Post-Race Postscript

I have been incredibly overwhelmed by the support, encouragement, generosity and love that I have been showered with on this Can Too journey that culminated in the Cole Classic.  And it was all this plus the fantastic training I received from the Can Too coaches and mentors that got me through to the finish line on Manly Beach.

To my surprise, I wasn't the very last person from my group coming in, and I did the course in a slow but respectable 36 minutes and 33 seconds (I was aiming to do it in 45 minutes).  It was no doubt the hardest physical challenge I've had to undertake in my life.  Despite the best conditions we could wish for (no choppy waves, sunny but not too hot, good water temp), I have to say I still found it incredibly difficult and scary.  But what I had to go through is nothing compared to what others go through with cancer treatment. 

All I can say is thank you: thank you for being with me on my Can Too journey; thank you for all your wonderful words of comfort and support; and thank you for simply being there as loving family and friends. 

And thanks to your very generous donations, I have pretty much reached - and exceeded! - my $5,000 target that will fund 5.55% of a researcher who will be working hard to find a cure for cancer.

I had such fast and furious bidding for the dinner, I have decided to not have my two top bidders miss out so I am cooking TWO dinners of $950 each (for the Hungry Hordes and the TC's significant birthday), and this whole amount of $1,900 goes to Can Too. 

My mates Jen and Kath and I raised a significant amount of money from the premiere of Black Swan in Sydney too - thanks to everyone who came and hope you enjoyed the movie, even though the word "enjoyed" might be a bit relative considering the rather dark and oddness of the movie!

Finally, in answer to the question: so am I swimming the 2 km ocean race next year?  As much as I hate to disappoint, I have to say that is it for ocean swimming for me, at least in the competitive sense.  I will continue swimming in the pool (I can now do 1.5 km in the pool with ease and I'm determined to better my technique and be a wee bit faster) and I will go back into my role as "energy champion" and volunteer for the Can Too runners now training for the SMH Half Marathon in May.

I've ticked the box, I've done what I set out to do, and frankly, I don't really want to go through what I went through again.  But apparently I've been told ocean swimming is a bit like childbirth - you forget the pain and decide that it's worth doing all over again!  :)

Thank you again so much, and all I can say is GO CAN TOO!!!!!!!!!!!

I DID IT!!!!

After 12 weeks of training, panic attacks, lots of tears and massive doubts of actually reaching my goal, I finally did it - the 1 km Cole Classic for Can Too.

For the first time in four years, the Cole Classic actually ran its course from - from Shelly Beach finishing off at Manly Beach.  It was a beautiful day - warm but not too hot, calm waters with a very slight hint of chop, a slight breeze that was cooling and refreshing against the humidity in the air.  The day came after one of the most wretched nights - the second hottest night in Sydney, with pretty much a constant 27 degrees throughout.  Restless sleep was punctuated by mosquito bites - not exactly a great night preceding my first ever (and last ever!!!) ocean race.

I kept to the game plan though, and I got up at 5:30 a.m. with the intent of getting to Manly by 6:30 a.m. so I could warm up and psych up before the race.  Adrian got up early in sympathy - he was heading over to Manly on the 7:50 a.m. bus with our close friends the McCoskers and Margaret-Anne. 

I had all my kit packed up the day before, so it was a simple manner of coffee, ablutions, into my swimmers and into the taxi.  A text from the lovely Penny came through, full of love and encouragement, and the tears - not very far from the surface obviously! - spilled over.  I got to the Can Too tent for a quick chat with Adam and a hug from Wendy (and more tears from me), and I was off for my warm ups. 

As I walked to the ocean pool towards Shelley Beach, I looked out over the water and was so eternally grateful that it was calm, calm, calm.  In fact, it was the calmest I had ever seen Manly.  Up to that point, I think I was still giving myself permission to back out if the conditons were horrendous.  I felt it wasn't fair on the many water safety staff to launch msyelf into the race only to have to be rescued.  I prayed fervently that the conditions would stay calm throughout the morning - there was still a good 2 hours before I had to swim the race, and the sea was a fickle beast.

After a few laps in the ocean pool, it was time to get into Shelley Beach.  I had 20 or so minutes before the whole Can Too team were going to have the pre-race briefing and warm up with the Coaches.  The water was a great temp - I was feeling more and more confident that I could actually do this. 

