"If it doesn't challenge you, it doesn't change you."

I couldn’t believe it.

All of a sudden my head began to throb and a wave of nausea engulfed my body. I just couldn’t believe it. I was approaching hour 2 of my 11-12 hour swim and my body was failing me already. Failing! But I knew I couldn’t stop. It simply wasn’t an option.  I continued swimming and I tried my best to just will it away. “Just breathe through it… breathe through it.” I consoled myself. “You can do this.”

As I looked up at the moon and stars above, I did my best to distract myself. Catching a glimpse of a distant flash of lightning in the East I marveled at the beauty around me. But with every stroke I took, my breath shortened and my mouth began to salivate…

It was time for another feeding… my crew called me to the boat and tossed my bottles into the water (English Channel rules prohibit touching the boat or resting on the boat, so drink bottles are thrown to the swimmer on a rope) - one with water and the other containing Perpetuem, my carbohydrate/protein mix. ‘I feel really nauseous!” I complained with desperation - hoping, praying, that amongst all my “bags of tricks” on the boat there was a magical cure.

Reaching for the bottle on a rope in the water I couldn’t even bring myself to sip my Perpetuem drink. I could smell the artificial strawberry mixture and it made my stomach turn. A few sips of water instead, I cursed myself for not being able to consume any calories. Joe offered me a Gu, but I declined. I knew I was in trouble. Estimating my body burns at least 800 calories per hour, I had hoped to consume 500-600 calories per hour. Not this swim. With the past 3 feedings I had barely consumed ¾ of that. Shit.

I put my head in the water and continued on. Although the fresh water lacked the buoyancy of the SF Bay and seemed to have more resistance, my body felt incredibly strong as I moved through the thick dark water. It felt like I was reaching through an enormous tub of molasses. “I can do this” I told myself.

But very soon the nausea overpowered me. Breathing on my left, vomit projected violently from my mouth like a broken fire hydrant, bringing me to an abrupt stop. Treading water, tears welling up in my goggles, my body took on a life of its own and allowed every ounce of my being to discharge out of my mouth. It was awful. Gasping for air, and shocked that my body would betray me, I was randomly reminded of a quote one of my friends shared with me. “If it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you.”

I knew this was a test. A challenge that I just simply had to overcome. A speed bump, if you will, on my journey. Still, I was panicked. I was going to have to rely on my reserves of 3 days carbo-loading and hydrating. But how the hell was I to complete this swim without any nutrition??!!!

Somehow I continued swimming. Miraculously I remained on pace to finish in under 11 hours. The sunrise was a glorious mental boost and my arms and legs just kept moving. 

The next 5-6 hours were, however, a blur, broken only by ad hoc feedings of different flavors of Gu. “Blueberry Pomegranate” and “Chocolate Outrage” are the only flavors I recall. Oddly enough, as Joe offered me a different flavored Gu, he reminded me of clown frantically creating an endless variety of balloon animals trying to please a distraught child. “Try this… ok… it’s ok… its ok… what about this...” We all knew it was a painful show. My body didn’t feel like anything. Operating on approximately 100 calories per hour, I just wasn't sure how on earth I was going to finish...

Expect the unexpected.

The plan was for me to begin my swim at 1am on Sunday 5^th August. Based on my fitness and training, we estimated the 22 mile swim would take me 12 hours. Because there is also a very important mental component to a swim of this magnitude, whatever we could pre-plan to benefit my state of mind was highly preferable.  Knowing that I could swim about 2 miles/per hour speed, the idea was that I would swim the first 5 hours in the dark (which I love), followed by a beautiful sunrise to lift my spirits when my body would likely have some difficulty and then enjoy a morning swim under the warm sun. By lunchtime I should have the shoreline of the finish clearly in view to motivate me and close out the swim. It was a great plan.

The 7 hours prior to my swim disappeared so quickly. I had hoped to nap for a few hours, but the excitement and the anticipation was too much. I was wired. And so, with the weather beginning to turn for the worse, I found myself glued to online weather reports.

