What scares you? I asked my (non-swimming) friends what they wanted to know about open water swimming, and one asked, “What scares you?” That’s a great question. I am scared of all sorts of things. But almost none of them can get me in the water.
There are people who head out into the wild, climbing mountains and flinging themselves off cliffs, as a way of confronting their fears, but that’s not me. I returned to swimming as an adult as a way of dealing with anxiety. When I am in the water, I am literally swimming away from my fears.
When my children were small, one of my fears was that I would fall down the stairs while holding a baby. It’s a completely rational fear. I know someone who fell down the stairs while carrying a baby. The baby broke a leg. It’s the earth that is out to get you, my friend: one wrong step, and gravity will suck you down and break you.
But one wrong stroke in the water? There’s no such thing. Water is a great big buffer between you and all that could hurt you: the crazy man with the gun, the phone call in the night, the slip on the stairs. And it is absolutely reliable. The water wants to hold you up. It will always hold you up.
As Benjamin Franklin wrote to Oliver Neave, “You will be no swimmer till you place some confidence in the power of water to support you.”
It is possible to swim in dangerous water. You can swim from Cuba to Florida through box jellyfish. But you can also cover yourself in honey and sit on fire ant hills. I’ve had scarier encounters with squirrels on land (really, squirrels are crazy) than with anything I’ve ever encountered in water.
Last time I swam in Lake Jocassee, a little bass nipped at my leg while I was standing in shallow water. I yelped and looked down. There were a half dozen fish around me. I was yelling at them when I realized that my kayaker couldn’t see the fish and that, as far as he was concerned, I was shouting, “Back off, you little buggers!” at my feet. That is my most dangerous animal story: a fish nipping at my leg while my kayaker questioned my sanity.
I am not a risk taker. I check conditions; I swim with friends. If I have any doubt about safety, I don’t swim. I have driven an hour to the lake, waited thirty minutes for a storm to pass, and driven an hour home without sticking a toe in. But if the conditions are good, I feel safer in water than I do on land. I’m not scared when I’m swimming.