Dimsi + Merle Become Swim Buddies

I can’t quite remember how Merle, a multiple Ironman finisher and friend of mine, became swim buddies last July. This text, the best origin story I can dig up, is from last July. We coordinated swim times, even though Merle lives in Washington D.C. and I’m 1,700 miles across the country in Denver.

Last summer, I made it to the pool way less than I intended to. I’d dip into the chlorine maybe five times a month. While I'm not diminishing a weekly swim, I knew that swimming more regularly would serve my  my body (which thrives on the support of the water), and my spirit (which thrives on the sensory deprivation of the water) quite well.

Merle, on the other hand, was teetering on the edge of true mermaid status. A multiple time Ironman who, over the past few years, had overcome cancer and a hip replacement only to be sidelined by a stress fracture in her (natural) hip, she was using this round of recovery time to become more proficient in the water. She swam at least three, if not more, times a week.

That’s not the only way we are different. Merle loves to visit the pain cave.

Evidence:

Me? If I don’t have a pain cave on my itinerary for the rest of my life, I’ll be just fine. Merle continues to have Ironman ambitions and regularly visualizes herself standing on a podium (spraying a bottle of champagne, no less). My antenna is more tuned toward adventure in a team setting, recounting the day with a round of N/A beer. Merle admits she is super competitive, while my competition dial is hard to ratchet up (see: pain cave). 

The two of us met at a triathlon camp in 2008 in Tucson. I was there for a writing assignment. Many (all?) of the athletes there had an Ironman on their upcoming schedule. I had Ironman dreams, but not Ironman fitness at the time; I was two years out from having Ben, and wanted to just wanted to get back into the sport. I honestly don’t remember much the camp, other than mainlining classic Cokes and Peanut M’n’Ms in my hotel room prior to each workout in an effort to jolt my energy to its highest level. 

I also remember Merle and her partner Lola. The laughter I shared with them over massive lunches at Panda Express helped me survive camp, and our friendship became official when Merle, originally from Estonia, gave me a nickname: Dimsi.

As summer turned into winter, Merle kept racking up yards upon yards. I was content to swim in her virtual wake, never touching the daily or weekly distance she did. Great things happen when you dedicate yourself to improvement, but as all of us know, the path towards becoming better is often filled with exhaustion and self-doubt.

There's something special about accountability over text. You don't have to show up at a specific time or in a specific mood; you just have to show up. If you have a crappy workout, you can just let it be instead of worrying if your lack of motivation or energy is spoiling the experience for your workout buddy. After a great workout, I'd often text Merle from the locker room, right before I showered. By the time I returned to get dressed, she had responded. I loved that casual validation.

Merle kept showing up (for herself and thankfully, for me) and in March, she topped out at a jaw-dropping 7,000 yards. (That's nearly 4 miles, if your yards-to-miles conversion skills are a little rusty.) I don't have proof via text, but she did admit her arms were really tired for the next few days.

A few weeks later, I was near San Diego on spring break, and happened into my dream pool at a YMCA: covered by a glass ceiling, it was spacious and the perfect temperature and salt water. (In my next life, I need to live near a pool like it.) Inspired by Merle the mermaid, I pulled out the longest swim since my (one and only) Ironman days: 4,000 yards (2.2 miles). 

Neither of those swims, however, beat our most recent swim together at the lovely Wilson Aquatic Center in Washington D.C.; our swim sesh was my treat after three stops on the 27th Mile book tour. 

There's another significant way Merle and I are opposites. I'm about a foot taller than she is, and my hands (paddles) and feet (flippers) are sized accordingly. 

For our first time swimming together in 18 years, we didn’t have an agenda, other than to enjoy the time together. The night before, we decided we’d go 3,000 yards, with us alternating setting the set for each 500. It was a random workout—a few drills, a little IM thrown in, some fast 50s—and we didn't chat much during our water breaks. The mermaid is all business when she gets in the water, and I'm not super chatty in the pool either.

We did, however, have a short conversation about strategy is for wall turns. (Neither of us do flip turns regularly.) "How do you approach the wall?" she asked, "Do you reach extra far to get to the wall or take another stroke or….?" Unfortunately, I was no help. “I’m lazy,” I said, “No strategy here. I just come into the wall, turn around and push off.”

The only part that wasn't business? Trying to get a self-timed pic after our swim. We tried and tried and kept failing. So I told that once she hits the bottom of the pool, push off to rocket up as hard as she could. "Dimsi, I can't reach the bottom of the pool," she replied. We laughed—that possibility had never occurred to me—and we tried one more time. 

This, we decided, captured our swim perfectly. 

No wall turns or yards for the next swim Merle and I will be taking on together: The Great Lake Superior Swim in my favorite city, Duluth, Minnesota. Merle, not a cold-water lover, is likely going to speed through the 1 mile, and I've got my eyes on 2 miles.

Glad I've got my swim buddy to help me stay on top of the training.