The Can Too-ers started streaming in.  In the space of a few minutes, Shelley Beach was awash with Can Too swimsuits and budgie smugglers - God it felt good to be part of such a great and supportive team!  This was what it was all about - the Can Too camaraderie and the feeling of being united against a single goal: to find the Cure for cancer.  

A last few words from Coach Jon and Col on the race course and where to sight on land, and we were ready for the warm up swim.  I readied myself by putting on my swim cap and my ear plugs.  Oh, but time for one more big group photo.  Naturally, being one of the shortest people in the group, I was front row and happened to be centre. 

I saw Annie fronting the Channel Seven tv crew, and then the camera swung towards us and instructions were given to smile and cheer.  I could vaguely hear the anchorman call out questions - who was swimming their first ocean race? Me!! Who didn't really know how to swim before joining the Can Too program?  Oh, that would be me too!!  I thought I then heard him ask: who hadn't really swum in the ocean before Can Too? I enthusiastically raised my hand again - and oh, I was the only one with my hand up.  Oh, he was headed towards me with the mike.  Oh, he was going to get a sound bite from me.  Eeeeeeek!!!  I hurriedly took out my ear plugs while the Can Too-ers around me clapped and cheered.  I could only hope that the camera was staying right on my face and nowhere below my neck - I sucked in my stomach anyway. 

And if you want to see my 2.5 seconds of fame, you can see it on the Can Too website (under Fun, Fitness and Fundraising) or directly on this link (thank you Channel Seven!).

Enough of being the media tart, I needed to now channel my inner super fish and get myself into ocean swim mode.  The first wave of the elites started at 8:30 - I was in the third of five "back of the pack" waves and I was starting at 9:15.

As I got myself into the corral with a whole heap of other Can Too-ers, I spied Margaret-Anne charging through the crowds, freaked out that she was going to be late to see me start,  Adrian was not far behind, and I was touched to see pretty much the whole McCosker clan out in force to cheer me on.  A quick hug from the hubby, yet again a few more tears (I was drying up by now, surely!!), and it was time to swim.

There were an awful lot of people in my wave.  I stuck to my plan and positioned myself at the very back of the pack.  I was determined to take it slow, at my own pace.  I was going to swim my own race, no one else's.  I dove in.  No amount of warming up still prepared me for the shock of the change in temperature from being on land to being in the water.  As expected, I started to lose my breath a bit after a hundred metres or so - I reminded myself that this was part of the plan, that I just needed to push through this, and it didn't matter if I needed to tread water and doggie paddle - I just needed to keep moving forward and not stop. 

The wonderful thing was the first bit of the course from Shelley Beach to the first buoy off Fairy Bower (known as halfway beach in my mind and in this blog) was parallel to the walkway.  So everytime I popped my head up to tread some water, I heard this mad screaming from my own personal cheer squad of Adrian, Margaret-Anne and the McCoskers - "Go Rache!!!  Go go go Rachey!!!  You can do it!!! Woo hoooo!!!"  Now I know what it felt like for the runners that I cheered in as a Can Too energy champion.  It was fabulous.  I wanted to wave and let them know I could hear them, but that meant stopping swimming, and I knew it would be hard to get going again.  I needed to get into my rhythm - I knew the hardest bit of the course was yet to come.

As I rounded the first buoy, I could see the second buoy in the distance - it looked awfully far away.  I steeled myself not to think ahead - if I thought too much I would get stressed and panic and stop.  It was awfully lonely not to hear my cheer squad anymore.  I knew it was just me and my inner voice.  So I counted strokes,  I chanted my motto - HTFU, HTFU.  I thought of everything Coach Dee, Coach Jon and Coach Mike told me.  I encouraged myself with the wonderful piece of jewelry the hubby promised me (a diamond ring for my right hand!!  At last!!!!)  I counted some more - 10, 20, 50, 100.  I looked up to try and see the second buoy.  Damn it, why didn't it look like it was getting closer? 

