BLSx2
This is a first-person account of my Boston Light Double swim on August 5, 2019, written a few days after the swim. The BLSx2 is a tide-assisted, cold water swim that starts from South Boston’s M Street Beach and winds through the Boston Harbor Islands to Little Brewster Island and back for a total 16 miles (25.8 km).
The path of the swim
August 4, 2019. My alarm is set for 4:20 a.m. It’s Sunday night, and I both want to and do not want to go to sleep, because I know that when I wake up, the day I’ve been waiting for all year will be here. Am I prepared? Is everything packed? I hope so. I do a yoga stretch routine, and during the final “namastes” I say a little prayer to Poseidon asking for calm seas, good tides, and fast swimming.
I get to bed around 9:45 and, surprisingly, sleep soundly. When I wake up, it’s dark in my room. I groggily look at the clock, and OH MY GOSH IT’S 4:05! IT’S ALMOST TIME! I lie under the covers until my alarm goes off, then leap out of bed. I feel wide awake with excitement.
Applying Desitin, aka diaper cream, to my back
I have 30 minutes to get myself together before leaving the house. Make coffee. Drink some of it and put the rest in a travel mug. Make the all-important peanut butter and fluff sandwich (aka fluffernutter) that has been my go-to on race mornings since 2012. Boil water to fill my 40 oz Thermos, because the water temperature in the Harbor dropped recently and I’m a little worried about that. Check again that I have my suit, cap, goggles. Don my new shirt that asserts “I’m actually a mermaid” and my Charles River Masters team parka.
I leave the house and drive to pick up Jen at 4:55. She is cheerful as always, and a calming presence. We drive to Winthrop, where the boat is docked, and I eat my sandwich on the way. We are still 15 minutes away when my dad texts that he is there. My boyfriend, Kyle, pulls in right after us. A marina member opens the gate and we go down to the boat to meet Chris, the pilot. Greg, the MOWSA observer, shows up and comments that I seem very awake. I’ve never been so alert at 5:30 a.m. in my life, and I’ve been awake at 5:30 a.m. many, many times.
We depart the dock for M Street Beach. I hand Jen my feed plan and give the crew a rundown of all the stuff in my huge feed bag. I pull on my suit, a blue and white Speedo endurance+ flyback. I chose it to be my open water suit for the season. (It’s got good juju; my 10k in July went really well.) We break out the Desitin and Kyle does the back of my body for me. I use ‘natural mineral baby sunscreen’ on my arms, face, and front because it’s 24% zinc oxide—not as concentrated as Desitin’s 40% and so much easier to wash off later, but the highest concentration I’ve found in actual sunscreen. I put one Mack’s ear plug, bought new yesterday, into each ear. I’ve chosen a USMS Fitness Series cap for today, because it’s gold. (#goldcapglory, as they say.) I’ve got my trusty open water goggles: dark, mirrored Swedes with a Smack Strap in my alma mater’s colors. We have to wipe off some sunscreen that’s too close to my eyes. I eat a Gu and drink Gatorade.
Jumping in
We get to the start early. Fran, a local swimmer and friend, is on the beach and we wave to him. The plan is to start at 6:15 a.m. to get the best tide timing. At 6:08 I jump off the boat and swim 100 yards or so to the beach. Fran takes some photos of me and we take a selfie together. I am thankful for the distraction of conversation as I fiddle with my goggles. Fran lets me use his shirt to dry around my eyes and wipe some stray sunscreen from the lens of my goggles. They yell from the boat that I can go whenever I’m ready, and I am ready right now. I wade into the water and go.
I’m swimming. The water feels cold. Not really cold, but colder than it has been and colder than I’ve been training in. It’s dark. I’m on the starboard side of the boat, so I’m in its shadow as the sun comes up. I have Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts” stuck in my head.
Kyle holds up the whiteboard saying that I’ve gone 2 miles in 39 minutes. That’s fast. The tide is strong, as promised. I do some math and realize that I might get to the lighthouse too early. I decide to stretch out and maybe slow down, just a little.
Second feed. Warmer than the first. That’s nice. I feel good. I’m already tired of looking at the side of the boat to my left, but at least the islands on my right are changing scenery.
We approach Long Island Bridge. I guess we are almost halfway to the Light. I think I might actually be able to do this! I still have that song stuck in my head. I try to get “High Hopes” by Panic! at the Disco going instead, but it doesn’t stick. I go back to “Truth Hurts” and think about parodying it. “I just got a DNA test, turns out I’m 100% that fish…”
Ahoy there, Whipper Snapper! (Also, check out that kick.)
I see a boat off to the right and think (correctly) that it might be the Whipper Snapper piloted by Dick Osterberg. The Osterbergs were my pilots for last year’s Boston Light Swim. Dick is wearing his yellow Pilot shirt. I wave to him as we go by.
I am bad at directions and don’t have a great idea of which islands are where. I think to myself, “what island is this,” and suddenly I’m singing “What isle is this, I’m swimming past…” and now I have “Greensleeves” stuck in my head. Super. Christmas in August! At the next feed, Jen tells me I’ve passed Rainsford, so I guess that’s what isle it was.
