On July 15, 2021, I successfully swam the True Width of Lake Tahoe. After getting back into swimming to cope with the stress of working in healthcare during a global pandemic, I completed an Alcatraz crossing with Odyssey Open Water Swimming in October 2020. Immediately after that, I signed up to swim from the Golden Gate Bridge to the Bay Bridge in November 2020 with Pacific Open Water Swim Co. I was already completely hooked on open water swimming at that point, but I had yet to be introduced to the world of marathon swimming. I come from a pool sprinting background, so swimming anything longer than a 200-yard freestyle seemed obscene and unnecessary. However, I welcome new experiences, and tend to get incredibly intense (read: obsessive) with my interests.
My partner innocently asked me, “What’s marathon swimming?” on the drive home from the Bridge to Bridge. “I don’t know, where’d you hear that?” I replied. Deedee explained that after I jumped into the water and swam away from the boat, Captain Sylvia said something along the lines of, “Oh yeah, when are we going to get this one marathon swimming?” A few days later, I had an email in my inbox from Captain Sylvia with congratulations and a list of swims to consider next. I wondered what I was capable of, and how far I could push myself. The True Width of Lake Tahoe stood out to me, so we began corresponding via email about that swim. My birthday was one of the few dates she still had available, and that felt serendipitous. I put down a deposit before I could even wonder what I was getting myself into.
My partner and I decided to head up to the greater Lake Tahoe area 10 days before my swim so that I could acclimate to the altitude. We camped at a state park about 40 minutes south of the lake and passed the time hiking and floating in the nearby hot springs. Each day, we drove to a new swimming spot, including Donner Lake, Caples Lake, and multiple beaches on the southern portion of Lake Tahoe.
The day before my swim, I woke up early and went to Tahoe House for coffee and banana walnut muffins with my friend, Maddy and partner, Deedee. We sat outside on the patio in the sunshine, and I felt so unsettled that I could hardly eat. I texted my coach, Cat, when I got home. “I feel so anxious today, but I think I’m just excited. I don’t feel particularly worried about anything, I’m just feeling so unsettled!”
Her official coaching recommendation? CHILL. This energy was a good thing. It meant that I tapered well and was ready to go. Per her recommendation, I went to get a full body massage to let my body and mind relax. My mom arrived to the AirBnB soon after I got back from the massage, and my friend, Hailey, arrived about 30 minutes later. Hailey was going to join Deedee on the boat as my second crew person. Deedee would oversee my feeds, and Hailey would hop in the water to support swim with me for an hour sometime in the middle of my swim. I took some melatonin at 1930 and went to lay down at 2000, with an alarm set for 0300. At 0200, I suddenly woke up and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I stayed in bed until 0230 and then went downstairs to make breakfast. I prepared two servings of oatmeal and removed a boiled egg from the refrigerator. Because Maddy was sleeping downstairs on the couch, I ate outside on the porch in the pitch blackness. I was happy to have woken up early because it gave me some extra time to eat – it’s hard to choke down food when you’re anxious and it’s the middle of the night!
We packed up the car, did a final gear check, and then left for the 15-minute drive to Obexer’s Marina in Homewood, Ca. On the drive over, Hailey noticed that another woman would be attempting the True Width today. Her name was Alyssa and she was also from the Bay Area. I wondered if we would be able to see each other in the water during our swims. We parked the car and from the top of the boat ramp, we could see a small light illuminating the dock. We began walking down towards the water. I started feeling nervous once I could see Captain Sylvia and another woman in the boat waiting for us. Captain Sylvia gave me a big hug and introduced us to Katie, my official observer from the Lake Tahoe Open Water Swimming Association. As we were discussing the plan for the day and safety considerations for the swim, Captain Bryan, a pilot who works with Captain Sylvia, motored towards us. We waved hello to Alyssa and wished her well on her journey across the lake.
The swim start was about a 10-minute boat ride to the north of Obexer’s. I laid in the fetal position, trembling with anxiety, for the entire ride. I took deep breaths and tried to calm my nerves, but I couldn’t get myself to stop shaking. Deedee later told me that she was worried I wouldn’t even get out of the boat to start the swim because of how nervous I was. When we stopped at Cherry Street, Deedee slathered Desitin all over me while Captain Sylvia communicated with Bryan to determine whether Alyssa or I would jump first.
Before I could even really grasp that it was time to begin the swim, I was jumping into the water feet first and swimming towards the beach. During training, I had worried about the beginning of this swim and whether I would feel anxious swimming in the dark. I had done a few very early morning training swims, but I still wasn’t fully confident that I would be comfortable swimming in the dark in Lake Tahoe. This was some of the darkest water I had ever swam in, yet I somehow felt comforted by the lack of visual input. When I got up onto dry land (rocks, in this case), I thought to myself, “I’m just going for a little swim.” This phrase had brought me comfort many times during training. My greatest hope for the swim was that it would feel anticlimactic and that I could enjoy the experience without putting unnecessary pressure on myself to finish in a certain time. I wanted to avoid thinking, “I’ve got to make it to the other side,” and instead wanted to focus on swimming in the moment. I endeavored to enjoy the swim because of the swimming and to trust that I could safely allow my mind the space to let go of the stress, anxiety, and fear I had been holding onto.