And then, I saw it - the first pink cap came up on my right side with a churning of arms and legs.  Oh God, the wave after us, all wearing pink caps, were finally catching up to me.  And catch up they did - within a few strokes, I was surrounded by pink caps.  I started getting hands touching my arms.  Legs brushing past my body.  White water and lots of bubbles against my face.  I fought to stay calm.  I wasn't very good with being in the middle of the pack and in the "churn" - I had panicked twice before during training, which is why I was focused on staying at the back of my pack.  But being so slow, I knew there was every chance I would get caught by the next wave of swimmers.  I tried to keep to my rhythm.  I kept counting.  I kept being buffeted.  Where was that darned buoy?? 

Finally, it was there - the buoy was finally within easy sight and easy reach. Only maybe 20 strokes to go.  I tried to ease myself to the edges of the pack to try and not get sandwiched around the buoy.  The churn was terrible by now - I was well and truly in the thick of a flurry of pink caps, all madly swimming around me, all arms and legs, all trying to get around that buoy.  By some miracle I managed to keep overarm swimming (never never breastroke around a buoy, we were all told) without being pushed under.  But the panic I had been tightly reining in all this time was starting to leak out as I started to hyperventilate and have difficulty catching my breath.  I reminded myself that the shore was so so close now, probably only 5 more minutes away, and the waves would help bring me in.

I was getting tired.  I was getting breathless.  I was at the very edge of the pack and I was still getting hit by the pink caps.  The waves started getting bigger, and then I was in the break zone.  I could see the beach bobbing up and down in the horizon and this line of people at the finish line.  I knew I was not far, but I was seriously hyperventilating and getting worried I wouldn't have the energy to walk, much less run out of the surf. 

And then I felt a hand go right between my legs and up my butt - not intentionally of course, just another swimmer trying to get through the throng.  But this totally threw me and I ended up totally losing my rhythm and swallowing a whole heap of sea water.  I couldn't get my breath back, and the waves were breaking madly - I knew I was going to be in trouble if I didn't stop. 

So I did what was always in reserve in my plan - if I needed to, I resolved I would call a water safety person over to help me catch my breath.  I spied the nearest water safety guy on a yellow board and I raised my hand and feebly called out "help".  In a flash he was off the board and paddling to me. He got to me and as I grasped the handles of the board with a death grip, he called out "Do you want me to paddle you in?"  Between gasps of rasping breath I told him "No...I...just...want...to...catch...my...breath!!!"  He was incredibly lovely, oh, and did I mention he was the most gorgeous guy in the world at that moment?  (Sorry, honey.) He was so encouraging.  He said "It's all right, you're not that far.  You're only around 20 metres away.  You can do it.  Just take long slow deep breaths.  That's good.  Take all the time you want.  I can paddle right next to you as you swim in and you can take another rest if you want to."  How can one possibly not keep swimming with that wonderful encouragement and support - and he wasn't even from Can Too!!  The world is full of lovely people.

So I swam.  I was still having trouble controlling my breath, but I had no choice - the finish was so close, it was stupid to quit now.  I tried to keep looking back to see what the waves were doing.  I managed to see one wave about to crash over me, and I knew I was going to get caught in the white water.  I did what Simon taught me - I held my breath and ducked as low as I can.  There were stacks of white water in front of my goggles, I felt my legs madly pedalling to stay afloat, and then it was past.  I swam some more.  My lovely water safety guy left me as it was getting too shallow for him to paddle, plus he was needed elsewhere - his job was done with me.  And my job was almost done - it was such a sweet feeling to finally feel the sand beneath my feet.

And the first Can Too person I saw on the shore was Coach Dee, in her swimsuit, madly jumping up and down and pointing and screaming at me to run to the finish line.  I had a vague thought wondering what she was doing in her swimmers, as I knew she wasn't swimming.  It was only after that I was told the story - she was with all the other Can Too supporters on the beach when she saw me hail the water safety guy, and she thought I was  quitting and was going to be rescued.  Of all the Coaches, she knew how hard the journey had been for me.  But she was darned if I was going to quit now.  So apparently she threw off her hat and sunnies, stripped off her shorts and ran to the surf, with every intent to swim to me to help me get to the finish line.  She only stopped when she saw me keep swimming.  And she joined the other Can Too-ers who were screaming and cheering me to the finish line.

