Monsters of the Shallows

The two objectives I had for swimming in the bay this morning as opposed to the ocean were to take advantage of swimming sans wetsuit due to the "warm" water, and to ease my paranoid mind as far as evil sea creatures go.

Last weekend coming out of the cove, I was razzed fairly heavily by an old man about wearing a wetsuit to swim. And a friend of mine last week, shocked to hear I was still swimming in a wetsuit, informed me that she had been hanging out in the water off the pier in a two piece and was perfectly comfortable. I started thinking maybe I need to toughen up and get used to swimming without one. Especially in the "warm" 73  degree water. But now I've decided that I just need to accept the fact that I am very sensitive to the cold, and just embrace my warm, lovely wetsuit. For those who haven't heard, I've got Raynaud's. Not only do I get cold very easily, but when I get cold, the arteries in my wrists spasm and limit circulation to my hands. They go numb and turn all sorts of shades of blue and white, even in 73 degree water.

The human body is about 98.6 degrees. It doesn't take a math whiz to figure out that the "warm" water is 25 degrees colder than the average human body.

I'll have you know, USA Triathlon rules allow wetsuits up to 78 degrees without penalty. Between 78.1 and 83.9, you can wear a wetstuit but will be ineligible for awards. Above that, wetsuits are not allowed.

So why not wear a wetsuit on a training swim? You're more buoyant in a wetsuit, which can act as a crutch if you're not a very good swimmer. I have no problem floating or treading water when there's no opportunity to hang on the pool wall, and salt water makes you float more anyway. In other words, I don't need to worry about my wetsuit handicapping me.

I digress. Bottom line, I'm wearing the damn wetsuit. Screw what others think. Forget objective number one.

So... sea creatures. I'm fairly convinced that if you can't see the sea creatures, they are most likely there. This isn't one of those things where ignorance is bliss.

I arrived at my swim spot this morning in a corner of Mission Bay, stripped down to my swim suit, and walked down to the water with my towel, cap and goggles.

Scuba divers were practicing their dives and a few young boys were in the water up to their knees collecting some sort of creature in a bucket. I waded in to my thighs and pulled my bright yellow cap over my head. I was hoping boaters would see it and decide not to run me over. I do have a tiny morsel of faith in humanity and have decided that most people do not want manslaughter on their record and therefore will attempt to avoid running me over with their boat, or running me over with their car when I'm cycling.

The water was cold, but not painfully frigid. I put my goggles on and dipped in to my shoulders. I lay on my stomach sculling the water, getting my chest used to the cold before putting my face in and beginning to swim. It was only seconds before I was deep enough and the water murky enough that I couldn't see anything but my own arms and hands. So much for objective number two.

For a few minutes, I focused on gliding through the water and practiced my sighting by aiming for the only bright blue boat moored in the bay. Once I got to the blue boat, I aimed for the lifeguard stand on the other side of the basin. I saw a guy on his boat moving about.

I suddenly felt a surge of wake that jerked me out of my calm. I looked around expecting to see a boat zipping through the bay. There was none, which both unnerved me and comforted me. On one hand, I was not about to be run over by a boat. On the other hand... what the hell was that?!

Cue panic.

Can I tell you how much I hate that panicked feeling that I get while swimming in open water? I am a very strong swimmer, I realize the likelihood of being attacked by something in the ocean or bay is incredibly slim, and yet I can still panic out there for no reason. It's almost debilitating. Kinda like when I have a standoff with a spider on my wall and my heart starts racing, my hands shake, and I break out into a sweat as I yell at the spider and throw things at it. Phobias are interesting. Knowing they're irrational does nothing to ease the fear.

Cue pep talk. Carrie, do not be ridiculous. Nothing is going to attack you. Focus on your sighting and smooth strokes.

Two people on stand-up paddle boards came towards me. I wonder if they saw me. Probably. They were probably worried about sea creatures too. I veered out of their line and they went on the other side of a boat. Although I was the same distance from the shore I was swimming parallel to, the further I got from my starting point, the more my irrational fears took over. Something was going to eat me.

I decided to turn around. I could see people walking on the shore and could hear them talking. What would happen if something attacked me? Would they help? No. Probably not. They would watch in horror from the shore. I'm just not so sure it's wise to jump into the water to save a person who's being attacked by an unknown (or known) sea creature. Maybe best to just call 911 and take a video while you wait.

I sighted the blue boat and continued my soothing pep talk to try to calm my nerves. Carrie, don't be an idiot. This is so stupid. You're paranoid. That's what this is, paranoia. It's ridiculous. When are you going to grow out of this?

My stroke became a little choppy as my nerves caused me to tense up. The tip of the ring finger on my right hand had long since gone numb. I checked it occasionally for color loss, but my hands were too pale to tell and my goggles were fogged up.

Something touched my foot!!! SOMETHING TOUCHED MY FOOT!!!!

I thrashed about, desperately trying to escape... the tiny piece of seaweed.

I put my face back in and tried to recover some semblance of calm.

It touched me again!! It's following me! It's after me!

I sat up and looked around frantically. Calm was out the door. No one was going to save me, I was going to die a horrible, terrifying, and most likely painful death.

I saw two more people on paddle boards up ahead, the scuba divers just beyond them. I think maybe the paddle boarders would come to my assistance. I'm pretty sure if the scuba divers saw some crazy sea creature, they'd let everyone else in the water know. 

What sea creatures do I fear in the open water? It depends. Out in the ocean, it's mostly sharks.

But there are no sharks in the bay right? (Right. Even though it feeds right into the Mission Bay channel, which goes right out into the ocean.) So what does a bay sea creature look like?

Maybe it's the murkiness of the water. Maybe it's the removal from the ocean that takes away ocean characteristics from these creatures. But the sea creature I envisioned while swimming in the bay this morning looked something like this:

Except a little more murky-calm-water looking, like with a touch of this guy:

And as I try not to stare into the depths of the murky water, all I can see in my mind is something like this:

While I'm fairly certain all of those creatures are found at depths I do not swim, I cannot help but feel like they are constantly stalking me, waiting for their opportunity to strike. And it won't be quick and painless, they'll toss me about like sharks and killer whales do to their prey, terrorizing them until death becomes mercy.

I have no idea how I make it through my open water workouts.

This is what I see while staring into the water while swimming:

Except without the little tiny fish.

This is what is going on beneath me while I swim:

Except without the brave sea monster slayer. So like me swimming, about to be eaten.

I made it shore unharmed physically. As I went about my ride, I analyzed my swim in my head. It was almost like I had been more paranoid while swimming in the bay than the ocean. Perhaps I'd rather be eaten by a great white than one of the murky water sea creatures. I thought about what would happen if I swam in a swimming pool that you couldn't see in. It occurred to me that I would be far more frightened in that case, and the images that I conjured up in my head are not fit to be published on this blog. Maybe the shark thing is a more practical way to die. Less frightening. Wouldn't you rather be killed by a bear than some sort of monster you've never seen before? More natural I guess.

So some more beautiful photos were taken on my ride, where I was far more likely to be killed by one of the many cars but didn't feel nearly as much fear.

Fort Rosecrans:

Ocean Beach:

All taken with my cell phone, which isn't nearly as good as my camera. I should start taking that on my rides.