I decide I like Lizzo better than “Greensleeves” and switch back to the original song. This one will stick for the rest of the time despite one more Panic! at the Disco attempt (“Hey Look Ma, I Made It”). “This hurts but it’s pretty damn exciting, bom bom bi dom bi dum bum bay…”
At some point, one of the toes on my right foot feels frozen. I ask for warm water with the next feed. I try to pour it on my toe, and some on my head. It doesn’t really help, but it feels nice, and the toe recovers on its own as we swim through some warmer patches. I’m mildly concerned that I won’t make it if the water stays this cold the whole time.
Around 5 miles in, my left hip flexor starts hurting. This is expected; hip flexor tightness is pretty typical for me on long swims because I kick… a lot. When we are most of the way to the Light, my left shoulder flares up. It has been bothering me in practice, but usually not during freestyle, and never in open water. I had hoped it would last longer. I ask for ibuprofen and the next feed rope is impressively full of stuff. At this feed, I can see the Light around the bow of the boat. I say, “We’re almost there!” then amend my statement “… in about 40 minutes.”
I can see the lighthouse from here!
Standing on Little Brewster Island
Forty minutes is a good guess, actually. Shortly after the next feed I leave the boat’s shadow to swim to the Light on my own. The tide is so low that there is a sandy beach to land on! The water gets shallow and I try to stand up, but it’s rocky and there is a lot of slippery, leafy seaweed underfoot. So I lay back down and kind of slither up to the sand, then stand. 3:07:45. We didn’t get here too early. It’s 9:22 a.m., 8 minutes after low tide and 2 minutes before slack tide. Absolutely perfect. I take a minute to soak it in. I look at the lighthouse, the “Little Brewster Island” sign, the boat. I’m doing it! I say, “Let’s go!” and reenter the water. I swim back to the boat and we’re officially on the back half.
Kyle shows me the whiteboard, but I can’t read it because the sun is in my eyes. I have some trouble judging distance to the boat for a while because of the lighting. Later, I see that it was an awesome drawing of a lighthouse telling me the halfway time.
3:30 feed. I ask Jen to get in at the next feed to support swim, so I have a some time to look forward to it first. My shoulder hurts. The water is definitely warmer now on the way back, and I’m thankful for it. I’m also happy to feel the sun on me.
A ‘solo’ swim is truly a team effort.
Four hours in. Jen jumps off the boat and swims next to/slightly behind me. I’m immediately so much happier. She mentioned support swimming the other day, and I hadn’t really thought about it that much. I completely underestimated the impact it would have on my psyche. I speed up a bit and lengthen my stroke. I can see her to my right side. I ask my dad to take a picture of us swimming together.
Kyle shows me the whiteboard. 4:20, 11 miles. The next 10 minutes feel extremely long as I anticipate the feed. Another whiteboard. 4:43, 12 miles. 23 minutes for that one. Greg tells me the tide is picking up and pushing faster. That’s good!
Jen stays in with me for an hour and gets out just after we pass the Long Island Bridge again. I feel really positive that I’m going to make it. Kyle yells to me that Cindy says I’m doing great. And someone—I can’t hear who—will be at the finish in a neon pink shirt.
Om nom nom #feedme
Kyle shows me the whiteboard again. 5:08, 13 miles, with a killer Jason drawing, I think because of 13? That was a 25 minute mile. But anyway, only 3 miles to go! I’m pretty sure I will finish around 6:30. My body hurts, but I remind myself that I can swim 3 miles pretty much any time I want. I’ve got this.
5:30 feed. I tell them it’s almost hammer time, but not quite yet. The whiteboard appears again 5 minutes later. 14 miles. 27 mins for that mile. Hmm. I still think I can make it under 6:30, but I can’t really afford to slow down.
Jen gives me a thumbs up. Until now, I always responded with a thumbs up back. This time, I flip over instead and say, “I’m tired!” because I am. My left shoulder hurts with every stroke. My right triceps feel tight and my right wrist is weirdly tingly. I’m kicking more because I’ve still got that, at least. I’ve forgotten about my sore hip flexor entirely. I can see Boston. I have no doubt that I’m going to make it. It just sucks right now.
Last pizza mile!
6 hours. Last feed. Last mile. He’s drawn a piece of pizza on the whiteboard. Last pizza mile! Last pizza mile! We’re approaching the boat field. I can see the sand at the beach. I should make it under 6:30—faster than I thought!
We pass the mooring field and I sight the beach. Greg waves me on and I swim to the shore. I pick up the pace because I am so excited. There are a bunch of people sunbathing and a guy in the water off to the left. I am screaming underwater, “I DID IT! I DID IT!” I make land and turn around to face the boat and cheer. I can’t decide if I should sit down or stand up, so I end up just staggering around. I feel very conspicuous to all the beachgoers. I spot a person in a neon pink shirt—it’s Jess! She walks over to me and hugs me. I say, “I did it!” and I almost cry. I can’t even believe it. I did it. We take a victory selfie.
I did it!
VICTORY SELFIE!
I get back in the water and wiggle over to the boat. I climb on the swim platform. “6:18,” they say. Holy smokes! Poseidon delivered!
We motor back to Winthrop while I eat my celebratory chocolate bar. It’s all over, and I can hardly believe I just did that.
My time of 6:18:01 was a new course record for the Boston Light Double. The previous record, 7:07:10, was set by Elaine Howley & Greg O’Connor (my observer!) in 2010. Elaine & Greg were instrumental in the planning and execution of my swim and I am extremely grateful to them.
MOWSA Observer Log, page 1
MOWSA Observer Log, page 2
More Photos
