100 Days, 100 Miles

When you think about it 100 miles over the course of 100 days it really might not seem significant, after all during this journey we ran a few 5Ks, a 15K, and took on a challenge of running 48 miles over 48 hours.  These 100 miles are different, though they were at times blended in with the many other miles of our lives. These were different miles because they were grounded in intention and with purpose.

In my home as the days become shorter and the weather cooler a sinking feeling starts to bring its battle to our front door, one of us battles with seasonal depression and the other one battles with trying not to react to the symptoms of their partner’s condition; leading us both to a front row seat on an emotional rollercoaster. This has been an ongoing “ride” in our lives for many years. Some years are better than others. I think this is mostly dependent on the number of sunny and warmer days in the season that year and on calling it what it is when it happens. It seems to help with us to just yell, “F You Depression” and recognize that the sun not being awake at 6am is enough to topple the day in to a tailspin but tomorrow might be better. This doesn’t mean we always win the battle just because we acknowledge it or because we talk about it with each other. Sometimes at the end of the day the effects of this depression leaves us both beaten and battered and sleeping with our backs to each other, saying “good night” only out of ritual habit not in a form of best wishes for slumber.

I fear the cold dark days leading up to 21 December, the shortest daylight day of the year. I worry if there will be cold snaps or rain. I watch the weather and try to predict our moods. I sit and hope and wait for the daylight. This year I decided to handle it differently. I would not sit idle. I decided to make a challenge to intentionally move. Now this may seem strange if you read our other blogs about swimming and running and biking and movement, but this was different. There would be no off days, no excuses to not get it done, no hiding under the blankets. I decided it needed to be a challenge that was minimal and guaranteed success. No matter what happened in our day this one thing would be a checkbox for completion. Easy Peasy!!!

On 23 September 2017, we started our 100 miles 100 days challenge; this would put us finishing the challenge on New Year’s Eve (past the days of shortening daylight). It seemed silly at first since the week before we ran 8.5 miles and two days before we ran 4 miles. But this was not about “those” miles. This was about this mile, just this one. Well it ended up being 4 miles that September day, but the box for one mile completed was checked. Now there is something you have to understand about this challenge, we had talked about it a week or so earlier and agreed “sure we will do it”. But when the first day came to do the mile we were actually already not in great moods. I remember bits and pieces as to why our moods were foul (it really isn’t important) but I mostly remember thinking, “Good grief, maybe this is just stupid and I should call it off now.” But like many arguments amongst couples this one passed leading to “normal” moods.

Unexpectedly these 100 miles would turn into a weird learning journey for me (I guess a lot of things end up this way for me), about us (even after 14 years of marriage and a lifetime of knowing each other), and about a place in this world. Yep, I was not expecting this to be the case on day 1 and maybe not even on day 100. It might just be now in thinking about all the parts and pieces and moments that I found this knowledge, who knows. Simple things happened in those miles.

In the beginning Patrick hated my counting system. I would proclaim “only 87 more days to go!!!” He in turn would look at me like I was telling him how much further till we reach Jupiter, some irrelevant number in the universe. This was the first thing, not usual daily stuff, I remember talking about on one of our 1 miles. I asked him why it bothered him. He told me it seemed too far away and like we had been doing this for months already with nothing gained. Makes sense. So the next day as we finished our 1 mile I proclaimed, “14 days completed!!” To which he laughed, we laughed. Two weeks in and we had gone from disgruntle, to normal, to laughing, and I am sure 1 million emotions in between, not all “at” each other but just the rollercoaster of life with a quickly setting sun announcing its departure as just another challenge.

During this challenge I struggled at times, the couch seemed more comforting than the road after a long day at work. I struggled with why I wanted to do this challenge. I struggled with other things I needed to be so devoted to in my life. I struggled with not over thinking it (a constant struggle for me). It was only a mile, never meant to change me or the world or me in the world. It was only a mile, just meant to be something to give me a checkbox, guaranteed. Simple. These struggles though came into my mind during these miles, more often than they ever did in other unintentional miles. Maybe it was because many of these miles were spent just being in the moment with my husband. Not in the out of breath, chasing way we spend other miles together. These miles were often about us pulling each other out the door, pulling each other away from that stale darkness that seemed there and gone at the same time this year.

We traveled during this challenge time (in fact we were away from home the day we started) which as I look back those times make me laugh a little. Asking a friend if we could walk past the restaurant we were planning to have breakfast at and then loop around the park because we needed 1 consecutive mile. Oh yeah this is after she had just told us she was pregnant and sometimes tired. Then there was planning miles in Ohio, in changing conditions that Florida people are not prepared for this early in the season. This too made me laugh as we ran the river in shorts and perhaps a long sleeve shirt but the locals wore base layers and gloves and hats and covered their faces. We may not have been expecting the cold but that didn’t mean we could not be tough and handle the cold. We even had a mile at my alma mater in Charlotte, walking through memories we had there while seeing that the world is ever changing.

