Complete a long-distance swimming event.

“Other than the pukes, which were such a minor part of this swim, I felt pretty good most of the way and didn’t experience anything out of the ordinary. In a long swim like this, I tend to go through mental stages much like any other major life event. I start out nervous but excited, and hit a real streak of positivity for the first 8 km. I’m happy to be in the water, I’m neither hungry nor burping up breakfast, and all my limbs are doing what they’re supposed to. At some point between 9-12 km, things start to crop up. A nagging headache, a numb left arm/hand, a burning right elbow, a wave of nausea, a fear of not finishing, doubt about future swims, a drop in confidence. Sometimes I decide that this will be my last swim. But somehow, one stroke at a time, the finish grows nearer.”

“The first thing I could sense was the bitter, salty taste of the water. I couldn’t see anything, the water was a deepgreen colour. It was disorienting at first – no indoor pool is like this. I trudged on, my first stroke leading onto becoming my second, third until it became my tenth, then fiftieth. By then I had lost count. I just wanted to keep moving, following the marker buoys. I kept going, one arm slicing the water after the other, and my legs flailing in an attempt to make some movement, to catch up with the other red caps rocketing away in front of me.”

“When my mom returned, I attempted to put my goggles on again. They wouldn’t seal. Not to worry. Like any open water swimmer, I had a back-up pair in the kayak. They didn’t seal either. I was starting to become frustrated, but hope was not lost. Like an experienced open water swimmer, I had a back-up for my back-up. Still no luck with the seal. Now I was panicking. But I wasn’t done yet. Like the Type A personality that I am, I had a back-up for the back-up of my back-up. Still no seal. It was time to panic. And I panicked like a child. I threw a temper tantrum, hitting the water with my fists and screaming obscenities. It helped.”