I was exhausted.  I was wheezing.  I was sobbing.  Snot was streaming down my nose.  My knees were killing me.  And I was expected to run to the damned finish line!  I broke into a jog but that didn't help my breathing at all.  I stopped to walk a little bit.  Why in the world did they put the finish line so far away from where we swam in???  Of course it was a bit further for me still because I stayed so close to the edge of the pack, furthest away from the finish liine.  As the big inflatable thing that was the finish line loomed up, I gave it one more burst and ran as best I could so I cross that line running.  As I crossed, I put my hand on my knees and tried hard not to vomit. The sobs were coming thick and fast.  Leanne and another Can Too-er who were just beyond the finish line saw me and rushed to me to hug me and congratulate me.  I was sobbing uncontrollably, and I was hyperventilating like hell.  The first slightly coherent words that came out of me went along the lines of  "F*** that was horrible, I'm never going to do that again!!!!!" 

Two lifeguards came over and started leading me to the medical tent.  I managed to sob out "No medical tent!!  I'm fine!!!"  They kindly helped me to get my tag taken off, and in a daze I was led through to the recovery area.  The medal was placed around my neck, I was handed a sports drink, and then Margaret-Anne was there, pushing herself through the crowds to wrap me in a hug.  Then there was a crush of people, and I could see faces I loved - first Claire, then Penny.  Then I glimpsed Adrian through the crowds and erupted in fresh tears.  I barely registered the tall guy in front of him holding a little boy on his shoulders, and they were smiling at me.  It was only then I realised that it was my brother in law Chris and my nephew Jesse - they drove all the way from Wollongong to cheer me in.  I was so touched.  But all I wanted was to hug my husband, and hear him tell me how much he loved me and how proud he was of me.  Then it was the McCoskers, then it was my sister in law Zoe and baby Tessa in the pram, then we were being hustled out of the crowds through to beyond the surf club for some light and fresh air. 

I was so glad it was over.

Ocean swim race?  Tick! Now off the bucket list, and I never have to do it again. 

Pre-Race Day Calm and Melting...

It's almost time to go to bed, but it's so still bloody hot.  It's been the hottest day so far this summer and know what it feels like to be a popsicle!  But my hubby is a legend as always and has rigged a bag full of ice in front of the fan for instant airconditioning, just so I can have as comfortable sleep as possible.  I think I will keep him...  :)

I have been feeling surprisingly calm all day.  I think I've accepted that I've done all I can to prepare myself for the race tomorrow.  I can't control the weather (cloudy, big chance of rain, probably will be choppy waves), but I can control how I react to it and I can control my fear. 

Had a wonderful swim at Chowder Bay with the doggies this morning and did a few laps with a bit of practice turning as if around buoys.  I was weighing up going out deeper, but was worried that there would be stingers and that just would not be good pre-race preparation!

I also tried to heed Coach's advice and eat nicely and healthily.  No real need to carb up - it is only 1 km after all! - so decided to keep it light and fresh, with some lovely spiced flathead with wasabi mayonnaise, soba noodle salad, snow peas and seriously yummy grilled eggplant with miso. 

No wine though, which was fine except what I would do with a Corona with a lime slice right now!

Enough procrastinating - off for a cold shower and a sleep downstairs with a fan and an icebag.  Bring it on, tomorrow!!!



Two Sleeps to Go...

Here we are - two more sleeps to go and it's the big day.  Doggie walkers, friends and work mates have been coming up to me asking me how I'm feeling.  Scared shitless, excited, nervous...and yes, I feel as ready as I'll ever be. 

It's funny how feelings can be such a roller coaster.  Since the panic attack last Saturday, I have alternated between feeling I really and truly can do this, and feeling I wouldn't have a chance in hell.  I was feeling reasonably confident and calm, until yesterday when the Cole Classic organisers sent out the official info email about the race. 

In a heading under "Conditions", the email said:

"Current forecasts show that conditions may be challenging. Water safety is managed by Manly LSC and any decisions on potential course changes or cancellation will be made on the day. Please arrive early to assess conditions and do not swim if unsure of your ability. Swimmers enter at their own risk, are responsible for their own physical condition and are urged to have properly trained and have had a recent medical check-up."

Ohhhh, yes, gotta love it.  Challenging indeed!  I felt my whole belly go down somewhere near my ankles.  I've been torn trying to keep an eye on the weather forecast so I can be prepared, to wanting to not know anything at all so I don't have a chance to chicken out and talk myself out of it! 

