Grit: The Power of Perseverance and Passion Combined
I had started swimming regularly with two other women and so enjoyed the camaraderie and extra motivation, that when they invited me to join them in something called the Chesapeake Bay Swim, I didn’t hesitate. “If they can do it, I can do it” I thought and told them, “Yup, I’m in!”
For those of you unfamiliar with this event, as was the case with me, the Great Chesapeake Bay Swim is described as “one of America’s premier open water swim challenges” and consists of a 4.4-mile swim across Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay. I didn’t stop to think about the event itself nor the fact that my longest ever open water swim was roughly a mile but focused instead on gaining entrance to the already closed event. I managed to secure a spot and joined the others in the training process, still happily oblivious to what the event involved. I had just been promoted to a new role and was terribly busy getting up to speed on all that entailed. It was easy to keep my head in the sand until finally it dawned on me, I probably should know something more about the actual race, how it worked, what was the course, etc. I started reading about it and watching videos of past competitions and it scared the heck out of me! The swim crosses the bay, directly under a massive bridge, guided by the pilons between which the swimmers must remain. Not so easy, given that the bay is prone to strong tidal currents. Temperatures can range year to year from cold to quite warm and if you are unlucky, the bay may be full of stinging nettles. In learning what I did, my dream of achieving a podium finish rapidly faded, to be replaced with a goal to survive and finish under my own power. Quitting was not an option.
Understanding better the challenge that lay ahead, I started to train in earnest. I was traveling a great deal and my assistant quickly learned to prioritize hotels with pools. I discovered that a swim workout is a wonderful antidote to jet lag! I also found that, yes, it is possible to swim a 5000-meter workout in an overheated 15-meter pool, though that many laps can start to make your head spin. With great joy I landed in Istanbul in May at a hotel with an outdoor 50-meter pool. As last I could do some real quality training I thought, only to learn that the pool had not yet been opened for the season. I wrangled permission to swim in it anyway so long as I accepted the risk of swimming alone. Thus, I found myself the next morning at the edge of the pool with temperatures in the 50’s (Fahrenheit) and a fine drizzle in the air. I was determined to get in that pool and do the workout, so I dove in. It was the kind of cold that burns on contact. I swam towards the other end and thought I would do 100 meters and get out. But then I noticed a crowd on a balcony watching me swim and between not wanting to be embarrassed at exiting so fast and a strong desire to do my training, I convinced myself to at least finish 500 meters. I told myself that surely with water so cold my extremities would start to get numb, which in my mind meant less uncomfortable, or that with the constant movement, I could probably generate enough heat to stay warm. With that I talked myself into 1000 meters, then 2000. By now, my hands were so cold that I had trouble maintaining a cupped palm and decided to swim instead with closed fists, rationalizing that I would focus on getting a good pull with my arms. An hour later, I arrived at the 3000-meter mark and decided that was enough. It was only as I was climbing out of the pool, shivering now uncontrollably, I realized I had swum myself right into a case of hypothermia.
A last key swim for me was to do the actual distance in an indoor pool in my wetsuit, sort of a wet version of a dry run! That meant 320 lengths of a 25-meter pool set at 82 degrees F. I finished that swim and felt surprisingly good. I was ready to go.
The day of the big event arrived and the weather was spectacular, sunny and warm, with water temps hovering around 80 F. That brought with it a debate of whether to use a wetsuit or not, given the risk of overheating. Based on my “dry” run, I knew that I would be fine with my wetsuit and feel more secure knowing I was wearing something that would add buoyancy should I get into trouble as well as protect me, for the most part, against any nasty stinging creatures floating in the bay. My friends were nervous and agitated and opted finally to go sans wetsuit. We had to wait several hours on the far shore while the organizers finalized the preparations. I found a shady spot and settled in, conserving my energy for the challenge ahead. The race is limited to 650 swimmers for safety reasons, and they start in the two waves, 15 minutes apart, with the faster swimmers in the second wave. I had put myself in the second wave while still dreaming of a podium finish, while my 2 friends, even the one who was much faster than me, opted to go with the first wave. At last the big moment came and I was off. The start, with 325 swimmers entering the water simultaneously, was a melee of thrashing arms and legs. Once that calmed I settled into a long, easy rhythm. I drafted behind other swimmers when I could and cruised on my own when I couldn’t. It wasn’t long before I started seeing swimmers with caps from the first wave and that gave me a great confidence boost! Midway they had anchored a raft where swimmers could rest and get water. I saw it but felt good and kept going.
It wasn’t until I was roughly three-quarters of the way that I started to get tight and struggle to keep my form. I rolled over and did backstroke to loosen up. With the tightness came negative noise in my head and I recalled the 3000 meters in Istanbul. If I could do that, I could certainly do this, I told myself and resumed swimming freestyle. As I neared the end of the bridge, I realized with a sinking feeling that was not the end of the race but instead we had to swim out from under the bridge, round a point and head for what seemed to be a still distant sandy beach, maybe another 800 meters. The water was shallow and I could even see the bottom. Soon I observed other tired swimmers stopping to the left and right of me to stand on that bottom and rest. I carried on towards the beach, somehow turning over my now exhausted arms. After 2 hours and 14 minutes of swimming, I emerged from the water, with just enough left to walk through the chute and have my final time verified. I was both spent and jubilant to have arrived at the finish under my own power.
My talented friend who had gone off with the first wave was waiting as I came up the beach and much to my surprise, I learned that my time was faster than hers. Could it be possible I wondered that I was competitive in the race and not just a happy survivor? As the official times were recorded and posted, it was revealed that not only had I made it to the podium, but I had actually won our age group.
Over the years I have reflected many times on that race and all the wonderful lessons that came of it, a lot of which apply to life and career in general, and one stands out. I had real doubts about whether I could finish the race and even wondered if I might be putting myself in danger, but I was passionate about doing all I could to succeed and persevered in my training through the craziness of heavy international travel, through small hot pools and large cold ones, jet lag, meetings, and more. In the end, it was grit, that combination of passion and perseverance, that got me to the finish and onto the podium. When we, as humans, set our minds to achieve something, that if we combine our passion to achieve that something with perseverance to keep going no matter what, we can accomplish things far beyond what we ever imagined.