Grand Intentions

If you read my last post, you know that I spent the past few days in Michigan with my kiddos visiting Mama J.  As we left town on Monday, I had grand intentions of getting up early every day to swim in Lake Michigan to ensure that I’ll be a pro for the open water swim at Racine.  However, intentions are what we make of them.  Due to an arrival time of 4am (Thanks to Diet Mountain Dew and Jason Mraz), I didn’t manage to crawl out of bed until about 10am on Tuesday, which I still thought was fairly respectable.  The kids had slept the entire drive, so they were up early and ready to go.  Grandma hauled them all off to the beach to let me keep sleeping.  That was the day that swimming in the lake would have been ideal…I repeat, would have.  There was a haze in the air and the water was like glass.  But sadly, I let the opportunity slip away.

On Wednesday morning, I went off for a long-ish run down the lake road that I love so much.  I didn’t intend to go far, but I felt good, and that road has the capability of drawing me farther and farther along, so I let it.  Running out of water on a humid day, meant it was a good time to call it quits.  I considered jumping in the lake for a quick swim, but I got back to the homefront later than I planned, my mom had somewhere to be and the wind was really picking up, so I decided to wait thinking the next day might be better.

By Thursday, the wind was whipping and the waves were rolling.  Fun to play in, but swim?  Not so much.  Ugh.  What to do?  I really wanted to post this blog and brag about my impressive feats, like saying I had managed a full mile, or two even, in the open water waves.  But, Alas, I cannot.

So, let’s talk about highlights of the week.  Tuesday night we swung by Nancy’s and grabbed milkshakes to take with us to the beach for a fantastically amazing show of a sunset.  We lucked out with that one, because earlier in the day it stormed and we weren’t sure we’d see the sun again.  But New Buffalo came through for us, the clouds moved on by and we got our sunset.

We pretty much started and ended the trip at the best burger joint in the world.  Redamak’s.  A Jacobs tradition since 1975, give or take.  I had my usual. Both times.

But here’s my biggest highlight…walking on the beach with my kiddos.  On Wednesday, Ethan crashed on the couch right as I was offering a walk to anyone who wanted to go.  Ally and Silas were my takers, Ma offered to stay with Ethan.  So, picture this…LJ strolling down the beach, looking like a total hoosh (For my non-St. Louis friends, that’s short for Hoosier, which is the equivalent to Kirksville’s “cricker” or in Michigan we go with straight up “white trash”).  Yeah, so, I’m meandering down the beach in my cut-off jeans that I’ve had since college (literally) and a wife beater style tank.  In classic Lindsey fashion, a visor covered my hair, which had gone unwashed for a few days.  Random side note: The other day I got a text from Diana declaring that she had gone almost a full week.  Dang!  She broke my record.  Now the challenge is on!  I’m pretty sure I’ve got this in the bag since if you’ve known me for more than say, 5 minutes, you know how I put off washing my hair.  And this new messy hair look that’s in, just go ahead and ask me how much I love that?!  I can rock a pony-tail or a messy bun like nobody’s business.  Throwing on a visor earns me at least another couple days, right?

Ok, back on topic…so cruising down the beach, looking really classy.  We were picking up beach glass and cool rocks.  Silas had a collection of odds and ends, mostly sticks.  Just as we got back to the public beach, I stopped and faced the water.  I held my arms out like I was flying and closed my eyes.  Ally asked me what I was doing.  I said, “I’m feeling the wind”.  I stood there, eyes still closed, listening to the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls calling.  Feeling the spray of the waves, the sand between my toes, the sun on my cheeks and just feeling the wind.  Feeling the wind reminds me to enjoy being alive.  It reminds me to feel everything.  The good, the bad, and everything in between.  This is kinda like that thing I do when I run down hills with my eyes closed, but not as likely to send me to the ER.

Fast forward to Thursday, another walk on the beach, this time all 5 of us.  The kids knew I planned to swim and they really wanted to see me get out there.  I wasn’t sure it was going to happen, so we were talking about it.  Silas asked why I wasn’t swimming.  I was whining about how cold it would be, and being afraid because the waves were so big, and blah, blah, blah.  I grew up swimming in Lake Michigan, so when did I turn into such a wuss?  Silas kept at it.  I mentioned something about fear of the unknown.  And then he reminded me of the time I swam out to try and retrieve a raft that had blown into the lake.  As we sat in our beach chairs, some woman approached us and said, “Umm, isn’t that your raft out there?”  I looked from her, to the raft, to my brother and simply asked, “You or me?”  I shouldn’t have asked.  I lost.  I swam out, way out; so far that my kids freaked because they couldn’t see me so they sent Uncle Adam out on the boogie board to get me.  I made a valiant effort.  I went about halfway to Chicago (ok, not really) only to give up on the $2 raft that definitely wasn’t worth my life.  So, swimming in Lake Michigan wasn’t really the unknown, but it was still a little scary because now I should know what I’m doing, even though I’m not convinced I do.  The unknown part actually has more to do with what lies ahead in Racine.  But, I’ve faced the unknown enough in the past years that I know I’m brave enough to do it.

When we returned from our walk, I stripped off my t-shirt and shorts, grabbed my goggles and Garmin and set out into the waves.  The temperature was surprisingly perfect.  The waves, on the other hand, were ultra-ridiculous.  I set off toward a buoy. Just as I would start to get into a rhythm, a wave would splash me in the face and send me gasping for air.  I regained my composure, I can do this.  A few more strokes, I’ve got this. Practice sighting, wave in the face, choking on water.  And so it went.  Swim, breathe, swim, gasp, swim, coughing fit.  I managed a whole, whopping…wait for it…quarter of a mile.  That’s all.  3 days at the beach with a half Ironman coming up and that’s all I’ve got.  Weak.  But, in my defense, the yellow flags were up and we saw the rescue team out, so it’s probably better that I made the smart choice and called it quits.

I guess what it comes down to is this…Intentions are good, they give us purpose, they give us something to shoot for.  But, whether it’s sports or life, we need to keep in mind that even with the best intentions, things won’t always work out the way we’ve planned and there could be something else in store.  Sometimes, you have to know when to suck it up and be courageous (sometimes you have to know when to be safe and smart) and sometimes it’s ok to just stop and feel the wind.

As we enter into the final week leading up to Racine, I don’t have any delusions that I’m gonna rock out some outstanding time next Sunday. I’m really just hoping to cross the finish line within the 8.5 hours allowed to make it official, claim my medal and then slap that 70.3 sticker on the back of the Pathfinder.  I’m going to spend the weekend with my friends and attempt something amazing.  My only intentions are to be courageous and to remember to feel the wind.  I think those intentions are realistic, but they’re also pretty grand.

Yep, I still like to write my name in the sand

Yep, I still like to write my name in the sand

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