We raced our normal and not-so-normal weekend races during this challenge time, counting one of these miles as the 1 mile for the day. During this time we raced our first SwimRun event in North Carolina. Tethered together up and down a mountain, we were surprisingly laughing and joking though we could not feel our feet or hands after the icy water. We raced a Hot Chocolate 15K on the streets of Columbus, Ohio (Go Buckeyes!). We raced a two day, three race event, containing a 10K, 5K, and half marathon. We completed a self-supported triathlon since a hurricane canceled the actual event day. Then we decided at nearly the end of the year to complete a 48 hour challenge totaling 48 miles and little “recovery” sleep (another blog to come). During these days, Patrick pushed himself to new personal records and pushed me out of my comfort zone pace at times, encouraging me at times, staying beside me at times, and being free to run at times. All these moments adding their 1 mile to the goal.

I don’t remember what day the mile stopped being an inconvenience and just stared “being”.

Maybe this feeling came and went during the challenge. What I do remember is feeling more connected to myself. A grounded feeling, where you aren’t grounded by worldly pressure to one spot but instead you are grounded to where you want to be, feeling the world willingly. During these miles ideas about the next journeys in my life started to have a place to exists, this can’t happen in front of a television or trying to hit a new 100 yard goal in the pool or on a spin bike watching your heart rate rise. It at least wasn’t happen for me during those times. I know the ideas and goals I had in those miles will not all happen, not all of these plans will take shape. But I also know that one small checkbox can help the doubt and uncertainty go away. The sun will still set, I can’t rope it and make it stay longer, but I can move in the darkness.

 

On 31 December, after missing sleep for two days, we, together, took on the final mile for a challenge started 100 days prior (a time that seemed so much closer than it had when we had 199 days to go). It was wet and cold that morning. It was honestly the worse conditions we had in 100 days! But this was it one more intentional checkbox. A mark that for me in that moment symbolized commitment I felt I had lost, dedication I felt I was lacking, and faith in myself that had been a challenge to find recently. As we walked, incidentally four miles (just as we had started this 1 mile challenge), I realized we may have bumps and bruises from this battle with the daylight but we walked out together.

This year I think our house was a little brighter despite the fading sun. The symptoms of frustration, doubt in ability, lack of motivation, irritation, restlessness, were all quieted in those miles. Bad days slipped away with just a check mark in a box. Not because it was the fasted mile or the best form, but because it was a mile intended for no one else and no other purpose than to be a simple mile.   

100 intentional miles on 100 intentional days.

If you can, please help us support the Navy SEAL Foundation.

Teresa's Donation Page for Tampa Bay Frogman Swim 2018

Teresa is actively raising money for the Navy Seal Foundation.  For more information please read this: Supporting the Navy Seal Foundation- Frogman Swim 

We've been blogging for a while now. If you enjoyed this one, you may enjoy others. Look though the Blog Archive on the right, for more of our experiences and random thoughts. 

Thank you for your ongoing support of our adventures.  

Please feel free to share our blog.

Mellow Mushroom Spirit Night for Navy Seal Foundation - Jan. 9!

Tuesday, Jan 9^th  

6:00 PM to 8:00 PM

Mellow Mushroom of Pensacola

5175 Bayou Blvd

Dine-In or Take-Out

 
This is our FINAL fundraiser for Navy SEAL Foundation and Tampa Bay Frogman Swim! Bring in the invitation/flyer and 15% of your Mellow Mushroom bill (excluding tax and tip) goes to Navy Seal Foundation!

Teresa and I will be there all night greeting everyone, answering questions, and providing information. Your support is appreciated! Come by, say hello, and EAT!


If you cannot attend and would like to contribute, please do here: http://www.imathlete.com/donate/TeresaHess11109

Below is the Invitation / Flyer. Print it; Share it; BRING IT!

About the Tampa Bay Frogman Swim: 

Teresa is raising money for the Navy SEAL Foundation via the Tampa Bay Frogman Swim.

On January 21, 2018, a group of swimmers will honor fallen military heroes and those heroes’ families as they brave conditions and swim across Tampa Bay. 

All proceeds from the Tampa Bay Frogman Swim are used to provide injury assistance to Navy Seals and tragedy assistance for families who have lost loved ones in training or combat.

