In a week and day, the Cole Classic ocean race will finally happen. It's only taken around 12 weeks of training in the pool and in the ocean to get to this day. I've been through hell and back, and here I was feeling confident, maybe even slightly cocky, that I can actually make the race.
Well, I certainly am not feeling terribly confident today after the mother of all panic attacks in our very last surf training session and graduation day today. And frankly, I didn't really see it coming. Yes, I was nervous as usual, but I really felt like I was getting on top of the fear. The morning didn't start out clear, and the surf report on the radio was dire - dangerous swells developing, the bureau said, although our radio station's surf expert said that so far it was looking pretty flat and non-swelly. But that didn't really bother me - I had swum through choppy surf before and struggled and swore etc. as per usual, but I did manage. Heck, the sun even came out just before we got in the water, and I actually got a little excited as I knew the visibility in the water would be lovely and not murky.
The training task sounded pretty simple - a lazy 400 metre or so swim from Fairy Bower (what I also call the halfway beach between Shelley and Manly Beach) to Manly, and we would even get to practice swimming in on the waves, just like what we needed to do on race day. I felt I was ready.
I was wrong. Within the first few metres I was feeling overwhelmed by the choppy waves crashing into my face, and I really had no way out as I default beathing on my right side and that's where the waves were coming in. I stopped and started, stopped and started. I had Coach Mike behind me, Coach Annie on the surf ski and my lovely North pod mate Jess who offered to swim with me and help me through it. And still, with all this support I was monopolising, I struggled through what I felt was the hardest few hundred metres swimming I had ever done.
I was so angry with myself, so pissed off. How could I be struggling so much at this late stage? I was getting all the encouragement I could possibly need and probably really didn't deserve (I felt like I needed a good kick in the head), and I was still failing to swim. I tried positive talk, I tried to distract myself by looking at the lovely fish, I tried to think of the people going through cancer who I was swimming for, I tried singing, I tried to think of food, I thought of my motto (HTFU...HTFU...) - and yet after a few strokes I would be buffeted by the waves again and I would be jolted into stress mode.
We rounded the point and seemingly all of a sudden the waves got bigger. Coach Annie on the surf ski was bobbing up and down so much she would disappear from my sight at the trough of a wave. I could just see Jess's blue rashie intermittently ahead of me. Coach Mike had swum ahead to catch up with the rest of the team. The waves kept getting bigger. And I went from just being stressed to just being panicked. I was swallowing water. I was hyperventilating. I was screaming at myself to "Calm!!! Calm!!!" and then a wave would hit and I would scream.
I couldn't stop myself from sliding down the slippery slope of negative thoughts. I started screaming I didn't want to do this anymore, I just didn't want to be here anymore. And at this stage, all I wanted to do was cling to Coach Annie's surf ski and cry my eyes out. I kept on saying that all I wanted to do was go to shore - I could see Manly Beach, surely I could just swim in. But Coach Jon came up and said I simply had two choices - I could swim back to Fairy Bower where we had just come from, or get on the surf ski and paddle back. The waves were getting so big, booming into Manly, that it was too dangerous to swim in.
I couldn't bear the thought of swimming any more, so I chose to get on the surf ski. After managing to wriggle my fat arse on it, with great difficulty and incredibly ungracefully, the first big wave came and almost knocked me out of it. Swimming didn't seem so bad after all. But after a few strokes that was taking me further out to sea (to try and get into some calm water), something just snapped in me and I became the stubborn and bullheaded bitch that I am - I was determined to swim to shore, right there, right now, and no one was going to stop me. I just had had enough - I didn't want to be in that water anymore.
I set off with the wonderful Jess and I swam like crazy. I kept on looking behind me, hoping and praying that no big waves would come. Thankfully I decided to swim in when there was a bit of a lull between the big waves. Within a few minutes Jess motioned for me to stand on the sandbar. I was so excited that I thought we were finally on the beach - I ripped off my goggles and burst into sobs, only to have Jess and Richard K (who was next to me by now) scream out "Wave!!! Behind!!!" I shut my eyes tightly just when a wall of white water hit my back and over my head, pushing me forward, my legs madly bicycling under me, and I'm trying to stay upright and get purchase on the sandbar. After getting my breath back, Richard told me to get my goggles back on and we would swim to the beach together, with Jess not far to the side.
And finally, land underneath my feet, with relief, shame, anger and defeat all rolled into the big ball that sat in my chest.
Richard kept on telling me how awesome it was, seeing me swim through the waves. And Jess was there, smiling and saying that I did well. And all I could think about was what a failure I was, how I couldn't even stay with my team, my fellow 1 k'ers, and how I monopolised Coach Annie for all that the time that I was such a big baby.
I got to the surf life saving club, saw TC Josan, and had a fresh gush of tears. After a long hug and more support (and isn't Can Too just so wonderful dealing with such problem children like me), I realised that none of my team mates were there. And all the 2 km swimmers were nursing blue bottle stings. I was then told that everyone in my team was asked to swim to Fairy Bower - yep, the directive that I was given that I blatantly ignored. I felt even worse - I was so mortified. Here I was, already home and hosed, and they were all probably still swimming and battling those waves.
I set off on the footpath to try and meet them. By this time, the surf life saving boats were roaring in and out of the waves, plucking boogie boarders and swimmers out of the rip. The conditions were terrible. I couldn't believe I was out there. I was so relieved to see the rest of the 1 k'ers walking up the path, tired and covered with blue bottle stings (yep, they all got stung!), but all in one piece. I was sheepish facing Coach Jon and Coach Mike, feeling so sorry that I was such a pain. Coach Jon was rather firm in telling me that I needed to listen to them when they told me what to do, but I was in such a state of panic that frankly, I wasn't really listening to anybody at that stage.
When I finally heard about how hard it had been for everyone else swimming back to Fairy Bower, as instructed, I felt worse and worse. How could I be so weak? How could they have all managed to do what I couldn't even do half of? A small part of me was so relieved that I chose not to swim back, as I think being stung by blue bottles would really have been the end of my tether. But the fact that I panicked, I didn't listen, and I left my friend behind - well, it just made me feel like crap.
No comments:
Post a Comment