Fear Can Be a Beautiful Thing

I woke up before my alarm went off this morning at 5:14 am. It is so much easier waking up in the summer when it is light outside.
As I packed up supplies, swimming gear, towels, sweats, food and drinks, I was getting excited to have a this six-hour swim completed, another huge step closer to being ready for the English Channel. I had no idea what I was in for that morning.

I slid on my swim suit that was still damp from my four-hour swim yesterday, and it still smelled like pond scum even though I had scrubbed it with dish soap the night before. As I turned around to lock my door behind me, I thought to myself, "I cannot believe I'm doing this. My roommate is still sound asleep and probably won't be up for another few hours. Wait. The entire WORLD won't be awake for another couple of hours. It's Sunday!"

I climbed into my car and buckled my seat belt. I then realized that my car is beginning to smell incredibly musty from climbing into it still wet after each swim. Pew!

I picked up my kayaker, Tim J., and we drove to get the kayaks before heading to the upper part of the Coralville Reservoir to train. As we got closer to the beach where we would enter the water, we saw a locked gate that said, "Beach Closed". Perfect. We came all of the way out here for nothing. So what do we do? Head to the nearest boat ramp and enter there instead. You get to a point in your training when you cannot let anything get in your way, because you realize every opportunity to train is crucial in reaching your goal.

When Tim and I arrived at the boat dock, we got out of the car and began getting the kayak ready while waiting for my brother, Mike. Mike would be on land with a walkie-talkie while we were out on the water, so that we could contact him in case of an emergency. He was running late, so after everything was ready to go, we were just standing around and chatting. Suddenly, far off in the distance, we heard what sounded like the low rumbling of thunder. I had looked at the weather report this very morning, and it did not say we were going to get any thunderstorms until around noon. I figured it must be far off and it would miss us. As I began removing my sweats and putting on my cap and goggles, an older man came up to us and began to talk. He looked at us and said, "What are you doing? Are you going swimming? Out there? You're crazy! It's foggy and the water's freezin'!"

To avoid telling him that yes, I was indeed swimming out there, in the freezin' water, I asked him, "Is it supposed to storm soon?" To which he replied, "I don't give a sh$%! I'm from Missouruh. You're storms aren't nuthin'! Then, out of the blue, he yells, "Man! She's built like a brick house!" And as he began to walk away, he muttered under his breath, "Tough gal. Welp, don't get run over out there!" I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not. I looked at Tim half-puzzled, half wierded-out and asked him, "Did he just say I was built like a brick house? I think that's good?"

As Mike pulled into the boat ramp area, Tim and I picked up the kayak and moved down the ramp. After pushing Tim off onto the reservoir, I plunged into the frigid and murky water. It was so foggy, you could barely make out the opposite shore. It was an odd yet beautiful scene, almost as if we were pushing off into the edge of the world and nothingness began to wrap itself around us.

Immediately I began to sprint to warm up my body. Every now and again I would hear a boat speeding near us, so I popped up my head to make sure they weren't close. There was no way they would see us out in this, so we had to make sure to speed out of their way. The funny thing is, I can hear a boat coming under water, before the kayaker can even see it above water. A boat motor bellows under the water and sounds a lot like a high-pitched table saw. I can understand why fish and other water animals avoid boats-the sound is super annoying and obnoxious!

After my first feeding, around an hour into the swim, Tim said, "Cheyanne, does it seem like it's getting darker to you?" I told him, "No. My goggles are already tinted so I can't really tell." So we continued onward.

We began passing by a campground and I hate it when this happens. You can always smell their campfires and the delicious food they are cooking. I sometimes wonder if I were to climb out of the lake covered in mud and pond scum, climb up the hill to their camp site, plop down next to them and ask them if I can have a hot dog, if they'd say, "yes"?