Finally it was time to leave. As we began the 45 minute drive along the lake to the starting point near South Lake Tahoe, I couldn’t help but notice the dark and ominous sky through the massive trees. It was so eerie. The moon was barely peeking from behind the storm clouds and as I looked out the window of the car my eyes felt as big as saucers. The adrenalin in my body was beginning to surge. It was thrilling. Every couple of minutes, the pitch-black sky was punctuated by an impressive lightning storm. While most people were curled up on a sofa or in a bed in the safety of their homes, we set out on an adventure. “Who the hell swims during a lightning storm?” Joe laughed. “I do.” I replied with a huge grin. Lightning is actually a serious concern, and we just hoped (and gambled) that it would pass before 1am.

Arriving at the boat marina near South Lake Tahoe, the rain begins to fall and the wind picks up. Melissa, Mike and Joe load the boat. With the lightning becoming less frequent, we decide my swim is a GO. As I sit and try to calm my nerves I can’t help but check and recheck myself: goggles… check… earplugs… check… blinkie light on goggles… check… swimcap… check.

I know that I’m embarking on a tremendous personal journey, and I wonder what I’ll experience both mentally and physically during the next 12 hours. I half joke that Joe, Melissa and Mike are my doulas. I’m entrusting them with my safety and wellbeing and I know I won’t be able to complete this journey without them.

As we motor out of the marina towards Camp Richardson - the starting point of my swim - the rain pelts down but the mood on the boat is jovial. God I love my doulas. Arriving at Camp Richardson we dock the boat. It’s time for me to remove my cozy long swim coat and have Joe apply sunscreen and lanolin to protect my body from sunburn and chafing. I’m so amped up and ready to swim.

Joe walks with me along the dock to the water’s edge. “I’m terrified,” I confess to Joe. “You’re so ready” he replies. One of my biggest concerns going into this swim was the water temperature. Unlike my Cook Strait swim where I had purposely added at least 20 lbs to my frame for insulation, this time I had been unable to add as much additional weight. 10-15 lbs at most. Damn you, fast metabolism. I knew the water in Lake Tahoe was going to be at least 8 degrees warmer, but oddly enough it still worried me.

Standing at the water’s edge, Joe encourages me to dip my toe in. “I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised.” As instructed, I dip my toe. Oh, it feels lovely. Relief sweeps over me. It’s warm. My guess is 63-64 degrees, and I love it. “Just start whenever you want – take your time,” assures Joe. I look around at the darkness before me. I look at the stars with wonder. This is for you, Poppa. “Let’s do this,” I say.

I ease into the shallow water and put my face in the inky black lake. Breathe… just breathe... I try to comfort myself. Careful not to go out too fast I ease into my stroke. The sky is so dark. And I’m wearing tinted goggles. I crack a smile. Well, that wasn’t the smartest decision now was it, I joke with myself.

I spot the boat – lit up like a Christmas tree with colorful light sticks – and move towards it. With each stroke I reach into nothingness… an abyss that is, for all the adrenalin surging through my body, so utterly serene. I love this.  I feel so fit and so strong and feel my body power through the water.

My first two “feedings” at 30 minutes and 6o minutes arrive so quickly. Each time I swim up to the boat and take a sip of my carbohydrate/protein drink, Perpetuem. Strawberry cream flavor. Oh. God. That just doesn’t taste very good tonight. Something doesn’t feel right. As I continue swimming my body rocks side to side by the waves and the motion is beginning to make me feel terribly queasy. Oh. Shit. Here we go…

Butterflies and lightning...

The anticipation of an open-water swim is unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. The nerves, the doubts, the fear, and the excitement are all completely and utterly THRILLING. To my mind there are few opportunities in life where one gets to test their mental and physical limits so wholly, so absolutely, in an arena that is so completely out of one’s control. Unlike a temperature controlled and sterile swimming pool, the open-water is the exact opposite. We are at the mercy of Mother Nature. And I love it.

