Finally Fat Fish

For years I've wanted to swim the 3.2 mile Fat Salmon race from I-90 to Madison Park.

Typically, on the mid-July Saturday when the race falls, I'm off on a long bike ride or taking a rest day before Sunday's Sea Fair Tri. This year's knee injury brought the opportunity to swim it at last. Don't you just love silver linings?

I need to learn to hurt out there.

I swam the distance comfortably...finishing in 1:24. That's a long time to swim. By the time I reached the diving platform at Madison, I thought to myself...I should just keep going. It's a beautiful morning. Can I really be done already?

Someone once asked me, "How far can you swim?" and I answered "How far can you walk?"

That's how I felt yesterday. There seemed no reason to stop. I've got to find some speed somewhere. I know it's in the pool, waiting for me, but I just can't face it.

Tomorrow, Liz and I are ditching our wetsuits and starting naked swim season. I think it will be surprisingly liberating. I am tired of neoprene on my shoulders.

My friend Andrew once theorized that chlorine is a drug. Your body gets used to it, he said, and when deprived, starts to miss it. He said he always got the blues in August, because his body missed the chlorine after a few months of swimming in the lake.

My friend Joe once said that chlorine has made him bald.

I think they both might be on to something. My arms and legs are downy like they never get in winter. I've been sad lately, despite the glorious, glorious lake swim mornings.

Yesterday at the Fat Salmon it was like a big, lovely family reunion at the water's edge. I was 9th overall, 3rd in my age group. I swam way too wide, following someone I thought was Michael Jones whose navigation and late-race sprint capacity I trusted. His strong kick pulled me along.

Turned out to be someone else altogether. I bought Michael a chocolat-y chip frappucino at the end of the race all the same.