As we turned around to head back the other way for another hour lap, I noticed it was starting to rain. Ten minutes later, the rain began to really fall and it started to feel like it was coming down really hard. I popped up my head and asked Tim if he was okay with getting drenched. Then, all of a sudden, "BaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGGG!" A thunder crash really close shook the lake and the valley we were in. Tim and I looked at each other and said, "Sh%^! GO!" I grabbed onto the back of his kayak as he power paddled towards the boat ramp. We were still 2-3 miles away from the ramp and the wind was picking up, making the water very choppy. The rain was coming down harder and it began to hail. It was hitting us in the face and I let go of Tim's kayak and told him to head back as fast as he could. Part of his kayak paddle was metal and we were out in the middle of a body of water! The rain and hail were coming down so hard and the wind was ripping through the valley. You couldn't see anything! As Tim bolted back to the boat ramp, he disappeared into nothingness. I was all alone.

I looked all around me and I couldn't see anything. The lightening was really close and I suddenly felt very naked out in the middle of this lake, with no shelter. I began to sprint as fast as I could towards the direction I thought was the boat ramp. The hail and rain were burning my back and arms so I turned them over faster and faster. The water was so choppy. "This is perfect preparation for the channel!" I thought. I stopped to see if I could see Tim. Nope. Still nothing. For some reason, I stopped and just took it in. The intensity of this storm. How dangerous this moment was. I realized that I was in this mess and there was nothing I could do about it now. I said a few silent prayers of course, but in all honesty, the fear and intensity of the moment was beautiful in a very strange way. Never did I imagine myself in a moment such as this in my entire life. When I began swimming in my younger years, I never thought a sport I loved so much would take me on such an adventure. As I squinted into the distance, I could make out Tim coming back towards me. Then, I saw headlights. My brother had driven his car down onto the ramp and pointed his headlights in my direction so that I could find my way back. Brilliant! As I got closer to the ramp, the wind picked up even more. It whipped Tim's kayak around 180 degrees and nearly flipped him over. "BACK PADDLE!" I yelled, and I grabbed onto the handle of the end of the kayak and began to side stroke towards the ramp as hard as I could. When I could touch, I dragged Tim and the kayak in so Tim could hop out. We began to carry the kayak back to the trailer and I had to stop every few steps to put the kayak down. My arms were dead from sprinting the final 2-3 miles back to the ramp so my hand wasn't gripping very well. Once the kayak was put away, the rain stopped long enough for me to throw on my sweats and climb into my car. Tim was dripping wet. I was now dryer than Tim. Funny!

When I started the car, Tim and I looked at each other and I screamed, "HOLY S$%! What an adventure!"  (pardon the language!)

Moral of the story is, sometimes surprises and hardships are thrown into the monotony of our daily lives for a reason. They can be difficult and even scary sometimes, especially when in order to confront the situation, we must venture into the unknown. When these things happen, if we stop and take a pause before moving forward to get out of the situation, we may even realize the moment can be a gift of grace. A moment that will make us stronger and wiser than we were before. Sometimes a moment of fear can be a very beautiful thing. If we take that moment of pause, the majesty and beauty of the moment can sometimes be breathtaking. Not that I would recommend swimming out in a lake during a severe thunderstorm, but if it just so happens.........


Swimcerely,

Cheyanne

Surrender

This past Friday, May 13th, I had the privilege of being on Iowa Public Radio's program, The Exchange, with Ben Kieffer. It was a half-hour interview, but it went by in a blink. It was a cold and rainy early afternoon, but the building that the radio station was in was very cozy and welcoming. As I drove home, I replayed the interview in my mind. The part of the conversation with Mr. Kieffer that stuck with me the most was when we discussed Lynne Cox, perhaps one of the greatest long distance swimmers the world has ever known. We had both read her book Swimming to Antarctica and I had talked about how the book had awakened me as a swimmer. The book had given me so much perspective and insight, along with many mental tools I have used in my training to prepare for my channel crossing in August. Gosh-it will be here in just 2 and a half months!