Again, I need to remind myself this is not for me, this is for Can Too and getting those precious dollars to fund these fabulous young researchers who are all searching for the cure for cancer. And thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who has sponsored me so far - I have now officially raised $2,039!!!  That's almost 2.3% of a researcher - it takes $90,000 a year to fund a single researcher. Not really that much, considering the life saving work they do.

And we have the dinner bid (currently at $850) and the proceeds from our film premiere of Black Swan (10 Feb) to go.  Keep those dollars coming, and here's to finishing this darned race - I CAN DO IT!!!

One week out and not a good day today...

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. 

OMG It's Here!!!

Yep folks, it's official - my Cole Classic race pack arrived today. Contains:

* one blue swimming cap to signify that I am in the 1 km "back of the pack" blue wave. That is, I'm with the slowies, but not the super slowest (it's the third of the five back of the pack waves)

* one timing chip and one ankle strap so they can tell when I've actually finished

* one brochure to show the course and other useful info for the day

Pity they didn't include a sick bag with the pack, considering I started feeling a bit squeamish again, similar to when I actually registered for the event and I lost my lunch. But having said that, and I never thought I would say this EVER, I'm also feeling a little bit excited about race day in spite of the mind-numbing OMG fear. I'm slowly, slowly getting to the stage where I think I can do this - I won't be fast, it won't be smooth, I'll probably still cry (that's more like definitely cry), I'll still be scared, BUT I know I can get to the finish.

I just hope I'm not so slow that the 2 km swimmers catch up to me!

The Beautiful Women of Lane 6

Here's my posse from Lane 6, taken on the second last pool session we will have. 

Gorgeous...

Even more gorgeous!

And with the MOST gorgeous Coach Dee!!

I so enjoyed swimming and training with you all, and here's to the big race in a little under 3 weeks time - eeeeeeppp!!!

My Motto for Today and Every Time I Swim is...

I have been officially served.  I have been ceremoniously given - by Simon ocean swimmer champion extraordinaire nonetheless - the coveted wrist band that all whingeing and whining athletes in training get...

That reads: "Harden the f*** up!"

Laughs aside, I do have to harden up a bit, if I have any hope of getting through race day which is now a mere four weeks away (eeeep!!!).  I couldn't believe that despite my breakthroughs and the days I spent in the pool and in the ocean, I feel I still have a long way to go to being ready.

Manly Beach was not pleasant, despite the sunny weather.  Bluebottles were rife in the water, both in Shelley and Manly beach, and there was the ugly big stain of red algae that apparently is not very pleasant to swim through (Coach Jon initially told me it could kill a person with one swallow - and of course gullible me believed him for a moment).  The surf was also pretty big, and I was seriously seriously relieved when it was announced that we were swimming in the harbour instead.  Despite the millpond conditions in the harbour side of the beach, I couldn't help but still feel a bit of trepidation.  The last time in the harbour, I had a pretty bad meltdown so I wanted to have better memories leaving the place this time around.

The first challenge was to warm up by swimming a course in and around a few boats moored in the harbour.  It helped a lot to have Wendy there, who like me isn't particularly fond of swimming in the ocean, but unlike me has managed to overcome her fears to complete two ocean races to date. She kept close to me throughout the course, offering encouragement and support whenever I faltered, and I couldn't believe how much I still stopped and started.  It's amazingly tiring the first 50 metres or so when I swim - both in the pool and in the ocean.  Once I get warmed up and get going, it's generally pretty fine, so I really need to ensure I get the chance to warm up before I launch into the race or else I fear I wouldn't even make it halfway.  

I managed to finish the first warm up and felt a bit better.  It was terribly short-lived though. Coach Jon asked me to not do the second warm up swim, but instead take on a challenge - to swim just by myself, from the shore to the nearest yellow buoy.  It was a mere 25 metres, if that, but I was scared.  As Coach Jon put it, it's not that I can't swim - I just don't have the confidence to do it in the ocean.  This was a good opportunity to really push myelf to swim out - the water was still and I was surrounded by people who would look out for me.  So why was I still so damned scared?  I was getting a bit weary of feeling this way.  So I had to go and do it - and I did it, despite my leaky goggles (only from the left lens - still figuring out how best to keep it stuck to my face) and despite a few stops and starts again.  I finally got to shore, to the applause of the 2 k'ers who were waiting for their next drill.  I was so surprised by the spontaneous show of support that I burst into tears.  Oh dear, and here I was hoping to have better memories today, which to me meant no more crying!

