Unexpected Adventure- Tampa Bay Frogman

I have raced many races which were emotionally and physically taxing, but I can honestly say this event was an amazingly different type of emotional and physical challenge.  
As the race neared the weather was already showing signs that it was not cooperate on race day- predictions for high winds was going to make the race call a "day of" type call.  The Saturday before the race was beautiful, however.  Patrick and I along with about 20 other swimmers took to the water for practice swims.  Many of the swimmers had stood on this shore in previous years, always working to return here for this cause and adventure.  The water was warm, too warm for the long sleeve wetsuit I was wearing.  Patrick swam with no wetsuit, the only person out there.  What can I say we are North Florida people warm is different for us.  We got a mile in, nice and easy.  the chop was not bad but we did take a few hits from waves after passing he radio towers.  The water was clearish and the skies were bright blue- this weather would not stay.  After the mile swim and a few conversations with other swimmers, we headed out for food and rest.  
Through out the evening I was glued to my weather app, I knew it was only a matter of time before we would get that call.  But in true supportive fashion Patrick and my dad loaded up the kayak.  We all prepared our gear, double checking our lists.  Then the first notice came- the kayak rental called to let us know the kayak support had been canceled, then emails, and Facebook messages popped up.  I felt deflated, but there was nothing I could do, the water was not going to be safe.

Through out the night I awoke to the sounds of the wind and rain, then to the sounds of tornado warnings on my phone (and phones throughout the house).  There were tornadoes hitting ground approximately 20 miles away.  The winds were vicious, even knocking down one of the palm trees out front of the house- just missing the SUV with the kayak on top.  
After cutting up a palm tree it was time to pack up and head out to the party event for the Frogman Swim.  We could not go over the Skyway bridge due to strong winds (over 60 mph), so we took the long way around.  My dad drove us to the race start.  There were I had swam just the day before were four foot swells, white caps, lots of chop, and winds... lots of winds.  My ego wanted to still jump in and fight, but my mind (and the race director) was keeping it in check.  The water wasn't safe for our safety team and personal kayakers, it certainly would have been extremely rough for any swimmer.   

The "party" gathering was an amazing experience.  Not only were all of the people delightful to be around but their stories kept the attention of everyone.  Some people had been doing the swim for years, talking of conditions and method of crossing.  They also talked about the dedication to the cause.  Many of the swimmers had military history via their own service or the service of family members.  As I listened the the event planners talk about this events journey I am moved by those around me.  In and among the many I got to met the mother of Danny Dietz, the solider whose name I, along with two other swimmers, was to honor in my swim.  This woman, mother, was inspirational.  You could tell by the way she looked at the photo of her son that not a single day goes by that she doesn't  miss him and his light.  But it wasn't loss that shined in her eyes, instead it was pride.  She was proud of her son's honor and courage and sacrifice.  I had two different opportunities to speak with her and during those times she handed to me two items- one was a coin representative of the mission her son was killed during, the second was a coin in memory of her son.  As we spoke I told her that I intended on completing the 3 miles upon returning home and that I hoped to return next year to the Frogman event.  She asked me if I would carry her son, her angle, with me, as she handed me the coin in his memory.  I told her that I would be honored.  we hugged and she held my hand one last time. My heart just held on to that moment and this woman's bravery to face a world where her son sacrificed with his life so that we may stand there. 

Upon returning home I made up my mind to swim the following weekend.  The weather turned much colder than I had expected but I had swam in cold waters previously so I figured I would still give it a shot.  The air temperature was 48 and the water temperature was 52.  I had taken Danny's coin with me, taping it above my heart as I suited up.  I headed into the water, thankful to have Patrick by my side.  I had thought of inviting others out for the swim, but this was my challenge to overcome.  The water level was extremely low, but the water was crystal clear, as was the air.  Every detail of the sand and sea grass was clear.  I started out on my normal loop course for Mommy Beach, but quickly had to start heading out further out.  I was cold and shivering slightly, but felt I could press on. When I hit the turn around mark, I let Patrick know that I was feeling colder and I could feel my muscles tighten.  Patrick gave me a sighting point on the far side of the beach.  Upon turning around this took me further out in to deeper water.  The water was still clear- it was just the bottom was much further away.  The sunlight danced below the surface and sparkled in the droplets coming off my raised arms.  I tried to focus on the sunlight, tried to imagine it warming me. 

There was no break from the cold, as my hands left the cold water they were met with the cold air and then the water again, neither was warmer.  I had a good pace going but at about 1.4 miles I stopped in the deep and told Patrick that was it, I could not stand the cold any longer.  As I rested my hand on the kayak to steady myself for a moment I realized I could no longer extend my fingers.  It wasn't my hands hurting though that was making me decide to call the swim, it was that my hips were in pain.  In time I figured this was because I was cold and my muscles were beginning to tense to keep my core warm.  I swam back to shore, making my open water distance 1.7 miles.  I was disappointed, frustrated, saddened, and cold.  My body temp had dropped considerably and I was on the cusp (or slightly over) of hypothermia.  
Patrick wrapped me in towels and blankets to start warming me up.  My task was not done and while it would not be in the open water as I had wanted it would be completed.  We headed to the University pool for me to finis the last 1.5 miles.  I was feeling much warmer after some soup and heat.   
As I dipped my feet in the pool water it felt warm, it was certainly warmer than anything I had been immersed in that day.  However, once my full body was in the water it was as if the cold came flooding back.  This 1.5 miles was a slow go, back and forth, back and forth, with only a black line to stare at. 
Upon finishing the distance I was cold and stiff.  My body felt good for having swam, but it also felt like rebelling from being so cold.  I battled with this being a completion of my Frogman goal- it wasn't all open water, part was completing in the safety of the pool; it wasn't the Tampa bay crossing i had originally hoped for.  Nothing was how I had pictured the event; however, through this journey I carried the memories of those who gave their lives and the pride of the cause I was swimming for.  It was in thinking about this journey that I realized I had completed what I set out to do-- spread a message about the Navy seal Foundation.  
This event may not have started out or ended the way I wanted it to but it did teach me about perseverance, pride, courage, and giving.  Thank you to everyone who supported me through donations, swim company, swim planning, company, laughter, and few drinks!  Thank you for believing in something greater than all of us, for believing in the men and women who sacrifice their lives for us each day.