Early that same morning, I had been out swimming for a little over an hour in the frigid cold water of the Coralville Reservoir, with my brother kayaking by my side. We began at 5:30am while it was still dark. Putting your face into murky, slimy waters when it is still dark out, can be a little unsettling until you get used to it. Growing up with four brothers, I was always a tom boy, but brushing your hands against questionable slimy objects in those murky waters in the dark morning is enough to make anyone's toes crinkle up.

This past Monday after a weekend of rain and temperature drops, I headed out early again to do a two hour swim. The water temp was 58 degrees, with windy and cold air in the lower 40s. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but I figured we could at least try and get out of the water if I ran into trouble. The first half-hour of cold water swimming is always the hardest part because the cooled blood on the surface of your body is being pumped back into your core to be warmed up. The cold blood being pumped into your head can cause your head to pound and ache, just like an ice cream headache. Once that is past and I'm settled into my stroke, I don't notice the cold too much until I to stop to feed, or if I am passing through a pocket of water that is a couple of degrees colder.

You are probably wondering what a person thinks about when they are swimming for hours and hours with their face down in murky dark water, not seeing anything past their elbow. I thought I would be bored out of my mind, but the truth is, the time passes faster than when you can see where you are going in a lap pool. The unknown creates a lot of anticipation and never being able to look up and see a clock leaves you constantly wondering, "Hmmmmmm. I wonder what time it is. NO SHUT UP! It has probably only been 5 minutes since the last time you wondered. Get back to swimming!"

Back to Lynne Cox's book. After a long time swimming in the lake, my mouth tastes like I licked a frog. You know that fishy smell from your childhood when your dad was cleaning the cat fish he just caught? That is what I smell like and taste when I've been in the reservoir. I try very hard to keep my mouth closed, but water going into your nose and mouth is just something you have to accept. When it gets to be unbearable, I think back to chapter 8 in Lynn's book in which she swims a race in the Nile River.

During this chapter, she is invited to compete in a prestigious race in the Nile River. In Egypt, distance swimmers are worshipped just like famous soccer players or movie stars. Once there, she becomes very ill with dysentery because someone had filled her water bottle with water directly from the faucet. The public water systems in Egypt were anything but sanitary. Unable to stomach anything for days, she still competed in the race.

The Nile was a ditch of sludge and sewage. She could not see anything and is instantly covered in a layer of slime and oil residue. She passes by the dead bodies of fish, rats, garbage, and even puts her hand through the rib cage of a dead dog. At one point, the river is so shallow that she cuts her hand on some glass while pulling her arms through mud up to her elbows. After drifting into dehydration and hypothermia, she pulls out of the race and has to be rushed to the hospital.

Reading this chapter gave me so much respect for her. Her love for swimming and using that love to bring many countries together, inspires me as I use my love of swimming to unite people who want to find a cure for cancer. She not only swam the Nile, but began by crossing the Catalina Channel in her early teens, swimming the English Channel as a teenager, crossing the Bering Strait, and swimming in Antarctica-in only a plain swimming suit, goggles, and swim cap. She used her swimming to help ease the tensions between the U.S. and Russia during the cold war(Bering Strait swim), and also used her arctic swims to help aid valuable research in better understanding the effects of hypothermia on the human body.

Her mental strength is something incredible to behold. As I bury my face into that murky water and swim in frigid waters for multiple hours, I always think of her and those people I am doing this swim for: those who have fought or are currently fighting cancer.  As you can imagine, swimming in slimy, frigid water for hours on end is nothing compared to being stuck multiple times by needles, losing your hair, constantly being ill and weakened from chemotherapy, being disfigured or losing a valuable organ from surgery, staggering medical costs; all without a solid promise of a full recovery. These inspiring individuals surrender to the miserable things they must go through for months or even years, in order to hold on to their most precious gift: life. Please consider helping me use this swim to help honor those you love who have battled cancer. By providing seed money to the next generation of passionate researchers and fresh ideas, perhaps one day we can give cancer patients a promise of a full recovery and the promise of a future.
Please go to http://www.crossingforacure.com and make your donation today. Thank you!