Maybe I Should Take Up Poker Instead of Triathlons

Swimming in the ocean is hard. Humans really weren’t built for it. Sure, staying afloat isn’t difficult, but making any kind of steady progress toward where you want to go is almost totally up to the sea, especially if you’re swimming away from shore. This part of the Atlantic is mild compared to most of the rest of the world, but getting out past these itty bitty four foot breakers is frickin’ hard. I can imagine what the Pacific in Hawaii is going to be like when I do the Ironman. I’m glad I’m failing on something easy so I know just how far I have to go, I think. Another problem I’m having is that the waves stir up a bunch of sand and sediment so I can’t see anything, even with goggles. I suppose I have to swim about fifty meters off shore to where the water is a clear green instead of a murky brown, but that’s what’s called “open ocean” where drowning moves from a possibility to a likelihood. Mostly because the ocean floor is about forty feet deep, but there’s also the danger of… oh what are those things called… I’m drawing a blank… oh yeah, sharks. I’ve talked to more than one sailor who flies in the big HS-60 helicopters that patrol the coast, and each one has talked about how there are schools of sharks right behind the surfers, and how none of these sailors will ever get in the ocean unless ordered to. But no guts no glory, and supposedly sharks don’t attack human swimmers because human swimmers don’t swim like seals or fish. I guess there’s no challenge in it. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel to them. I say no guts no glory now, but earlier today something brushed against my leg while I was swimming in the shallows and I got out of the water as quickly as I could, then stayed out for at least half an hour because I was sure that whatever bumped my leg was some kind of sea monster and it was waiting for me to get back in. Do they still make shark repellent?