and I hope "Nemo" is OK.
Today was our first swim at Wildcat Lake in Kitsap County. At 7:30 in the am. The pre-swim report was that the water temperature was a balmy 61 degrees. I carefully loaded everything, including crutches, in the truck last night.
Orientation involved meeting and loving the goldfish Nemo, then releasing him to freedom in the lake. The concept being that he is the friendly face of all the "scary" critters that our imaginations conjure up when swimming in murky water.
Nemo and his friends and family didn't scare me. Getting into the water scared me. The logistics of it all. Leg on bank? Crutches? Hop? Sand? Rocks? Yes, I do tend to over think things, but it is certainly not my nature to rely on others for help. Not even little Nemo, who likely is still trying to figure out where the heck he is and why he is so cold.
I opted to leave the leg up high on the bank and crutch to the bulkhead. Following all the other women in their fancy, schmancy, tri wetsuits. I believe there were three of us Scottish types, who just couldn't yet justify the expense. (Then there is the fact that those expensive wetsuits that I might purchase now would hopefully be waaay too big come the end of the season! Yep, that's the real reason.) So I crutch to the water and hop into the lake. It is nowhere near as cold as I think it should be. Perhaps it is the fact that the air temperature is much lower than the water temperature. Now comes the hard part. I must navigate from the just above ankle height water to the just above knee height water so that I can swim out to waist height water. On rocks. ouch! (Make note: buy water socks.) No thank you. I can do this myself. Funny, I hear my voice sounding like the grand kids' voices. Now remember, this is an orientation, right? That means lots of standing around listening, then a bit of doing, then more listening. I opt for sitting in the shallower water. At neck height when sitting. I look at all those wetsuit clad women standing at the bulkhead shivering, and smile...until I think about Nemo. Oh my gosh. Isn't this about where she released him? Suddenly my imagination takes off and I am sure that I can feel goldfish fins struggling under my less than svelte tush. Of course it is not real, I convince myself, about the time we go for another drill. I do, however, make sure that I feel around carefully before I plant aforementioned tush for the next round of instruction.
All is well. I survived and no one needed to be rescued this morning. I even made it in and out of the lake without assistance. It was nice to have the offers, however, and I need to make sure they all know that. (Another note made.) Same time next week. This next time there will be no fear of sitting on Nemo, or worse, swallowing the now flattened dead Nemo as I swim to the piling and back.
It wasn't that cold. Puget Sound on the first of January? THAT was cold.