The next bit of training was tougher in a different way - we needed to train ourselves to swim in a pack and have legs kicking in front of our faces, which is a simulation of what we will experience on race day.  I managed fairly well, until I had a repeat of what happened when I had my very first panic attack in the sea - when all of a sudden from being in the back of the pack, I was in the front, and I had a whole heap of swimmers faster than me who had to swim around me.  I managed to last at least 30 strokes of being in this maelstrom when I simply couldn't take it and had to stop swimming to have my freak out.  Thankfully it was a lot more shortlived this time around - Jenny and Wendy were there to help me through it, and I managed to get back to swimming within a minute or so, despite having my left lens half full - this time not with sea water but with my tears.  Sounds like a familiar refrain, doesn't it?

The rest of the drills went better, with Wendy and me pairing up to chase each other's legs and get used to the flurry.  I was pretty exhausted after all that, but despite the hiccups and yet more freak outs, I achieved my goal to leave with a slightly better memory of the harbour than last time. 

Now here's hoping for better conditions next Saturday, and if not, I'll just have to "harden the f*** up!"

So I've finally sent out my fundraising email!!

If you're here reading my blog because you've received my fundraising email, then thank you so much for joining me on my Can Too journey.  Blogs are meant to be read from the most recent post, but if you'd like to have a sense of just how far I've come from my very first training session, I suggest you start with the November posts - you can see these by scrolling down the sidebar to view all my archived posts. 

You can also look at some of the highlight posts in my swimming journey (in chronological order):

My very first ocean swim - jetlagged!!
Tears and fears
The Invisible Wall or "Yes, ego is a dirty word!"
Breakthrough...
Arrrrggghhh! Am I really doing this?
Another breakthrough: swimming the course
Me and Bondi Beach: 15 years on!

There are of course heaps of other posts, so pour yourself a glass of wine or a cup of tea and happy reading!

Oh, and I would of course love for you to sponsor me (search under Tulloch) - thank you so much in advance!

This Damned Disease...

People have asked me why I'm doing this ocean swim, when it's obvious I struggle with it and find it so hard.  I've given many answers to this question, but at the work end-of-year drinks which I catered for in exchange for sponsorship, I told one of my colleagues that in some weird way, I was doing the ocean swim through Can Too because I felt that going through this hardship would somehow protect the people I loved the most from getting cancer.  I know it sounds really silly, crazy really, so I don't tend to give that answer that often. But I know in my heart that I truly believe in some weird way that this would work.

Well, it doesn't work. 

Today I found out that a good friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer and will lose her breast in a couple of weeks.  The prognosis is good, they got it early, but you know what?  It sucks, it's shit, and it's just not fair. 

So yeah, my doing the ocean swim isn't going to magically protect the people I love from this damned disease, but doing the swim and raising funds for cancer research will.  And it will help protect the people you love, so please help me support Can Too and Cure Cancer Australia. And God damn it, I'm going to do this bloody ocean swim!!!

Swimming with the Doggies at Sandy Bay

Beautiful Sandy Bay - one of the best doggie beaches in Sydney!

Today was seriously, seriously warm.  Summer had well and truly arrived in Sydney.  We decided we needed to cool the dogs down, and it was again a good opportunity for me to get into the water.

It was utterly fabulous.  The water was so refreshing, and it was easy to splash about with our doggies, both in the shallows and in the deep.  I decided to swim without goggles and ear plugs, as I thought I needed to get used to not having them on in case I lose them in some way in race day.  And it was all fine - my eyes didn't hurt from the salt, and water didn't get into my ears and give me a headache.

I couldn't believe I even wanted to attempt to swim out into the seriously deep water and practice going around a buoy.  But I decided against it as our dogs were intent on following me everywhere I swam, and I was worried they would get tired and drown.  Adrian also pointed out that the current going out was pretty strong, so I (and the dogs) would have to work harder coming back to shore. 

I realised just how strong the current was when Baxter followed me into the deep water and refused to turn around and swim back to the shallows without me - I was madly treading water and trying to push him to go back, and I could feel myself being pulled out.  I was starting to get seriously tired and was getting a bit worried when Baxter finally realised I was going back with him and started to swim back.  We were both pretty tired after that little excursion!