Adventures in SwimRunNC- Race Report (and more)

In April the 140.6 Patrick and I were set to race in October was cancelled. A few things came of this-- disappointment and opportunity. Sure we were no longer going to be racing across Delaware but little did we know what exploits were ahead of us. I went looking for something "fun" and "different". A friend had mentioned SwimRun events to us previously. A quick google search lead me to SwimRun NC. I don't recall which race we were driving home from as I sat in the passenger seat and inputted an application to the race.

We waited, we started to run more trails but not overly focused in this area, as we were not sure if we would be racing fall trails. We waited some more, learning to swim with each other in a line or side by side. We waited a little longer, to the point that I figured there would be no new adventure this fall. Then while I was showering one morning Patrick came in the bathroom asking if I knew. Knew what? That we were in if we wanted the spot. A team had dropped and we had a spot to race SwimRun NC. There are no other words to express my thoughts, while I stood there smiling with excitement all I could express was "Oh SHIT!!!!" With an ecstatic heart and worried mind I paid our entry fee and signed our names to the 2017 roster.  
Since at this point we had weeks to train we increased our trail running but since the 20 mile swim I had been slacking on swimming Plus every time I wanted to swim the wind was whipping up waves or the jellyfish were in attack mode, so bailing on swims became too easy. Race day was quickly approaching- I knew it had to be getting close based on the scrapes and bruises I had from falling during woods training runs.

Starting out

There were a few things we already knew- the terrain would not be Florida sand and hills, we knew we would be in NC foothills, going up a mountain on rocks; we knew the water would not be our warm salt assisted water, we knew it would be cold but fresh; we knew the weather would be a major factor, but this factor was just another day for us Floridians.
We packed up our short cut wetsuits, rope, pressure bandage, shoes, swim paddles and buoy, and courage and headed north to the mountains.
As we drove the leaves began to change and so did the weather report. The rains were setting up for after the race as a front brought colder temperatures. No worries, this was after the race. We made the final drive into the mountains and the day brought another change in weather, the rains would happen the night before and morning of the race and the dropping temperatures would happen as we raced. Well, this was suppose to be an adventure, right?

The prerace meeting was encouraging-- look for the yellow and pokadot ribbons and have fun. I do have to say we were a little worried with the conversations of Ironman achievements going on between most of the athletes that not everyone was there to have fun. But we have never been at a race for the benefit of others or to show off our accomplishment list; we were here for the love of the sport and to try something new. Better than the "let's have fun" message was the other bonus for racing- letters written by elementary school students wishing the athlete luck!! Our author even hoped we would bring home the trophy. Only in our hearts!!

Race morning alarms woke us to find it raining outside. We geared up in swimsuits and sweatpants and loaded the remaining gear. I ate my yogurt as Patrick drove up the winding mountain roads, covered in rain and leaves.  At the start site the air temp was in the mid 50's, not bad. The problem was more so that the winds were picking up and the front was pushing in. We chatted with other athletes as we wiggled into wetsuits and stuffed supplies in sleeves. We readied ourselves at the start line and after a few inaudible words (because we were int eh back of the pack) and a quick kiss, the horn sounded and the pack let loose.

 The first stage was four miles up the mountain (with a few downhills). During this trek we would encounter the waterfalls and some climbing opportunities. The one problem we ran into was with all the groups starting at the same time there was a bit of a logjam as people were single-file up the rocks. This was a beautiful start to the race and our first time getting our feet wet in the cold streams running down the mountainside.

