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!