The Xterra Vortex-3 full-body wetsuit took my breath away the first time I used it. Literally. As a tune-up for the Marquee Triathlon, I entered the 1,000-meter Splash N Dash to test-drive my spiffy new purchase.  By the time I circled to the surface of that race, past the thrashing remnants of hands and heels, I found myself plunging down into the black depths of a nightmare.

One week before the main event, I was more confident of drowning in my own excrement than I was of actually finishing the race. It’d taken me longer to swim 1,000 meters in my speedy new wetsuit than it takes me to do 1,500 in a pool. It was the bad dream of overachievers the world over: I’m sitting in the organic chemistry auditorium with a sharp pencil and a Scantron… How did I find myself here? I haven’t been to class all semester… Alkanes? Alkenes? Alkynes? I don’t know this material… and now I have only 10 minutes to finish this exam or I won’t graduate!

WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!

Continue reading Dr. StrangeGlove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Wetsuit →

We’ve been through this before, but it bears repeating: There is no black line on the bottom of the ocean… nor is there one on the bottom of Tempe Town Lake. Most importantly, there isn’t a push-off wall every 25 meters to give my arms a little breather.

There is merely a series of buoys that I have to circumnavigate, swimming shrink-wrapped in a steel-belted radial and dodging a chorus line of heels and hands. Under water, you can’t see them, but you can feel them – in the champagne remnants of their efforts and the thud of their heels hitting your forehead, or worse, when their hands come up from behind, across your heels and hands, like a giant squid pulling you down to the 14-foot depths of a man-made lake.

Continue reading Water-Logged →

After my open-water adventures in the post-tsunami Pacific went so swimmingly, I decided to enroll in a local, lake-swim clinic to get ready for my forthcoming triathlon. It was being held at Bartlett Lake – not too far from my house – and it was free, which has a special appeal since apparently triathlon is a sport that involves a fetish for investing heavily in precious technology.

Continue reading Lake Water →

I stood on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Inside, the blow-dried, TV talking-heads on L.A.’s news leader blared breathless accounts of a pending tsunami, destined to swamp the Southland at any moment. To their unconcealed disappointment the Breaking News Event didn’t happen: Outside, it wasn’t different than any other sunny Southern California morning. Waves crashed on the rocks. Seagulls squawked overhead. Sunlight warmed the horizon. Tomorrow I would be swimming in that ocean, in the aftermath of a tsunami thousands of miles away.

In February, I agreed to be the swimmer for my friend Kristi’s triathlon team. 1500 meters in Tempe Town Lake. I have never claimed to be a fast swimmer – but I am a strong swimmer. I can cross great distances without tiring, probably because I’m so slow. Wanting to be a good partner to Kristi’s significant fitness, I signed up for an ocean swim lesson, taught by Brett Sanson of Zuma Surf and Swim Training. He has more than 20 years experience as a swim instructor and lifeguard on Zuma Beach in Malibu.

Brett is that good: He taught me how to swim in the Pacific Ocean.

Continue reading Open Water →