The top found us looking out over the lake. The push up the mountain had turned out wetsuits into personal saunas. One would think, "Oh this water is going to feel great." Well the answer is yes and no, both said immediately and at the same time. The water was in the lower 50's. Our warm bodies were instantly cooled, this quick temperature drop made it a challenge to catch my breath for the first few strokes.
So there are no buoys (except at the out) in SwimRun. We were navigating blind with matters made worse by fogging goggles. As the cold water rushed out suits we fell into a rhythm. Patrick stopped to clear his goggles a few times and then spotted off me as we moved through the lake. About 2/3rd of the way through we started to see trees in the lake. Let me tell you when you are swimming along seeing nothing and all of a sudden there is a freaking tree under you it is a little freaky!!! And for a Gulf swimmer every algae plumb or piece of grass was for sure a jellyfish!!!
We stood up in the muck and made our way to dry land. We ran for a short period and then back in the water for a quick swim. Then we went down the damn and back to the lake entry point, again we went around. This time the cold water was making my hands become pins and needles. There was no warming up between plunges. Patrick again watched me to his right and we fell into sync with each other. The lake trees didn't surprise me this second time around, but their eerie presents gives way to the realization that the cold is real in the lake, freezing items with their summer coverings.
This time down the hillside to the dam there were few around us, we were racing the clock to not get stopped short of the mountain climb. For this reason we zipped past the volunteers offering fluids and food, grabbing only what was right in front of us, and leaped over the race mat to start our climb. The hike up Moore's Wall to Moore's Knob (here after known as "the TOP") is a climb of just less than 2 miles. Seems reasonable, except it is comprised of 642 "trail" stairs. See trail stairs are different than normal stairs. If I tell you there are 642 steps, you think "Oh I love the stair master" or"I walk up the stairs each day to work". But trail steps are a different beast. They are uneven in height and length. They are spread out and then close together. They are covered is a light slime from the rain and slippery with mud and small gravel. They don't give at all when your hamstrings cramp from the cold and you miss a centimeter of height you needed to clear the step. As the trees were beginning to thin we could feel the winds increase, noticing now more than before that the temperature was dropping. Clapping, we started to hear clapping! A volunteer stood there cheering us to the top. He was a beautiful site. A little more of a climb and we were there at the top looking over the edge. Even though we were only halfway this was our trophy moment. We stood and watched the hawks fly below us over the tree tops painted with autumn colors. I pushed to the edge as far as Patrick would let me go, after all I was tied to him and there was no net!! The mist and clouds swirled around us and the wind blow the cold air against our faces. Int hat moment the burn faded and the beauty of all that surrounding us filled us with warmth. The TOP the glorious TOP. But as it has been said what goes up, must go down.

The TOP

It was a fleeting moment of warmth. Now the downhill portion began, knowing that at the bottom of the hill we would be greeted again by the cold waters of the mountain lake. The terrain was rocky giving way to roots. Knowing we were halfway we spent much of the downhill laughing at the "trouble" I managed to get us into and telling stories of other times we went looking for waterfalls or exploring wooded trails.We spent much of our time just the two of us, we would pass a team here and there, offering "hellos" and "we got this" remarks. We were good alone in the woods.
The trees this time parted to a view of the lake. Swim gear on we dove in. The water rushing into our wetsuits, cooling us and then beginning the hypothermia process again. Somehow this time I had gotten onto the wrong side of Patrick. It was awkward on his left, but my brain could not figure out how to stop an get to the other side of him. Finally he popped up and told me to get over. FIXED!!! We quickly fell into our rhythm. Patrick began to push hard and was pulling away a little; I knew he was in the zone, trying to forget about the cold and push his body to not shiver in the water. My body cooled faster this time and I could feel my hypothermia symptoms of hip pain and my hands pushing against the swim paddles in an attempt to become claws. We popped up at the out again, gathering ourselves. We ran on feet so cold they felt as if we were walking on pebbles in our shoes. Again across the smaller swim and down the damn. This time Patrick informed me that the hypothermia was making him able to see better!!! Yep in that moment I realized between the swims he was not putting back on his glasses. Hew as going down the muddiest, slipperiest, most unsafe section of the course blind, and in front of me!!! I assured him that clarity was not a normal symptom of hypothermia; it was more so his brain shutting down and not caring about clarity! What could we do but laugh!!
We made it back for the last lake loop. Paddles on and buoys set between our legs we dove back in. By now the air temperature was starting to drop to where our cold arms could feel the cool or the air against the "warmth" of the water. This time Patrick was a little slower out of the water, trying to step carefully onto land. He wasn't use to being so skinny and cold (lol)!!! The little crossing was fast and soon we found ourselves back down the damn. We stopped at the clocking check point to be sure to be marked.
Here one of the race directors, Jan, asked us how we were feeling and rubbed Patrick's arms to help get blood flowing. All the while telling us to untether. Wait, untether? No our team made the choice to be sure we were close enough and to stay tethered through the event. Jan looked at us in a way that I am not sure if it was disbelief in us having survived making it down the mountain or in questioning again this "sacrificial lamb" race team even being on the race course! Jan helped us untether, because regardless of the looks intent it was clear he was going to "help us out". Now to be honest we came close to reconnecting on the other side of the road, since hell we made it this far!! Again we laughed down the mountain.

