How can the same 24 hours feel so incredibly long?
Yesterday had 24. The day before too. But now—on the eve of my 50-mile swim—time moves slowly, each moment stretched…
Here I sit, exactly 24 hours before we head to the dock to set out for my 50-mile swim. I know this moment will never happen again—no moment ever will—but this one feels particularly poignant. The last few weeks have been vacation hours: soaking up the big city of Boston, then maritime meanderings in Maine. Hard to believe the last time I slept in my own bed was just 10 days ago—it feels like months.
I’ve tried to simply be in these days, and I’ve come to a full, present feeling. Time stretches when you stop rushing toward the next thing and start inhabiting the space you’re in.
Once I saw my family off and arrived in Vermont, there were tussles over weather and timing for the swim, but once the start was set, I found some ease, a spaciousness. The anxiety dreams still come. The anticipation. The what-about-this-or-that thoughts. But overall, I can rest in comfort with what’s coming.
I have no control over the weather. Or if the boat falters. Or how well I’ll keep my feeds down. What I can control is my body in the water and the emotions that surface along the way.
I can hardly believe my luck; I’ve gathered an all-star team to support me. Tomorrow, August 27th at noon Pacific/3 PM Eastern, we’ll push off. Every 30 minutes, they’ll toss me a bottle of nutrition to keep my energy up. Every few hours, I’ll try something more solid. Day will turn into night. The stars will shine bright. If all goes well, we’ll reach Magog at dawn, turn for home, and swim down the lake with the morning sun on my back.
Lake Memphremagog from the Shattuck Hill Overlook
This lake is where it all started for me in 2009—a lifetime ago! I set out for a one-mile swim, awestruck by those who finished 10. I couldn’t believe so many people had the guts to push off the bottom and swim into the unknown for hours. That wonder carried me forward: three miles the next year, then 10.
In 2011, I joined a relay across the 25-mile lake. We didn’t make it, but the seed was planted. Two kids and a move across the country later, I returned in 2019 and reached Magog. On the boat ride back, I wondered: what if I just kept swimming?
And that’s what I’ll try tomorrow.
Time moves in circles sometimes. Fifteen years ago, I watched with awe. Tomorrow, perhaps someone will follow my swim and wonder… “what am I capable of in the water?”
May the cycle continue. Are you standing at the edge of something asking for courage? Let’s step forward together.
