I almost died on Sunday

I know that sounds overly dramatic, but it's true. I've now cheated death three times, and the third was just 2 days ago.

On Saturday after a pre-race run with the group, several of us dove into the Atlantic (me first, of course) in our running clothes. It was about 60 and sunny outside... and 60 in the water. Cool but oh-so-refreshing.

Sunday after the race, several of us decided to go in again, and this time we even took a minute to change into bathing suits. The air temperature was even warmer on Sunday, which made the water seem colder. Within a minute of diving in, Missy and I noticed that we'd drifted quite a bit to the right of the group. We commented on it but didn't worry a bit. Dave and Dan were in the water, much shallower than we were. I swam back toward Dave, taunted him a bit (called him a wusbag, if I recall), and swam back out to hang with Maureen and Brandy in the deeper water. Maureen and I got to talking, but we noticed that every fourth word or so a wave would crash on our heads.

"How are you doing?" CRASH!
"Oh! So I didn't tell you..." CRASH!
"It's probably better that..." CRASH!
"... do you feel about that?" CRASH!
"I know, and..." CRASH!

I suggested coming in a bit to get away from the waves, but we were unsuccessful. I then suggested swimming in, since both of us are strong swimmers. After about 5 minutes (honestly, I don't know how long it was), I noticed that we hadn't made ANY progress. Brandy was still a bit deeper than we were, and we motioned to her to come in a bit. The folks who had been in the shallow water were now standing on the beach, watching us... from really, really far away. We had drifted considerably... to the right and much, much deeper than we realized. We were caught in a ripcurrent. A really bad one.

I have to admit that I started to panic. I was so tired from the race and from fighting the water that I hyperventilated a bit. Maureen and Brandy were very relaxed, and even though I didn't believe Brandy when she said, "We're making progress... It's just slow," I accepted it and chose to focus on her calming influence.

One thing you should know: I can't float. Never have been able to. Within 5 seconds of trying to float, my legs fall straight down and I'm vertical. So floating wasn't an option. I flipped onto my back anyway and tried to backstroke so that I could keep my head out of the water; however, not being able to see the shoreline freaked me out even more, so I flipped back over. At this point, Maureen pointed out that Kelly was with us too.

I started a frantic, half-assed breaststroke so that I could move toward the shoreline. I turned around a few times to check on the other girls' progress, but every time I did I lost ground. After a few minutes, I decided to just focus on getting out of the water and THEN checking on the others. I can't tell you how guilty I felt at abandoning them and trying to save myself. The guilt was almost as overwhelming as the terror. Almost. As Dave pointed out yesterday, self-preservation is the strongest influence.

Dave said I did my pathetic breaststroke (which is when he knew I was in trouble) for about 10 minutes. That was after 10 or so minutes of trying to float/tread/swim in with Maureen and Brandy. I was so tired, and I did think at two points, "I can see where people give up. It would be so easy to just... give... up." Thankfully, the urge wasn't strong... but if I'd been out there any longer, I am not convinced I wouldn't have given up. Of course, then I would have been hypothermic within a few minutes because I wouldn't have been generating any body heat by moving. Lose, lose.

Once I got close enough that I knew I was within Dave's earshot, I called out one pitiful word to him.

"Help."

Within seconds, he had thrown off his towel and jumped in the water to help me. At this point, I have to rely on his memory, because I have no recollection of what happened. He said he swam toward me. Once he was close enough to reach me, he extended his hand so I could grab it, then pulled me in close to him. We were still in water way deeper than our heads, so he swam/pulled me toward the shore a little more, then shoved me by pushing my ankle away from him toward the beach. After a few tries, I hit land on my hands and knees. (This is where my memory resumes.) I was so weak that the waves were knocking me over and the sand was cutting my knees... but so grateful to be touching bottom that I didn't care. I stayed on my hands and knees for a minute and then got up. A bit wobbly, but very, very grateful to be alive.

Brandy and Maureen had floated a bit until they got out of the riptide's grasp, then swam in. The last one out was Kelly, and Lora and I waded in to give her a hand when she got close enough to shore.

My emotions since Sunday have been all over the place. Fear. Absolute terror. Gratitude that the ocean gave me back. Guilt that I abandoned my friends to save myself. Sorrow that I caused so much worry to so many people. Shame.

But mostly gratitude.

Seagirls forever.