First of all the swimming took place in a lake, where you can't touch the bottom after the first three strokes, so that eliminates any chance to stop and catch your breath.  Secondly, and I can't stress this enough, if you have not been in truly cold water it takes some getting used to even if you are in a wet suit.  I had not been in truly frigid water before that day in April and I can honestly say I will never forget that day.  The swim was the first part of the event, so I was nervous, excited, and in a wet suit that was tight and uncomfortable and I couldn't move around very well.  But despite the water being in the 60's my body wasn't actually cold.  Wet suits work.  But the problem was that since my face and head were not covered, so when I tried to put my head in the cold water, my natural reaction was to breathe in.  Since I haven't learned how to breathe water through my lungs, I couldn't keep my head under water long enough to swim a single real stroke.  The combination of my face being cold, and it being my first triathlon, the swim became a religious experience for me.  I say that half-jokingly because I did sincerely have real talk with Jesus in that water that day.  Here is the transcript of the conversation as it played out in my head about 20 meters into the 600 meter swim.

Negative Me:  What the HELL were you thinking? You aren't in good enough shape to do this.  You are already out of breath and your heart rate monitor is at 170.  Even if you manage to get out of this lake, how are you going to ride 10 miles on a bike and run a 5k? Look, there they come.  There is the guy on the jet ski coming to rescue you.  I guess gripping the buoy like a life raft in the ocean after the Titanic gave you away.

Jet Ski Guy:  "You ok?"

Positive Me:  "I think so, I just can't get used to the cold water and I am trying to catch my breath.  Is it ok for me to hold on to the buoy for a second or is that against the rules."

Jet Ski Guy:  "You are fine.  Don't worry about it and I will keep an eye on you so just wave if you need a 'tug' in."

He was sweet and understanding and treated me much like I imagine a paramedic treats an elderly lady at the nursing home who falls in the shower and has to get pulled out while naked with Barry White embarrassingly playing in the background.

A moment to pause here for a visual.  In order to quit a triathlon swim, a guy on a jet ski who is specifically trained to rescue overzealous weekend warriors will strategically throw you a rope and actually drag you through the water to the shore where the crowds await, like whales are beached when they are sick and have swallowed a small boat and need medical help.  The thought of my water logged and defeated self being pulled to the shore by a jet ski to the watching eyes of the woman I love, who just hours before bragged on me on the "Bert Show," was, for lack of a better word, mortifying.  What would she say on air? What would I tell my friends? And then there is my sweet mother who was also waiting on shore.  A woman who has made all kinds of sacrifices and concessions for my happiness and this is how I repay her? By being pulled to shore by a jet ski? Would Mom immediately start crying on the shore over her internal disappointment at having raised a quitter? Or would she hide her shame out of concern for my feelings?

I decided quitting was not an option.  I would rather drown or at least fake a heart attack so it didn't look like a willful act of giving up.  I could even pretend to be in a coma for a few days.

Positive Me:  Cowboy up, you big dork.  Start swimming! Now!! Go one inch at a time if you have to, but get out of this damn lake on your own.  You were raised better than this.  Your ancestors have fought in wars, struggled through poverty and diseases, and the same human will that allowed your ancestors to survive long enough for you to be born is inside you.  For once in your life, do something that you don't think you can do.  Find a way.

Then, a quick talk with God:

These conversations lasted maybe 30 seconds before I unwrapped my arms from around the buoy.  And I started swimming.  Slowly.  On my side.  Then on my back.  I forced myself to look up at the sky and I started quietly humming just to try to regulate my breath and my heart rate.

After a few minutes, I actually started to believe that maybe I could do this.  The rational part of me knows that my body had gotten more used to the water and I had calmed down.  But in my heart, I know that the fight I had in that lake between my best and worst self was actually the kind of fight we all have every day about something.  The prayer was a weapon and my resource to give that positive side of me help when I needed it.  The positive side doesn't always win.  No one does.  But in the lake that day I somehow found a little extra strength that I didn't know I had.

After the swim the rest was still tough, but by that point I had committed and convinced myself that I could finish.  And I did.  I was sore.  I was tired.  But as those last 300-400 yards approached and the strangers along the route politely clapped, I found myself fighting back tears.  I didn't know where they were coming from and I still don't exactly know why the event caused such an emotional reaction in me.  I pulled myself together and laughed out loud at myself for being such an emotional noodle.

I can't thank Coach Anne and Endurance Concepts enough for all their help.  I know that I couldn't have done it without them and I also know that if I had followed her instructions to a tee, then I would have had a much easier time.

If anyone has ever had an interest in pushing themselves to try something that forces you to be a little more disciplined and consistent, I highly recommend a sprint triathlon - but during the SUMMER when the water is a little warmer.

To check out Endurance Concepts and the services they offer, go HERE.