, Glen.)
  • good nutrition (no Air Canada pretzels, thank you)
  • sleep
  • kindness

I have just over 8,000 more metres to swim to achieve my 2018 training goal, and 2 weeks to learn whether my application for the Lake Zurich swimĀ is accepted. Within the next 6 months, more amazing things will happen, and more change, because that’s the constant and the way it should be for me.

And the next time I stay in Edmonton, it won’t be at the Westin. Not because I don’t like it (ohhh Heavenly Bed, you’re the best), but I left my old head there and I don’t really want it back.

Where Attention Goes, Energy Flows (to Zurich?)

The snow is falling outside my cozy Rossland home. Ski season is approaching, and with it comes all of the feelings of excitement and anticipation that I revel in every year.

And while I’m pumped to slay the fresh Kootenay powder very soon, I’m racking up my pool kilometres and focusing on my 200,000 metre training goal for the year. This week I swam in Castlegar while my daughter did her practicum for her Water Safety Instructor course, and in Trail at the Aquatic Centre. It was great to spend time in my local pools after a few weeks of back to back work travel. I’m swimming shorter workouts (averaging 3- 4 km each time) and concentrating on drills and form.

And as the end of a year with a lot of goals approaches, I’ve been making some big plans for next year.

The biggest is a trip to Switzerland in August to attempt the 32nd Annual Sri Chinmoy Marathon Swim across Lake Zurich. It’s a 26 km event and it would be amazing – IF I get in. That’s big IF.

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I applied for a spot in the event this week. A disclaimer on the site warns first-time swimmers that spaces are first allotted to those who have applied but not been selected from previous years. So, it’s a bit of a long shot, but I only have to wait until December 15 to see if my application is successful. Those who know me will know that while the previous sentence might claim nonchalance, there is nothing I hate more than waiting. For anything. Especially when it looks like this much fun.

And if my application is successful, then this swim would represent my most epic to date. Lake Zurich is 26 km long. The swim starts in Rapperswil and ends in Zurich. Swimmers go past several Swiss Alp towns en route to the finish, so I could easily stop for a cheese and chocolate fondue. I signed up in the no-wetsuit category, since I’ve been informed that the European lakes are recently very warm in the summer, and Lake Zurich is likely to be warmer than 22 degrees in August. Plus, can you imagine the neck chafing? No cheese is gonna help with that.

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I’m reminded of how I felt when I registered for the Skaha Ultra Swim. At 11.8 km, it was much longer than any event I’d ever attempted, and I understood clearly how necessary a focused training plan would be. For this greater challenge, the usual questions emerge:

  • Can I physically do this?
  • Why do I want to do this?
  • How will I fit in enough training with X and Y going on in my life?
  • Am I nuts?
  • Why is Glen reading my blog?
  • What are the steps?

The application itself is the first step. A conscious commitment to extending my distances through careful and deliberate planning and prioritizing is a close second. It’s not that I finished any of my longer distances this year with energy to spare, but rather that I feel suddenly able to tap into a newfound endurance that I never knew I had. And it isn’t just physical, although I have noticed that my fitness and Ā strength have markedly increased in the last few months. I even did a few handstand pushups this week. There’s nothing like being upside down to bring some fresh blood into the brain.

Which leads me to step 3 –Ā Ā mindset, especially with regard to this surge of energy. Ā It’s also that I’m unencumbered by the former roadblocks that kept my confidence low. I’m starting to see my own life in a much more expansive sense, and I feel like the future is wide open. I’m not exactly wearing shades (prescription sunglasses are too expensive), but I’m far more curious and unafraid than I was 6 months ago when I could hardly get through a workout without literally stimming on negative thoughts. The swimming successes of the past summer also play a major role in focusing on building my potential. I had no idea that I’d be able to consistently keep up the training I needed to do. But I did, and I think it’s all down to focus and that a person like me really deeply needs goals and milestones.

A person I respect said to me recently, “Where attention goes, energy flows.” And although I’m not big on mantras (I prefer mantas), I honestly say this to myself, despite myself, several times a day. It seeps into planning my swim workouts, my nutrition, my cross-training, and all of the other things I do in this open water life and life on land. BECAUSE IT’S TRUE. Try it, you’ll like it.

If I’m not selected for the Lake Zurich Swim I will cry for a day and then work to build a back up plan. A back up plan that involves chocolate and cheese, but maybe a different destination and a different direction for my attention (and my fondue) to flow.