600 K later..........

"It's a three to four-hour delay," the woman walking along the side of the highway said.  "Apparently a tractor trailer has overturned."  Great.  This was the scene just as we were arriving in Banff, after more than an hour on the road from Invermere, B.C., where I had done a 2K open-water swim this morning (more about that later). 

What a nightmare!  Daughter and I had just travelled more than a hundred kilometres in a hot car, with a not-quite-two-year-old in the baby seat and were stuck in a parking lot on the highway.  Heck, people were turning their engines off and hauling out the lawn chairs!  They apparently knew that when something happens on Hwy 63 from Radium Springs to Banff, you have no choice but to either settle in, or turn back.  We did the latter and drove all the way back to Radium, where we turned right and headed to.........wait for it..........Golden, B.C!  Golden is north about 110 klicks, then we had to turn right again and head back another 155 Ks south to Banff, bypassing the parking lot on 63, until we finally hooked up on the great Trans Canada #1 and made it home in only....eight.....hours! 

Six hundred Ks later, I finally hit the garage.  Whew!  By the way, the gas gauge in my dear little Honda Civic was just under half-empty.  Can you believe that!?  My little friend used only half a $40-ish tank to travel all that way!  Sorry about the exclamation points, but what other way can one describe such a dear, little loyal car.  Back to Radium.

When we stopped there for the second time and told the waitress of our hideous saga, she sagely said, "Oh, when they say three-to-four hours, it means overnight.   You were right to turn around and head for Golden."  A few others in the place were very grateful to have overheard.  We all headed for Golden. 

All this was after my 7 a.m. registration and 8 a.m. swim out into the middle of big, huge, scary Lake Windermere.  Have to say I was nervous -- no, make that a full-on anxiety attack.  Couldn't use the wet suit I had borrowed because it wasn't really a "wet suit".  It was an underwater dive suit that my daughter said would get waterlogged and become "a drowning machine".  Oh is that all!  So, I -- along with only two other teenagers -- did the swim in only a bathing suit.  Looking at everyone in their gleaming black suits, perfect goggles, masks and caps, I felt a tad intimidated, but the water was absolutely perfect.  Off I headed. 

Very shortly I found myself alone, the rest of the pack of 12-year-olds having taken off in a hurry.  Happily one of the spotter boats elected to stay with me.  "Thanks for hanging back with me," I called.  "No problem, take your time!"  I did.  Every time I looked at that god-forsaken orange buoy, it seemed to be moving farther away!  S-it!  Maybe that's the five-K marker, I speculated, stopping and treading water to focus.  But no, it was the one I had to reach before turning around and heading home.

That orange ball became my "Wilson".  Remember that stupid soccer ball Tom Hanks befriends in that dumb movie after his FedEx plane crashes?  I related.  I loved that buoy, then hated it.  When would I reach that jerk "Wilson"?  When I finally swam up to the dreaded florescent enemy I said, "Whew, it's over!"  But no!  Tempted to hang on, rest and relax for a while, I realized immediately I had to swim the whole effing way back!  At that point, "Wilson # 2" leering from the beach seemed completely unreachable; so did that huge annoying "Finish" banner, which I could not make out for a long, long time.

After what seemed an eternity, I actually reached the shore.  Staggering up, my equilibrium out-of-whack after being horizontal for so long, I stumbled through the sand to the finish line and handed in my chip.  Daughter was busily videoing my arrival, so will post that later.  I was very proud that she -- an uber athlete in her own right -- was so proud of her old Mum.  Yes, I was the oldest swimmer in the race.  Even got a prize for it! 

Truth be told, I am exaggerating for "literary effect" about how gruelling it was.  Actually, it was enjoyable because I didn't let myself get tired.  Switching strokes made all the difference and I had a great time out there, surrounded by beautiful mountains with the sun peeking up over them.  With the amount of swimming I do, I better be able to handle 2K!  But writing about it the way I have makes for a better read, don't you think?   

The whole thing was a dream -- or was that a nightmare -- which I will always remember.

Maybe next year..............??????