Do you think it’s not possible? Well, I thought so too...
In 2022, I decided to take part in my first 10km open water race. I was really focused on long training sessions in a 25m pool, since I couldn't find time to train in the sea, even though I was already working as an open water coach.
A few months before the race, I went with a group of triathletes who were doing an Ironman in Spain, where the swim would take place in a lake. The day before the event, committed to my own training, I decided to swim in the same lake where the race would happen. I told my husband (who was also doing the Ironman) that I was going to swim for an hour, aiming for about 3km.
He joked: “If you’re not back in 1h30, I’ll call a boat to come search for you!”
I laughed and set off into the lake with my buoy around my waist, no phone.
I was swimming beautifully, loving the sensations, taking in the whole setup for the race and the transition area, as I was staying close to the shore to keep in a safe environment. My watch vibrated to mark the 1km point, and I thought it was time to head back. I kept swimming, though there was wind, creating some waves, and I even felt a current. There was a lighthouse I was using as a reference. I kept swimming, the watch vibrated again at 2km, and I started to think I hadn’t passed that spot and, based on the kilometers I’d swum, I should be near the beach where I started. I also hadn’t seen the water-level measuring post, and in the middle of these thoughts, I suddenly found myself facing a seaweed forest—those plants that grow from the bottom and you can’t see anything in the middle, you know? I had a mini panic attack, but I took a breath, assessed the situation, and decided to turn back to get out of this seaweed forest.
It worked, but I still had no idea where I was. I could see the road on the other side of the lake, but I couldn’t spot where I’d started. Not wanting to risk crossing the lake to the other side, where I might encounter more seaweed, I spotted another road and a small beach ahead. That was where I needed to go. I swam on, and yes, more seaweed. I thought to myself, “You’re strong and you swim well, just push through these plants and you’ll be at the beach in no time.” I forgot that the seaweed sticks to your wetsuit, and the more you try to move, the more it grabs hold... Second mini panic attack. I kept going, arms feeling heavier, but I couldn’t give up. I didn’t see anyone, just cars passing by, but the beach was close—about 300 meters away, I’d say. I calmed down, kept swimming, and finally made it to the beach, which was all pebbles... Phew! I looked at my watch: about 1 hour, just over 3km (it had already vibrated at 3km, but I didn’t notice), and my legs were still a bit wobbly. I was happy with the “training,” but all I could think about was that phrase: “If you’re not back in 1h30, I’ll call a boat to search for you!”
I met a couple at the start of the trail, almost where I’d exited the water, and asked them about the beach where the Ironman would start, as I didn’t even know the names of the places. They were very kind and said, “Just follow the trail, it’s about 1.5km.” And I thought, great, I’ll get there before 1h30. In the heat, with my wetsuit around my waist, buoy in hand, and barefoot, I walked, walked, walked. The watch now said 2km, and I still hadn’t seen any usual pre-race activity. I started running to make up time, barefoot on the trails, 3km. I kept running, and after another kilometer, I started to see athletes and bikes, movement, and... the beach where I’d started swimming about 1 hour and 35 minutes ago, with my husband sitting in the same spot but already looking out at the lake when I tapped him on the shoulder from behind. He got a shock, jumped up, and I, relieved, sat down.
After a few minutes, I managed to recount the whole experience: 3.256 km of swimming and 4.24 km of walking/running. It was scary, but also a bit funny in hindsight. And in the end, I learned a valuable lesson: never go swimming, no matter where, without taking your phone. It may seem impossible to get lost in a lake, but it can happen.
Bibiana Farias