jgalswims

To me mates,

As a lot of you know, a really good friend of mine passed away last weekend. Arthur Dunne was only 42, yet he lived every day to its fullest, something I tend to do part-time, it seems. I met Arthur through sea swimming, and as you can tell, sea swimming has drastically and positively changed my life. Arthur was a central figure in sea swimming here in Ireland. He was the life of the sport, and his mere appearance at the races made the day full of laughter and lots of good craic.

Recently, Arthur became an even closer friend of mine. We spent many a night with on the lash with all the sea swimming and water polo crowd. Because of Arthur, I've met many dear friends I would never have met had Arthur not introduced us. (Vinny, Philip, and countless others I now know and love thanks to Arthur). Arthur never ceased to invite me into town for a few drinks (as we all know!), and while I was with him he always ensured I was having a good time and basically felt loved. This meant so much to me, because Arthur was friends with so many people, yet he always made sure to include me as well. He's a true gem, and his kindness, love and spirit will never be forgotten. If you've met Arthur, you know what I'm talking about. :)

On the last night I saw him, we were going in for a Leinster open water meeting. I was turning my car around to parallel park it, and Arthur blazed in and nicked the spot I was going to take. I rolled down my window to give out to him, and he laughed and roared, 'You always gotta be ready to act in this life Julieann!' In hindsight, it was probably the perfect message for him to send to me. When life gives us opportunities to act, we must do so, or we could miss the opportunity altogether. Thank you, Arthur. (Even though you nicked my spot). ;)

I want to thank all of you out there who have sent me messages of support and helped me through this tough time. It truly means so much to me. Arthur always cared for the well-being of others, and I hope through his legacy that I can learn to be more like him in that respect. You guys are great friends, and I am blessed to have such amazing people in my life. Thank you again for everything. See you soon.

Much love,

jgal

I had a goal of 10 minutes for my sea swim last Sunday. The week before, I lasted no more than 5 minutes. It was time to up the ante and push my limits. I arrived at the swim nervous and cold; my hands had that numbing, cold, dead feel to them, and my feet weren't much better. Whatever, I sighed, no excuses, time to perform.

The mood was sombre. Our good friend, Arthur Dunne, passed away the day before. On a side note, Arthur was a legend in sea swimming. He is one of two people in Irish swimming ever to win both 'majors': the Harbour and the Liffey swims. He was also a waterpolo player. I was crushed when I found out he had died, and the sea only reminded me of all the good times we had shared over the summers. Life is short; you must make the most of it. Let's go swim.

The tide was high. The waves were crashing into the rocks. How do they withstand such force? More important, how will I? Whatever. Stop doubting and get in! I put my cap and goggles on and ran to the ladder. The waves were gushing water over the top, instantly freezing my feet. Today was not a day to mickey mouse my way into the sea; yep, time to fly. I jumped full-throttle into the sea. My eyes looked underwater at the mixture of salt and sand granules, swirling amongst the racket. Brr. I always fling my arms like a maniac when I first get in the sea, no matter what the temperature. My legs gunned it for Wales. Like Nemo, just keep swimming. It was cold, but duh. At least I was ready for it. In any case, I always think that I'm at an advantage if I ever get in a plane crash or fall into a river or something...at least my survival rate will go up. Don't look at the clock, ok fine, hmm, 1 minute 22 seconds. Woof. I have to swim five minutes away from the ladder, then, naturally, five minutes back. I can do it. It's not that cold. Ha! Already my feet are nonexistent, as in, I can't feel them at all. The hands were diminishing as well. Again, it's fine. It's what I do. I'm mad. I know. But I'm not the only one in the sea right now, so it's a collective madness. I mean, what if I was out here alone? Now that would be mad. 3:48. Alright! Only 1:12 and I can turn back! The waves were sloshing me around, it's ok, sea, I know you're in control here. 4:58, 4:59, 5:00 TURN AROUND!

At this point the numbness worked its way up to my entire limbs. Gone was the feeling in my legs and arms. I think they were moving, well, obviously they were moving, because I got back to the ladder, but who really knows for sure... Now I'm not going to exaggerate here, but my brain started to hurt. As in, I actually felt my brain, inside my skull, and it was so cold that it hurt. Not my memory or my cerebral cortex...my BRAIN. I pondered this as I swam on... I think so much in life, but how often have I thought of the actual thing that allows me to think? Hmm...interesting. WHERE IS THE LADDER. I have to stop at this point, because I cannot see out of my goggles. I forgot, as always, to put in the anti-fog. There are just some things I am absolutely incapable of doing. So I get my bearings, and muster a laugh in the deep area of my soul. I mean, how many people at this very moment are dabbling in the irish sea...a mere 6 degrees of warmth to offer? (hey, it's 2 degrees warmer than the air.) My mind is going and I know it. I am flirting once again with hypothermia. Focus. 2+2 is four. F-O-U-R. Frog Orange Umbrella Red. Hip Hip Hooray. 8:10. I am so close, yet so far. I had been swimming slower because I was moving with the tide and didn't want to misjudge my approach at the famous ladder. But, as I was still a ways away, I started to swim faster. At least my dwindling mind told me I was swimming faster. I began to panic at this point, mostly because I felt my body was shutting down and I could not breathe. Just keep swimming. mmm imagine that hot shower waiting for me at home. And those gorgeous, savoury cups of tea. And the layers of covers on my bed. And the beautiful heat emitted from my beautiful German car. And of course, the assortment of biccy's. It was all there for me beyond the ladder.

I arrived at 10:15...beyond my goal. I had to wait a few extra dreadful seconds to grab the ladder on a wave...and then wait a few more waves to get out safely. My body fully emerged at 10:33, a new record. (Well, for 6 degrees, that is.) My legs shifted one after the other to my sandals. I could not move my big and second toes to get into the slits, so I had to bend over, try not to fall onto the concrete, and open them myself. I hustled over the rocks to my towel. Ironically, it was warmer out of the water in the wind. Typical. I slopped on my clothes whilst guzzling tea and making an attempt at soup in a mug. (Never again). I looked back at the water. In my world, another week of borderline hypothermia equals another week of success. I will recover, I think to myself. I always do.

And I did.

jgal

p.s. next week the goal is 15...