I say we laughed but the cold was taking a toll on me and the
downhill was not helping. My hip was tight and painful, making each step feel like a needle going into my bone. To add to the problem my diaphragm was cramped limiting my ability to stand up right or breathe. So there are two things you want to be able to do while racing- make forward motion and breathe! I was failing at both. I had thought a few times during this event that pulling off the course and calling it a day would be an option. This is not normally my mind set in a race but I was hurting, more than in most race. I was slowing our team from forward motion having to slow from the pain then try again and again. I knew I wasn't an easy teammate to be "tied" to in that moment but in the moment I was ready to cry, Patrick turned to me, "We got this" and smiled. I laughed. I was so far from "getting this"in that moment. My body felt like it was failing me; I was angry at myself for not being able to push harder; I was frustrated that I had the thought of giving up; I was scared of disappointing Patrick. I looked around and in the woods, as the leaves danced in the wind above us, I could not have felt more loved.
We found a few more volunteers and then saw what we had been waiting for, the entrance into the river. Yes, we had been begging to freeze again because it would be the last time. For me this meant little pressure on my hip and chest. It meant being in my element where I felt comfortable even in the cold. I was in a place I knew I could control.

We entered the river with smiles and foggy goggles (again). As we moved down the river we hit a deep spot where the current was flowing fast, we were on our way. Well, we were until I saw a ripple, hit a rock on the edge and then turned to yell "ROCK" at Patrick just as he pulled a Little Mermaid move, ramping up on the rock with a few choice words! He unbeached (unrocked?) himself and we headed down the shallow river again. Given that Patrick could not see the ripples indicating rocks, I kept yelling, "10 yards, 5 yards, ROCKS!" Oh the fun. We made the turn and saw the exit, moving towards the side and stepping over the last few large rocks, we made it back to land. Up about 20 steps and a 50 yards run to the finish line. Hand in hand we crossed. Patrick bent over after the finish, laughing with his hand on his knees. All I could do was to hug him, smiling, knowing what he just overcame because I had this idea one day. We were soon joined by Herbert with a smile asking, "Was it great?" Yes. Yes, it was great.

All smiles and love

Unpacking at Home :)

Once we had gathered ourselves (very quickly) we made our way to the Jeep to get out of the cold wet clothes. Frozen hands do not make it easy to get a wetsuit off. We heated up the Jeep just to blow warm air out on us. Yep that's right here is the visual- Two people, cold, shivering, laughing, trying to not get stickers in their feet, changing clothes at the back of a Jeep, at some point half stuck in a wetsuit, with the doors open to warm the outside air!!!
The air temperature dropped from mid 50's to mid 40's, the winds picked up, the water temperature around 54 degrees; there were 90 teams on the mountain that morning, 83 teams finishing; over 14 miles of running, almost 2 miles of swimming, and over 2000 feet of climb; but all I remember are the laughs.
Next year....

Bonus awesomeness with entry fees the group purchased a fire suppression vehicle to help control forest fires.  


Photos (the clearly professional and amamzing ones) thanks to Brian Fancher, Richard Hill, and Brian Lefevre. Thank you gentlemen for the beautiful representation of the day.

If you can, please help us support the Navy SEAL Foundation.
Teresa's Donation Page for Tampa Bay Frogman Swim 2018

Teresa is actively raising money for the Navy Seal Foundation.  For more information please read this: Supporting the Navy Seal Foundation- Frogman Swim 

 
We've been blogging for a while now. If you enjoyed this one, you may enjoy others. Look though the Blog Archive on the right, for more of our experiences and random thoughts. 
Thank you for your ongoing support of our adventures.  

Please feel free to share our blog.

There Will Be Sadness

A few weeks ago I had an emotional breakdown. Yep, full on loneliness and despair type breakdown. It was the first time I can remember feeling nothing but pain course through every inch of my body. I have been sad before; I have been angry before; but never have I felt like this. I couldn't stop the world from spinning. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't make my mind make sense. I couldn't will myself to feel better. I couldn't, I just couldn't.  

I was mad at the world and mad at myself for feeling this way. I am suppose to be strong. I am suppose to know how to prevent these feelings from overpowering me. I am suppose to utilize my supports. I am suppose to be okay. I am not suppose to be curled up in a ball in a parking lot, crying. I am not suppose to be begging for understanding. I am not suppose to be hopeless. But that's where I was, in a parking lot, crying, begging, and hopeless. 

The things that lead me to this place are of little significance but what is very significant it what lead me out of this place. 

I believe when we fall down an emotional staircase we have to walk back up one step at a time. This was the first time I didn't even know where the staircase was or if there was one. That's where I was, in a dark room I had never been in before. I didn't know where I was, I didn't know if there was going to be a staircase here, and I didn't know how to find it. Needless to say I was a unprepared for this stumble in life. But I was one thing- aware of the darkness. 

When I realized how far I had fallen I tried to focus on one thing, something outside of me in the moment. It was then in this darkness I saw a dim glow. It was coming from where I had fallen from. I knew I wanted to be back there to the light. I knew I could not stay here. I knew I had to try, even though my body felt pain, my mind felt dizzy, and my soul felt crushed. I knew there was no easy way back to the light. I couldn't just push this all away and pretend nothing happened. I had to face those stairs and that journey. I also knew I could not do it alone. 

