All photos by Sacred Harbor Photography
An eight mile swim across Boston Harbor seems like a great way to return to New England.
I entered the lottery on a lark. I wasn’t sure if I should move back to New England. Nearly fifteen years had passed since my parents drove me to Washington, and I never felt drawn back. Still, I needed to do something with my professional life and going to school was the right move. Dartmouth was the most interesting option I had, but I still wasn’t convinced.
If I get into the Boston Light swim, I’ll take it as a sign that I’m meant to move back to New England.
I get an email from the BLS race director. Looks like I’m going to Dartmouth.
Soon after I committed to moving back east, the race organizers decided to cancel the swim due to covid. I’m glad they had the foresight to cancel so early because I was able to spend the summer moving and enjoying a long cross country drive, rather than frantically searching for open water on the road every day. I didn’t succeed in swimming back to New England, but that’s life.
Once I arrived in Vermont I hopped in the Connecticut River for the first time in my life. Seventeen years of living on that river and I had never so much as dipped a toe in it. It felt like bathwater. I struggled to swim. I’ve been out of the water for nearly two months moving and traveling, I must have forgotten how to swim in that time. I went to the beach and miraculously remembered how to swim. Turns out I had become reliant on the buoyancy of salt water. I vowed to relearn how to swim properly.
I swam alone in the river and local ponds until Thanksgiving. The water was still warm enough for a short swim, but swimming in the cold without any friends is depressing. Floating in the river I grew up on, I felt homesick for San Francisco Bay.
I joined a pool for the first time in nearly a decade. I relearned how to kick when I swim. I improved my balance in the water so I don’t sink. I got faster. Most importantly, I made new friends. My heart may be somewhere deep in the ocean, but this winter in the pool made me appreciate the concrete box with the black lines.
After Easter I waded back into the pond. It took a week or so to build up the endurance to swim a mile straight. I questioned all my pool training. If I can’t even swim a mile, how am I going to swim across Boston Harbor? But the endurance came back, and after a few weeks I was doing three and four mile swims.
I’ve spent my entire adult life as an expatriated Bay Stater, so other people have always associated me with Boston. People assume you grew up spending weekends at Fenway Park and you pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd. But I’m not from Boston. The only memory I have of Boston is fleeing it after the bombing. I left the marathon course and headed for the first northbound train. Running away is my history with the city. The idea of swimming to Boston in the cold bouncy water that feels like home, and being greeted with open arms as everyone cheers from the beach, that’s a kinder, friendlier side of the city that I didn’t know.
I felt strong for the whole swim, but as I counted my feeds, I knew something was going on. I wasn’t expecting to be in the water anywhere close to the five hour cutoff, but each time I was tossed more food I knew I was twenty minutes closer to that five hour cutoff.
“After you eat this brownie, you need to haul ass.” I didn’t know how far the finish was but I knew I needed to move.
I did as instructed, and picked up the pace. This time I sprinted towards the city.
Stroke, breathe left: my crew is cheering me on.
Stroke, breathe right: the race official boat, not pulling me, but also not leaving my side.
The water rushed against my scalp, giving me a little reprieve from the heat. Shit, my cap is coming off, but I couldn’t stop because I didn’t know how much time I had. Stroke, recover, stroke, recover, try to pull my cap back to my forehead, stroke, recover, stroke, recover.
Eventually I got close enough that I knew it would be more work to pull me out of the water than to let me finish on my own, but I still had no idea if I was under the cutoff. I was clueless how I even got this close to the cutoff. I felt strong early on, and I was swimming really well right now. What happened in the middle?
As I neared the beach I didn’t want to get out of the water. I was overheating, but I knew the finish was on land, so I got vertical and stumbled to shore. I pulled the goggles from my eyes and was blinded by the midday sun. The goggles stayed on.
Someone threw a lei and finisher medal around my neck: four hours and fifty six minutes!
I stumbled back into the water, trying to keep my finisher’s medal above water. I had been irrationally nervous about the cold water temperatures. I knew the start could be in the mid 50s, and I hadn’t been able to find cold water all summer. My inability to find cold water should have been an indication that this swim would be warmer than usual. The multiple 90F+ days before the swim virtually guaranteed this was not going to be a cold swim. I sat in the 70F water at M Street Beach trying to cool off, knowing that I made the right decision to come back to New England to study climate science.
My goal for this swim was to finish. I didn’t think it’d be such a nail biter, but that’s the unpredictability of open water swimming. Going into the swim my plan was to be well rested, well fed, and trust my training. I now know that I have a solid five hour effort in me which is an hour longer than I thought I had. I felt strong at the finish, and confident that I could have kept going if necessary. I also realized that years of consistent cold water swimming (50-60F) is sufficient to carry me through what should have been a cold swim, despite not having much access to cold water this past year. I also realized that with climate change, cold water swims are going to be harder to find.
The Boston Light Swim started in 1907, and I hope it continues for a long time. This is a different side of Boston that most people never experience. It is very well organized, and safety is taken seriously by both the race directors and swimmers. This year we saw nearly perfect conditions for a fast swim. The community supporting BLS was so welcoming and helpful; it made this landlocked beach bum feel at home again. If anyone reading got this far and is curious about trying BLS someday, feel free to reach out!
FAQs
How long is the swim?
8 miles. It started at Little Brewster Island and ended at M Street Beach in South Boston.
You say the water was warm? How warm are we talking?
It was mid-60s at the start, about five degrees warmer at the finish. This is about ten degrees warmer than it typically is.
How did you navigate?
I had a pilot boat with me. I made sure I was about ten feet away from the boat, and the boat navigated. If the boat turned, I turned with it.
Did you have any help?
Yes! My captain, Ronnie, navigated and made sure I didn’t get run over by another boat, and my crew, Sam, Daniella, and my dad, kept me fed and hydrated. Additionally, the race official boats, harbormaster, and Coast Guard were all out in the harbor making sure boaters knew there were swimmers in the water.
Didn’t you get hungry?
No, but only because my wonderful crew did such a good job feeding me! I had half a gel and a swallow of water every twenty minutes. Sometimes my crew, Daniella and Sam, would toss me an oreo. At my last feed they gave me a brownie. My water bottle was tied to a rope, and we had a screw top tupperware container that was also attached to the rope. Food and trash went in the tupperware. I can’t eat a full gel in one feeding, so I would stuff the half eaten gel in my suit, and finish it at the next feeding.
Why are you covered in diaper cream and vaseline?
Desitin is 40% zinc oxide, and water resistant. This makes it an ideal choice for sun protection on long swims. If you’ve seen me, you know how white I am and how easily I burn. This was a very sunny swim, and I didn’t get burned at all. That’s the highest praise I can give to a sun protection product.
How do you have such amazing photos? Weren’t you focused on swimming?
One of my crew, Daniella, is an amazing photographer. You can see more of her work on social media at @sacredharborphoto or her website.
