That sounds like fun, I said to myself. Jeff threw me the side-eye and let it go.

That afternoon, during beach bocce ball I inquired about the swim. I found out that it was two and a quarter miles– the length of the Ironman swim. Oh, well. That’s not gonna happen.

I did, however, arrange to relay with another girl, taking turns swimming and paddleboarding to La Manzanilla. And several support dinghies would row alongside the group, in case anybody bailed.

The morning of the swim I put on my bright green lycra body skin (for warmth and protection from creepy things in the sea),and put my swim goggles and fins in the dinghy, for when it was my turn to swim.

I started on the paddle board but within five minutes, I was bored. I looked for my relay mate, but she was already far ahead.

Screw this, I said. I say that a lot. It sometimes lands me in hot water. This time it landed me in cool water, stroking my strokes to try and catch up with at least someone in the group. One of the following dinghies dragged the empty paddleboard behind as Jeff and Chance the dog came alongside and offered me encouragement.

As I swam, I felt my exposed areas (hands,neck and face) getting tiny stings. My dollar-store goggles were completely scratched and fogged so I grabbed my mask and snorkel out of the dinghy.

Shit! There were millions thousands a lot of jellyfish surrounding me! Big, box-y ones, long, skinny ones, quarter-sized ones and teeny-tiny ones. Jellyfish everywhere!!!

Looking ahead toward shore, I still had like, 200 miles to go. Screw this. I started to bail.

But I was energized! I forced myself forward.

Keeping my head down, I regulated my breathing. Each time I looked up the shore seemed no closer.

C’mon baby, just a little farther, Jeff encouraged me.

My body started to ache. The resistance from my fins was a foreign sensation, and my thighs were straining to continue. My shoulders (arthritis-wrought) no longer cooperated with my demands, and I breast-stroked and baby-kicked myself onward. The shore eluded me. I slowed to a crawl. Did I mention I’m not a swimmer?

Chance barked.

I swam.

Not quite two hours later, I felt the delicious sensation of sand beneath my feet. I wanted to fall in the surf and not move. I wanted to run on the shore and do cartwheels (but I don’t know how.) Instead, I ambled out of the surf to greet my cheerleaders, Jeff and Chance, and the rest of the swimmers.