“The Walking Disaster”
Seriously, I have to be one of the most accident-prone individuals ever.
From split-open knees, raising my mother’s concern of aquatic ameboid infections, to asthma attacks, induced by over-inhalation of bleach and peroxide fumes when I refused to take breaks during team lab cleaning, I somehow manage to find creative ways to make training more difficult than necessary.
Today was no different. It was a stunningly gorgeous day in San Francisco, the sort of sun-bathed, color-rich, warm breeze day you’d expect in May, not mid-November. Wanting to take full advantage, I decided to go on a running tour of the SF bay prior to my swim in Aquatic Park. iPod blasting, I set off along the water with Dave, reveling in the view as I opened my stride.
15 minutes later found me on the ground, gasping in pain. I had managed to re-sprain, for the 3rd time no less, the ankle I injured via three ligament tears my senior year in college.
- Side note: people in SF are so awesome! Within seconds of going down, I had 5 different individuals stop to ask whether I was okay, did I have a cell phone, did I need help, would I like a ride? Wow, my faith in humanity has officially been confirmed.
With Dave’s help (poor guy, I totally ruined his training run), I managed to hobble back to the Dolphin Club. Well, running was out, but there was no way I was going to miss a cold water training opportunity! Gingerly, I taped the ankle so tightly that upon removing the tape an hour later, my skin was white and purple (Ha! That joint ain’t goin’ nowhere!), and limped my way down to the beach.
3 coves. 1 hour. Okay. Let’s do this.
The water was down below 57 today, hovering around 56.8 degrees. Two coves in, the swim became a major struggle. I’d lost feeling in my hands and toes during cove 2, which is pretty typical for me; now, however, my arms and legs went numb as well, and I felt stiff and choppy. I wanted to get out, but I’d said 3 coves, not 2. I needed to be tough.
For all of cove 3, I chanted cues to myself to maintain good technique because I couldn’t feel my stroke at all – head down, catch long, elbow up, bend, pull past leg, rotate hips, keep kicking! With a little over half a mile left in the swim, I started to get worried. The pins-and-needles sensation I’d been feeling for 10 minutes was gone, replaced by a general chill leeching down toward my core. My body felt even stiffer.
Following what I’ve read in Lynne Cox’s book, I took stock of myself: shoulders still reddish-tan, not blue or purple. Good. Am I shivering? No, okay, good. And breathing is normal, stroke rate is still up. I’m okay. But I knew I needed to get back – I’d never felt this cold in the water, and I was on the far side of the cove, where no one could see me, lost in the sunset’s shadow.
Pain pulsed through my hurt ankle, but I hardly cared – I started sprinting. I had to get back and warm up. I kicked hard, pulling as fast as I could. I’d never been so happy to see that buoy line – 400 meters to go! When I gratefully swam up to the beach, the combination of my chilled state, numbed legs, and obliterated ankle made standing problematic, and walking even more so. But I’d done it – I stayed in water below 57 
degrees for an hour.
Excellent! We are making progress.
Now, what to do about this ankle…
