At this point the hardest part is psychological. When you swim a pool practice, there are lots
of distractions. You’re with other
swimmers, so there’s the motivation of trying to keep up with those in your
lane and the adjacent ones. There’s some
socializing before and after, and that makes it fun. Despite some occasional questionable
pool-water quality, you can see really well what’s around you as you go back
and forth. The water is also calm. The coaches make the workouts interesting
(usually), with sets that differ in distance, intervals, number of swims in
each set, the stroke, and so on. And
after an hour and a quarter, you’re done.
None of this prepares you for the boredom that sets in
for the Bay swim. It’s like being in a
sensory deprivation tank for a couple hours.
The water is so murky you can’t see your hands as they pass in front of your
face. The only way to see anything is to
quickly lift your head occasionally to spot a landmark while you swim. Here is what you see while you're swimming:
Nor can you hear anything. Some
swimmers have waterproof MP3 players—called “Swim P3s”—that attach to the back
of goggles, allowing them to listen to music while they swim. You can also gauge your progress by how far
along the playlist you are at points along the way.
Then there’s the fear factor of what you can’t see or hear
that is sharing the water with you: Creatures hostile or hungry, or large
pieces of debris—especially after a big storm.
If you think about it, there is no good reason
to blindly swim across a large body of water populated by such things. I don’t know why anybody would want to do
such a crazy thing. But as I tell
myself, as long as I’m a little faster than the slowest swimmer, I should be
fine.
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