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.
No comments:
Post a Comment