The Jellyfish Swim of 2022 still holds the top spot for my Worst Open Water Race ever. Swimming in a fog of nothingness & floating out to sea Poverty to Cove race, has now elbowed its way to the second spot over the Miniature Child Swim Cap Debacle of 2022 at the Cedar Island 5K race! Stinging wildlife, weather conditions & swim gear issues will always land a spot on my "never again" race list.
The hot & humid day & 85-degree Lake Nockamixon was a fun challenge, in contrast to the dense fog at last Sunday's Poverty to Cove 2.4-Mile Swim in Cape May. I've competed in all types of weather conditions, but I'll definitely take soaking wet & racing in a Broad Street Run 10-Miler downpour or a hot tub lake any day over drifting out into the Atlantic.
When I swam this race two years ago, my first ocean race, it was a beautiful day & I loved swimming past the oceanfront Victorian houses. Arriving at Poverty Beach about 6:45 a.m., I noticed how many of the over 200 swimmers were wearing wetsuits. I knew the water was unusually cold, but 64 degrees didn't seem too bad (and I don't have a wetsuit anyway). Lifeguards were ready with their paddleboards and rowboats to lead us into the ocean & start the race, which benefitted the Cape May Lifeguard Association. With the mist sweeping in, I was surprised the race organizers didn't postpone or cancel the race. Once the sirens began, I cautiously watched from the back as the hardcore/crazy swimmers ran into the ocean & were rapidly hidden by the growing fog. More of a steady saunter than a brisk walk, I stepped into the surf & felt the cold water send shivers up my legs. Quickly pummeled by the waves, I felt my heartbeat surging & I began to question why we were all doing this.
I heard a lifeguard shout for us to just "dive under" the waves, & that is when the full 64-degree water really became a reality. As I tried to swim parallel to the shore, it quickly became apparent that I had no idea where I was due to the fog. The ocean wasn't too rough but as the race wore on there were times, I could not see any other pink cap swimmers due to the fog. Part of me just wanted to call it quits, especially when I saw swimmers being rescued by lifeguards on paddleboards & jet skis, but I kept thinking 'just a little bit longer'. It was a mix of emotions & feelings. The coldness from earlier in the race, had been replaced by a feeling of numbness, fear & by the end pissed "offness."I don't know how the lifeguards kept hundreds of swimmers safe while they blindly navigated the unforgiving ocean. I could hear their screeching whistles alerting their fellow guards to the jetty I was quite literally swimming into. Am I seriously heading directly into a bunch of jagged rocks?!? One guard shouted, "they're out too deep, bring them in!" During the swim, I had no idea where I was because I could not see the shoreline & locate the quaint Angel of the Sea or Congress Hall, where my mom & I stayed at Christmastime. Finally, I heard from the guards we were near the finish line, so I cut right & headed to the coast. I tried to paste on a smile as I slowly strolled out of the water, it felt like such a bad race. But once I saw my mom & Kev, & reunited with fellow swimmers Kari & Meghan, everything felt a bit better as we commiserated under now sunny skies & enjoyed a beachfront breakfast at the Cove Restaurant & Seaside Deck. And I discovered that seagulls love chocolate chip pancakes.
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