“You were just swimming around for nine months! My little fish,” my mom recalls.
I was born for the water.
As St. Pete residents, my parents had the foresight to enroll all of us kids in swim lessons from an early age. We also joined swim team each summer, which kept us active as well as comfortable in the water. The more I swam, the more I loved it. I didn’t care whether I was in a pool or at the beach — or even in the canal behind my parents’ house, looking for manatees — I could not get enough. Eventually, I was enrolled in swim team year-round. I enjoyed practice every day and the adrenaline of each swim meet. In high school my coaches awarded me MVP.
A bad bout of depression and some angry teenage years later, I quit all of the sports I had been involved in — including swim team. Several years passed before my toes touch the bottom of a pool again.
Today, I look at swimming in a new light. Rather than regret quitting or wonder where it may have taken me, I focus on what swimming does for me now. Signing up for a triathlon reminds me how it feels to dive back in; how being underwater is surreal and almost magical. Each stroke is a meditation.
Underwater, everything is quiet. Blue. Calm.
The swim portions of triathlons are open water; therefore, in training it is important to switch up pool swims with open water swims. This is when it really comes in handy to live in St. Pete — not only is the beach nearby, but there are groups of locals who meet up regularly for group swims. Attending group swims is not only much safer than swimming long distances alone; it’s also a great way to meet new people and get amped about an upcoming race (during the walk down the beach to the mile marker, there are only so many things one can make small talk about with a fellow swimmer until triathlons come up).
Taking on the open water is a humbling experience: I have always felt confident in the pool, but when I try my first beach swim I am shocked at the difficulty imposed by waves and murky water. Only being able to see a couple of feet in front of me—as opposed to the clear lines of the chlorinated Coquina Pool at USFSP — is, in a word, unnerving. I battle the waves and fight my way forth.
Each training session I pull on my bathing suit and am reminded of the half mile swim I am working towards. I think of the waves, of the other competitors I will inevitably encounter on race day. I think about high school and what could have been; of race day and what may happen. I move forward.
The water is my haven, and I am thrilled to be part of it again. The St. Anthony’s Triathlon is the first major race of the season, and though it is still chilly enough for the lifeguards at USFSP to bundle up and dance around the pool’s perimeter in attempt to stay warm, I am happy to be getting my feet wet. Quitting swim team in high school may mean I didn’t break any records or attend an out-of-state college on scholarship, but it won’t keep me out of the water now.
After all — I was born for this.
This article appears in Mar 30 – Apr 6, 2017.
