Steve Omi Memorial Swim, Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho
by docsteve on 07/21/08 at 9:14 pm
My son made some remark about a mid-life crisis. If that’s what this was, it started in my 20’s, when I was paddling around in ponds like Utah’s Bear Lake. I’ve never been able to swim fast. So I swim as far as I can.
On July 20, 2008, theSteve Omi Memorial Swim marked its 15th anniversary. I had decided a few months before to participate… following about four years without any serious training. I’d worked up to two miles in the pool, but pool time isn’t anything like open water.
Spooky things happen when the bottom drops out and you don’t have those reassuring lane markers to follow to the wall. There’s some primeval instinct that gets us to thinking about unspeakable creatures from deep, dark places that rise to swallow thrashing morsels on the surface.
But… there’s safety in numbers. More than 70 swimmers had pre-registered for the Omi event, and a lot more participants waited until an hour before the starting “GO!” to pay their registration fee (spectators get in free). The field ranged from pre-adolescents to the chronologically experienced; weekend waterdogs shouldered into the drink beside elite athletes. Adventurous swimmers eschewed wetsuits, but many participants mentioned that the water was a bit colder than last year and expressed gratitude for their neoprene skins.
We hit the water at the western edge of the golf course, where 15th Street runs into Lake Coeur d’ Alene. I deliberately stayed out of the pack, preferring something more sedate than that frenzied press of arms and legs. Not too far from the starting line, the diving reflex set in: heart slowing, momentary panic, struggle for breath…then the rhythm, the relaxation, and the sense that I could swim a long way.
Though I strayed off course from time to time (it really would have helped to swim it beforehand) the kayakers who’d stretched out along our route guided me—and a lot of other wanderers—safely to the finish line. I even saw the sheriff out there…
…good thing I wasn’t speeding.
Photography by Tonya Attridge. Zipper management by Nichole Nevenhoven.
