There’s something special about ocean swimming, and the races in particular.
Long distances, currents, chop.
It’s half conditioning, half grit.
I remember the start of one race in particular, it was the Shepparton Half Ironman. I was racing in the Open/pro category, even though I really wasn’t quite ready for it.
Story of my life.
Anyway, within about 40 meters, I’d been punched, crawled over and subsequently lost my goggles (in a muddy lake, where you couldn’t see anyway).
The rest of the race was a nightmare.
The most interesting part though of any open ocean swim, is the finish.
When we start to catch waves, the race can change in an instant. On the way in to shore, if there’s a swell running, someone can go from fifth place right into first.
The effect (for the wave catcher) is literally like magic. Exhilarating.
Yet at the same time, it’s totally reasonable, and makes perfect sense.
The funny thing is how rarely in life we choose to align with the waves.
Day to day, we grind. The up-river swim.
We are socially addicted.
We see this reflected in our work of course, but also in our exercise, and general inability to “allow.” When a wave does come our way, and there’s a window of relaxation, the common response is simply to pick up a phone and start scrolling.
The question is, how long do we want to swim against the waves, before we allow ourselves to turn and catch a few of them in?
What does it feel like to give ourselves permission to do more of what’s working, and less of a lot of the mindless activity that is burning us out?