While standing on shore, I didn’t have time to discern whether I felt cold before I saw a green light flash from the boat, letting me know I could re-enter the water and officially start my swim. I am a sprinter at heart, and I remembered Captain Sylvia telling me that inexperienced marathon swimmers tend to go out hard and then die towards the end of the swim. I did not want that to happen to me! When I re-entered the water in total darkness, I tried to keep my stroke rate lower than my regular 66. Instead of a quicker turnover, I focused on stretching out, maintaining an early catch, keeping my body close to the surface of the water, and finishing my pull strong.
The only thing alerting me to where I was relative to anything else were four yellow glowsticks attached to the starboard side of the boat. Remembering to stay in the moment, I flipped onto my back to take a quick look at the stars. “This is epic!” I exclaimed. It felt like only 30 seconds had passed, and somehow, we were already at my first feed. This one was liquid only, and I think only about 4oz as I took a large gulp from the feed bottle immediately before the swim began. Soon, it was first light, and I was beginning to see the expressions on my crew members faces.
Every so often, I would see Katie go to the back of the boat to take the water temperature before watching me to count my stroke rate. When I noticed this happening, it reminded me of the level of awareness you experience when you realize somebody is counting your respirations (this might not be relatable to all, but any of my nursing friends reading this will know what I mean). The water was a bit choppy – Captain Sylvia had noted that the wind was picking up when we were still at the marina. I could see the boat rocking a bit back and forth. Captain Sylvia was talking on the phone and I worried that my swim was going to be called off due to inclement weather. What is that choppy?! I remembered a stress dream I had a few nights before in which Captain Sylvia and I got into an argument because she wanted to pull me mid-swim and I didn’t want to get back into the boat. I decided to start breathing towards the right so I could ignore any signals from the boat that the swim couldn’t continue. Later, I realized that the water was not anywhere near tumultuous enough to end a swim, and this stress was born of inexperience and anxiety.
Deedee chose watermelon for my first Gu… my favorite flavor. The water seemed to calm a bit before again becoming choppy. At some point, I stopped to say, “It feels like the Bay in here, just warmer!” I was enjoying feeling the power of Lake Tahoe. I allowed the water to move me without getting frustrated that I didn’t have the absolutely perfect conditions I had been admiring in photos for the last few days. I thought to myself, “Conditions can always get better” and “It doesn’t matter what the water is doing, I am going to keep swimming regardless.” I was not overly concerned about anything and was truly enjoying myself. At somewhere around 1:30, Katie appeared on deck with a large inflatable great white shark! Captain Sylvia and I had been joking about this shark over texting a few days before my swim, and I had to stop and laugh when I saw it on board. I would later learn that Katie had spent 35-40 minutes blowing it up for me. How incredibly sweet was that!?
Deedee and crew asked me at every feed whether I wanted to change my goggles, but the clear ones weren’t bothering me, so I repeatedly declined. If it’s not broken, don’t fix it. I ended up swimming the entire 12 miles in my clear goggles, only later realizing that some of my photos were rather creepy with the whites of my eyes clearly visible. I was so calm, relaxed, and full of joy, and swimming felt effortless. There weren’t many thoughts crossing my mind, which was a welcome and unanticipated relief from my usual incessant ruminations. I would occasionally center myself on “joy, ease, lightness,” my meditative phrase for this swim, but I was able to easily stay present and attentive.
Hailey was supposed to get in at hour 3:30 and support swim me until hour 4:30. She was ready in her bathing suit at hour 3:00, eyes glued to me with laser focus. When my liquid-only feed arrived, confirming that we had arrived at the bottom of an hour, she didn’t get into the water. When I asked if we were at hour 3:30, nobody would give me a straight answer. This made me question whether my feed schedule was off or if I was somehow confused. I tried to not let my uncertainty bother me as I repeated my prior feeds in my head… liquid, liquid plus watermelon Gu, liquid, liquid plus birthday cake Gu, liquid, liquid plus fig bar, liquid. Yes, we had definitely arrived at hour 3:30, so why wasn’t Hailey getting into the water?
I tried to shift my focus to the calm, glassy, gorgeous water surrounding me, but with every extension of my left arm, I felt a sharp pain in the front of my shoulder. I could alleviate this a bit by shifting the timing of my breath and shortening my stroke, but I couldn’t get the pain to fully subside. Hailey jumped in to support swim at the beginning of hour 4. It was a bit hard to see her because she had to be positioned at or behind my hips to comply with Lake Tahoe Open Water Swim Association rules, and I didn’t want to breathe into my armpit and compromise my deteriorating stroke further to see her. I could clearly see my own reflection on the starboard side of the boat, so it oddly felt like I was support swimming with myself. In the distance, I could see Alyssa’s support vessel slightly ahead of us. I flipped on my back and asked Captain Sylvia to text Captain Bryan and have him tell Alyssa that she was doing a great job.