I was standing in the middle of a store walking the buggy back and forth when I decided I needed a brighter light to shine. I made a difficult decision for me, I decided to reach out for help. I sent a text to a friend asking for her to confirm there were positive people in the world. I told her I was having a hard time and just needed to know this was still true. I didn't want to tell anyone I was in this dark room. I didn't want to talk about "it". I didn't want to have to explain that I didn't know where the staircase was. 

I figured she would text back asking questions or telling me to buck up. But instead when that little light blinked the message was different. She text back, "I love you. Today is one day in our world. Each day brings us challenges and hurdles. All which make us stronger." She told me to "use this day as a lesson." 

She didn't tell me to suck it up or to push it all away. She told me to embrace it. I had to own my feelings and my actions. This day was only one day in this world and it did not have to define me. With just a few words (and checking in on me for a few days), my friend lead me to a staircase that was right before my eyes but hidden from me. She helped me to take that first deep breath and to feel hope were despair had filled my heart.

It seems so simple but when you feel the weight of life crushing you, simple no longer exist.  
The world isn't easy. You can have all the flashlights in the world and still be unprepared for falling down into the darkness. I still think about the events that lead me to that dark place. I still replay my emotional reactions. I still wonder how I fell. But I look back to process those moments while holding on to the hand of a friend.  A friend who I know will shed a little light.
I tell you this to say, it happens, we all end up in our own darkness at some point. Life isn't about standing close to the edge. It is about leaping and falling and crashing and finding the first step again. Life is an emotional roller coaster leading us to highs so wonderful the stars are within reach and lows so deep our feet settle in the sand at the ocean floor.    



To all who read this, know you have a friend. Have trust in a helping hand, even when the world seems to deceive you. Have faith in the greater good, even when your actions might not be a part of that good. Have hope in the knowledge that the world will slow down just long enough you can catch your breath and in that moment step out onto that first step up.

**Yes, I am good now. I am sure.**

If you can, please help us support the Navy SEAL Foundation.
Teresa's Donation Page for Tampa Bay Frogman Swim 2018

Teresa is actively raising money for the Navy Seal Foundation.  For more information please read this: Supporting the Navy Seal Foundation- Frogman Swim 

We've been blogging for a while now. If you enjoyed this one, you may enjoy others. Look though the Blog Archive on the right, for more of our experiences and random thoughts. 
Thank you for your ongoing support of our adventures.  
Please feel free to share our blog.



 

Loggerhead- 20 Mile Swim

Every adventure has a starting point. This adventure starts with more of the absence of a starting point. In our local area we had the Pensacola 3 Mile Bridge Swim for a number of years. I miss this event and hope to see it again in the future. I participated in the Aquathlon, 5K swim, 10K swim, and 25K swim distances. The event has been on-hold for the past few years due to plans for and now actual construction of a new Pensacola Bay Bridge. In the time the swim has been on hold there have been a number of “fun” swims with a few friends gathering together to swim around points or across boat channels. Then there was talk of an EPIC swim. This talk was quickly here and then gone but it stuck in my mind. The plan was to swim from Navarre Beach to Pensacola Beach. The seed was

The actual route taken.

planted for me. I waited to see if it was going to happen but the chatter went silent. Then in May of this year the “big” race Patrick and I were signed up for got canceled and options for other events we wanted to do were limited. The wheels started turning in my head and one day I just told Patrick, "I would like to try to swim from Navarre to Pensacola this summer." I should not be amazed anymore when he agrees, but I am amazed every time he simply says, "OK."

We set the first attempt date in July. Yes it was a quick turnaround, mostly so I could not chicken out, but is was also the best day for tides and amount of daylight. On that day the weather was such that the swim was not going to happen. We faced winds that were causing white caps on the sound. Kayaks were sinking and swimmers, including myself, were making only slow forward progress. To slow to make the distance before dark. With these rough conditions we called the event. You can read more about this attempt on the prior blog entry, Adventures in Failure.

After the first attempt failed, I rethought the possibility of me doing this swim. Patrick asked me when I was going to try again only minutes after leaving the water defeated. I am pretty sure I rolled my eyes and looked at him with a look of, “did you not just see me almost drown out there, bugger off.” But my reply was, “Soon. We will try again soon.” I set two future dates, in case of weather again or other issues. I knew given the daylight limitations that I could only try two more times before waiting until longer days in the spring.