In the days leading up to my swim my mind was consumed with a myriad of emotions and my stomach was filled with butterflies. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive as during those days. It’s an incredible feeling. For all the seemingly hundreds of negative emotions, there were just as many positive and uplifting emotions. I wanted to savor it. I wanted to savor ALL of it. But the days and hours were accelerating and I had to a swim to prepare for.

We drove up to Lake Tahoe 2 days before my swim. Ask the experts and that’s hardly ideal, given the time it takes for the body to acclimate to the altitude. But that was all we had to work with and we made the best of it. I spent those days hydrating, carbo-loading and “tormenting” Joe with my inner monologue…. “do you think I’m drinking enough water?” “do  you think I should eat more potatoes?” “I’m worried about the water temperature – what do you think?” This final prep was all too familiar and frankly quite comical.

Because despite my nagging fears and doubts, I knew, overall I was very well prepared. I had trained and tapered meticulously to the point of being religious. And a part of me simply couldn’t wait to swim.

With so many butterflies in my stomach I felt like I was going to burst and I knew that the only relief from this culmination of months of controlled, regimented training would come with me standing at the water’s edge poised to dive into the lake, into the unknown.

Joe made last minute shopping trips and we organized the supplies. I rested, and waited. I almost felt TOO prepared. And because of this I knew deep down that something something was bound to go horribly wrong.

 

The weather was closing in. Thunderstorms, rain and lightning were forecast for my swim. I prayed to Mother Nature for a chance. And, just like my Cook Strait swim, I didn’t ask for it to be easy, I just wanted a chance to swim. 

Intent to Swim Lake Tahoe.

When I originally planned to attempt this swim, I didn’t expect it to be anything more than just “a swim”; a training swim for the upcoming Night Train Swimmers’ 339 mile San Francisco – Santa Barbara relay swim this September. I wanted to challenge my body and prove to myself that I was in the best physical condition possible for this mammoth adventure down the coast of California.

Lake Tahoe seemed like the obvious choice for my training swim. A mere four hour drive from San Francisco, an enclosed body of water with no concerns for selecting the right tide, this swim could be conveniently completed on a weekend of my choosing.

Lake Tahoe is the largest alpine lake in the US; stretching 22 miles lengthwise and 11 miles across the width, this beautiful pristine lake borders the California-Nevada state line and is at an altitude of 6225 feet (1897 m).  I planned to swim the 22 mile length.

Nothing like training for an ALTITUDE and fresh water swim at sea level!! The only time I'm ever at altitude is when I'm flying home to New Zealand, in a pressurized aircraft cabin. And I never swim in fresh water. So... combining the altitude and lack of bouyancy from the saltwater of the ocean, I knew this swim would be a challenge. And that’s exactly why I wanted to swim it. I wanted to push myself beyond my imaginable boundary and point to that big blue spot on the map of California, and say, “I swam that.”

5 days after completing my Cook Strait swim, I filed my “Intent to Swim Lake Tahoe.”

While I followed my training plan religiously, I discovered that the first couple of months just didn’t seem to click. With no real connection to Lake Tahoe (I didn’t spend my childhood summers/winters at the lake and it's not home) I found it difficult mentally to muster the same focus and determination that drove my training and preparation for the Cook Strait. And, to be perfectly honest, it seemed a little boring. To me it was just a lake - a body of water without scary wildlife to contend with and crazy tides to battle. Nope, no adrenalin in this swim I thought... 

"SWIM ME"

I feel a little bit like Alice in Wonderland. 

For the last 9 days I've been waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Tapering my swim workouts, resting and eating in anticipation of that "thing" to happen. 

Today that "thing" has begun. The White Rabbit just ran past me, oblivious to my presence, checking his watch as he continued through the forest. 

As I run behind him I know I'm on the verge of an unknown adventure. It's daunting. It's scary. But it's also very very exciting. Down the rabbit hole we go… 

I'm now standing in the hallway outside a locked door. I peer through the window of the door and see an enormous, beautiful lake. A 22 mile long lake. 

A little sign hangs from the door. 

"SWIM ME" it says…