My lower back and hips started aching. The pain increased to the point that I stopped abruptly to report my discomfort. Hailey seemed worried and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?” Captain Sylvia instructed me to lay horizontally and squeeze my butt cheeks together for 5 seconds to reset the neural circuits in this area. I was thankful for how well this worked! I was totally losing focus at this point in the swim and was looking for any opportunity to stop and interact with my crew. I knew that this would ultimately make my swim longer, but in the moment, I couldn’t get myself to keep swimming. I began stopping in between feeds to quickly pee and receive some encouragement.
Hailey got out of the water, and I descended into a deep meditative focus. I became unaware of my surroundings until I took a breath to find that the boat was mere inches from my face. I absolutely panicked and began hyperventilating. Did I touch the boat? Is my swim over? I remember seeing Captain Sylvia fly out of her seat like it was on fire as I flipped on my back to try and calm myself down. I could hear her calling “Kerianne, Kerianne!” but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. After all this hard work, it was over.
I nervously made eye contact with Captain Sylvia. Instead of telling me I was disqualified, she gave me the most encouraging pep talk. I calmed down and was soon smiling again. She told me that I only had 1500 yards left and that she had full confidence I could swim 1500 more yards. I put my head down and told myself, “I only have to swim one more hour,” even though that is about twice the amount of time it would take me to swim 1500 yards. I reasoned that if I grossly overestimated the time I had left to swim, the beach would just sneak up on me.
This last part of the swim was more challenging than I ever could have anticipated. I wanted to stop at every stroke. Internally, there was a war going inside my mind and I felt like I was losing. I didn’t question whether I would make it to the beach, but I was grieving the loss of the care-free swimming of the earlier hours of this passage. I felt grueling to continue, and I wanted to want to swim again. Though I was struggling mentally, my body was feeling pretty good (save my left shoulder) and there was still gas in the tank. Stupidly, I broke the only rule that really mattered – never look at the other shore! I could make out the trees and felt so close to finishing though in reality, I was still pretty far from Nevada.
My stroke wasn’t feeling effortless like it was earlier, but it was working well enough. I swam for maybe 5 minutes before I started begging for a feed. “Keep swimming,” Captain Sylvia said. “You still have 11 minutes until your next feed.” I probably only swam for another 5 minutes before again begging for a feed. “Give me 50 strokes, and then you can feed,” said Captain Sylvia, gently. I took about 75 strokes before my feed arrived. Later, Deedee told me that Captain Sylvia was trying to get me to wait so that I wouldn’t need another feed. Intermittently, I lifted my head to see how much closer I was to shore. Katie stood up and held an orange flag to alert a nearby jet skier that there was a swimmer in the water. It was a bit choppy here with various watercraft zipping around enjoying a casual morning on the lake. If only they knew what I was up to!
I began having my first glimpses of the bottom of the lake, a moment I had been envisioning since my moment of panic. At first, I didn’t trust that I was really seeing the ground, but then I clearly visualized a white object, and then a thin pipe, and then the sand. The sand was entirely undisturbed by humans, beautifully whipped into peaks by the waves. “This is as far as I can go,” Captain Sylvia said before I passed the boat to finish the final stage of this journey alone. The slope of the beach was very gradual and it felt like it took forever to get to a place where I could stand. I was worried about how my legs would feel having to support the weight of my body again. When I stood up in knee deep water, I knew I had the energy to run up onto dry sand. I took a moment to look around before getting back into the water and swimming back to the boat. The whole thing totally felt surreal. I wondered where my mom and friends were, as I was expecting that they would be on the beach at the finish. I later learned that swim ends at a private beach that is inaccessible to the public.
I was welcomed with cheers (but no hugs because of the Desitin) when I arrived back to the boat. It was hard to believe that this swim I had spent so much time training for was suddenly over. When we got back to Obexer’s, my mom, aunt, and friends were waiting on the dock. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the hot tub and reading the sweet messages that were sent to me as I swam. I felt mostly fine physically, minus my left shoulder. I was hungry and seriously craving chicken tenders, but disinterested in actually eating. I was tired, but not able to sleep. We went for dinner and I was hardly able to stomach a few bites of food. It took me until 2330 to fall asleep, and I was wide awake at 0600 the next morning.
The morning after my swim, Deedee and I climbed up Eagle Rock. I had been curious about this hike our entire stay in Homewood and was looking forward to checking out the view of the lake from above. At the summit, I looked out across the lake towards Glenbrook in absolute and complete awe of what I had accomplished. HOW did I swim across that lake?! I seriously could not believe that it was possible for me to swim that far and feel as great as I did the day after. We met two women on the short hike who commented on it being amazing that I was hiking in sandals, to which I replied, “If you think that’s something, I swam across that lake yesterday!” They were so surprised and one of them told me I was her hero. After they walked away, we had the whole area to ourselves. I sat in silence at the top of Eagle Rock with immense gratitude for everyone who had supported me in this goal.
Kerianne Swims 