The 19^th of August seem to come sooner than naturally possible. Again we packed up fluids, food, and safety supplies. That morning the number of swimmers were far less than the prior attempt.I don’t blame them! Patrick was the only kayaker, Jim would enter the water to swim with me, and Danika would give us hugs, cheer, and push us off with much needed emotional support, encouragement, and confidence in our ability. I was honestly glad for the small numbers (just in case I failed again). It seemed to make it easier to manage in my mind. Patrick pushed out towards the first set of docks. I stood there in thigh deep water, took a glance at the rising sun behind me, waved to our friend (who was all smiles), and took a deep breath before diving into the water.

The water was already warm and it was 0630 in the morning. As we swam out past the first dock, seagrass and squishy jelly fish began to be a part of every stroke forward. The good thing about squishy jellies is that they don’t sting. The bad thing about squishy jellies is that I have trust issues with any jellies, causing me to jump each time my hand brushed one. The seagrass was more of a five mile nuisance, at times being so thick I could have given Patrick a bouquet of grass in one stroke. I wasn't sure this would have been a good way to show my love or appreciation so I kept the seagrass to myself.

I wanted to start at a nice, smooth pace, sort of a start slow and ease off mentality. The water, while warm, was smooth. We hit moments where I just watched the water droplets from my arms break the surface of the settled waters. It was beautiful and peaceful. The water danced as I moved through it, breaking and bending with me this time, not against me like the previous attempt.  I watched ahead eyeing a familiar boathouse that I knew would be close to the moment of defeat a month ago. I watched as it got closer, as houses and condos slowly faded from view. Then the boathouse was next to me and I could see the first outcropping in the distance. This was where I was last time when tough decisions had to be made. The other side of this cove would be the start to the furthest I had traveled on this path. While this point was within only mile three, it was a mental blocking point and I had to remind myself to “be the storm” even against my own mind which was yammering on about failure and defeat. The outcropping seemed to come up faster then expected and with it shallow waters. The shallows now meant that seagrass brushed my stomach at the same time as brushing over my arms and back.

Finally after four miles, the buildings of Navarre Beach were gone and the visual scene to my left became one of flowing sand dunes spotted with low trees and grasses.  Jim and I pushed on, going over a shallow area where I saw my first stingray. He stirred as I came over him. He jetted out towards the deeper waters. I don’t blame him; the water was hot in the shallows. As we got into the National Seashore I found a “stream” of cooler water. With a little zig-zagging I was able to stay in the four foot wide stream. The stream didn’t last long but was refreshing and welcomed.

Well into the seashore Jim began to swap between swimming and walking the shore. It was nice having another swimmer out there with me. While we weren’t always at the same place (sometimes one of us was towards the shore and the other out deeper and then we would swap, crossing paths with little notice until we would look around for each other), there was comfort in Jim being there. Jim is the kind of guy who literally goes the extra mile with you. He and I have swum together often in a  “Monday night swim group.” Our normal swim route as still 12 miles away. Jim is a smiling face when things were starting to feel tough. Jim has strength in ways I could only ponder. I knew why I was there in that water, but for Jim I only knew he was there to because, “why not” (and I am sure a self-challenge of sorts too). Jim would stay out there for nine miles - incredible.   

The next handful of miles would cause us to have to push out beyond a few more outcroppings and trying to stay out of the currents that were twisting the water through the coves and back out to the channel. While I had already swum through the tide rising and slacking, I was not getting as much benefit as I had hoped with the outgoing current. The chop created by the churning current and slight wind was building, causing me to have some trouble sighting the next landmark. Patrick kept me on track; well as much on track as he could, as I tend to get distracted at times. In these miles I encountered a few more rays and small fish, and a few fishermen wondering what I was doing and if I was scarring away their potential catches.

We came upon Big Sabine Point, which earlier had been discussed as to what it was out in the middle of the water. We thought ship, bridge, or bird... yeah we may have all been a little over exposed to the sun even early on. What we saw from miles back was trees. Trees I would have to swim out and around hitting higher chop, but then seeing the buildings of Pensacola much clearer. We were close enough to see individual windows!

From here Range Point and Portofino were well insight. Even the Pensacola Beach hotels were coming into view.  In the beginning the buildings had given way to the beach. The beach now gave way to the buildings. Those buildings felt like road blocks in my mind. I should have been happy; I was close (well closer). But instead my mind raced with doubt. What I knew in that moment was what I thought was going to be a 17 mile swim was now going to be much longer, meaning it wasn’t over and I wasn’t close. My mind tried to negotiate with my heart, saying, “stop,” trying to say, “you are technically at Pensacola beach, you can be done now.” I was thankful when my heart won out, saying, “keep pushing, its right there.”

After Portofino the crossing became deep again. The seagrass faded away and I was left watching the dark below me. As the sun peaked and hid behind the clouds the water danced beneath me in shades of greens and blues and browns, but my eyes were focusing elsewhere in the distance on a row of hotels that really looked more like Lego pieces from my vantage point.

A few miles out from shore we were met by our friend Chris, who came out on his paddle board. I was thankful to have another safety there as the boat traffic was picking up; Patrick was thankful to have another person there to actually have a conversation with, since he had been pretty much alone for the day. I could hear Patrick and Chris talk as I swam. I stopped and grabbed fluids again and asked what building I was headed towards. Both Patrick and Chris told me to go to the tallest building and that Quietwater Beach/Mommy Beach was right there. I was honestly feeling very defeated still seeming so far away, I actually asked, “Are you sure?” Both of them laughed at me and confirmed they were sure.  It was also shortly after this moment that I was in my swim rhythm and even though I had been breathing to both sides I slammed my left shoulder into Patrick’s kayak after making a strange and sudden turn towards him. I swear I never saw him there and I have no idea why I turned. Over the moments of pain, all I thought was, “Put your head back in the water and swim.” I did.

Soon we were joined by another kayaker, I knew this only because Patrick was chatting again. Tom had joined us and again I was thankful, because the boat traffic was building as people went home or to dinner spots along the beach.  Suddenly I saw Patrick begin the paddle ahead a little and Tom move swiftly to my right side, the fog horn went off and I stopped (as planned), luckily the speed boat stopped too, well quickly turned from us. For the remainder of the swim I would stay with Tom to my right, Chris behind me, and Patrick to my left; I was safe here.

The docks along Quitewater Beach got closer and closer. Soon I was swimming in waters I had swam through many times before. I was home (almost). I stopped one more time to tell Patrick “I was done and going to call it,” but he only laughed at my smiling face and sternly told me to swim. I heard Tom asked if I was serious. Yep it was a joke 15 miles in the making and I was cracking myself up.  Shortly after, the guys broke from me and pushed to shore. I no longer knew if my goggles were leaking or if tears were filling them; it didn’t matter. For the last time my hands brushed the sand. I pulled my legs up under me and stood up, taking a moment to balance. I was there on the shore, greeted by the guys and friends, Mindi and Evan. It was over. 12 hours, 21 minutes, and 1 second from when I started, I was on shore 20 miles away from where I started.

I stood on the shore in disbelief. I looked to the east to see nothing of    
Navarre beach in the distances; it was gone too far away to see now. I know that there are better swimmers than me, faster, farther swimmers than me. But today I swam 20 miles and I am proud of that feat. It still hasn’t sunk in that I swam that, even after picking up the car at the start point it didn’t seem to be a real distance. Even after the congratulations and wows it didn’t seem real. The distance and physical feat has not hit yet- because to me it was a journey in my mind far different from the physical journey. I solved the world’s problems, created world peace, thought of friends and family, mended hearts their hearts and lost relationships, created plans for my work team, and then in the weight of the land so much of it was lost again. My mind is putting together the pieces, maybe not to solve world peace or to mend all hearts, but enough of the pieces to reach out and help make things better. The physical accomplishment will come to my mind in time.

To be on shore was amazing, but even more amazing has been the support. I can’t say thank you enough to those who have been a constant support through this adventure. Thank you to those who have jumped in the water to swim or kayak, to those who have followed the little red dot on live tracking, to those who have offered food along the way, to those who have cheered and laughed with us, and to those who have lifted my spirit when I felt like I was free falling. 

Lastly, to my love a thank you for always being there (even when you drifted back to update social media). Without Patrick 20 miles would not even be a dream dreamt in the darkness; he is the one who breaths in light to my dreams and crazy ideas. It was comforting to look over and see him there beside me, to hear him whisper words of affirmation, and to feel him hold me when the adventure was over. He is my life line. He is my rock. He is the part of my soul that holds me firmly between the course of reality and the freedom of destiny. I can never say thank you to him to express my gratitude for him being there (always) for those words cannot hold my appreciation and love for him.

  

So here is the general data break down:

On 19 August 2017 I swam from Navarre Beach to Pensacola Beach, covering a distance of 20 miles. 20 miles, 12:21:01 time in the water, 11:22:49 total moving time (meaning my treading or standing to eat did not count as moving time but was in the overall time), average moving speed of 1.8mph.  The water temp was about 88 degrees but there were areas of colder water about a foot down, leaving the hot water to sit at the top.  The air temp was mid 90’s; however, felt hotter with the heat index. We encountered a few clouds but no storms.

With this my Tampa Bay Frogman Swim 2018 training has begun, now for speed work and cold waters!!!

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