Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 131, June 2020 June 2020 | Page 48

Mom and I at
Blouberg, Cape Town
Piggybacking
on Tammy at
Clifton 4th
Beach
I found my own space in the water, I settled into a
comfortable rhythm with my strokes and breathing,
and completed the loop back to the beach. The
lifeguard handed over my sticks, and with frozen
hands, I awkwardly tried to maintain my balance while
“crutching” through the ankle-slapping waves.
Shanet and I after a SCUBA
dive to feed Stingrays
The experienced scared me, but also left my family
concerned, especially since they all live in different
parts of the country. The reality and vulnerability in
living alone hit me, too. That saw my mom get on
a plane from Durban to visit and assist me for two
weeks. I cannot remember the last time I had seen
her! She helped with so much of the cleaning, feeding
the dogs and some other basics that were simply too
exhausting for me to do. Above all, I am grateful for
the debilitating back spasm that scared the life out of
everyone, as it motivated my mom’s visit.
Lesson #25 Just keep swimming
Other than the incredibly patient and supportive people
in my life, one of the most significant contributors to
my recovery was swimming. Pre-injury, I already spent
pretty much all day, every day in the water, from diving
at work, to diving in the sea, to doing the occasional
training swim (in between the excessive running).
Swimming was the only activity that I was allowed to
do while in recovery, to keep my cardio fitness up and
maintain a little bit of the muscle in the dormant leg.
I started off quite slowly, but my pace soon increased
substantially and I had the urge for another challenge.
I had done most of my open water swimming in Cape
Town at Fish Hoek beach, but this was limited to good
weather days when the Shark Spotters’ exclusion
net was out. The net provides a barrier keeping water
users safe from sharks, but with the added advantage
in that it does not catch or kill marine life.
With the summer South-Easter making False Bay
messy for swimming, Tammy and I started testing out
the waters of Clifton, on the Atlantic Seaboard side of
Cape Town. Every swim was the same, but different,
and although we checked the weather reports before
our swims, we were never sure what the ocean
would provide. Temperatures varied on a scale from
refreshing to hypothermia, while visibility ranged from
crystal clear to pea soup. I suppose this is part of the
wonder, magic and mystery that the ocean holds…
when you dive into the sea, you never know what
you’re going to get, and you have to accept the risk
and vulnerability that comes with that.
Tammy and I routinely visited Clifton, braving its
Leigh in
her water
element
with
sharks
unpredictable waters a few times a week, using it as
an excuse and escape from responsibility and reality.
The drive along the Atlantic Seaboard stretch is
nothing short of spectacular, and each mini road-trip
was fuelled by bad sing-alongs to country music,
caffeine-infused, sugar-free energy drinks, and
dramatic rants about our respective lives.
We would change into our wetsuits in the car and then
make our way down the steps at Clifton 1st Beach,
where I would leave my crutches with the trusty
bathroom keeper. For every swim we did, Tammy would
navigate rocks, waves and swell, ‘piggy-backing’ me
into waist-deep water to be released. We would swim
for as long as we could bear the cold, usually between
1.5km and 3km, and then I’d launch myself back on to
her back to be transported to my walking assists.
This must have been hilarious to watch for anybody
who witnessed this series of events, as each occasion
consisted of various stumbles, wobbles and falls, with
obscene commentary to match. The X-Files theme
music would be appropriate for setting the scene of
us emerging from the deep. Ridiculous as we are,
and as hilarious as each of these episodes was, after
every swim, life did not seem so terrible anymore and
we were ready to face its challenges, at least for a
little while, before the next swimming escape.
I duly entered my first open water swimming race in
Cape Town on New Year’s Day. I woke up with a minor
hangover, but thankfully the swim only started at noon,
so I had the morning to recover. I met Mikki on the
beach and registered to take on a one mile (1.6km)
swim. Since I knew the distance would not be too
difficult for me, I decided to swim without a wetsuit, to
spice things up (and freeze things off). The water was
14 degrees Celsius that day, so not too bad. We started
the race at the back of the pack, as I was unsure of
what to expect, and did not want to get in the way. I left
my crutches with a lifeguard on the beach and hopped
onto Mikki’s back as she transported me into the sea,
like an awkward ninja turtle.
The first 500m was spent with feet of all shapes and
sizes fluttering under my nose, as I weaved through
a frenzy of flapping armpits and floating bums. When
There was a group of applauding spectators ahead,
with camera phones rolling, waiting in anticipation
for this creature emerging from the sea to provide
material for the next YouTube “fail compilation” video.
Thankfully, I did not fall. So, with pride (but without
grace), I moved along the beach and the applause
got louder when I was given a bright pink hulahoop.
Initially, I thought that this was some kind of
‘sympathy and shame’ award, but I had unexpectedly
raced through the aqua-pack to win the women’s
‘Skins’ category. I was greeted with the most amazing
compliments from strangers, including words like
“respect,” “inspired” and “insane.”
Besides the list of lessons, deep perspective and
mountains of gratitude, this injury reignited my love for
being in the water. From the gym’s pool at a toasty 28
degrees Celsius, to the ocean’s nippy nine degrees,
the water was the one place where my hip felt no
pain, my mind was cleansed of stress, and although
my body was often reduced to an icicle (compliments
of the South Atlantic), my soul was on fire.
For any athlete, injuries are literally a pain. It is
important to remember, however, that it could always
be worse. There are people enduring a lot more
suffering, and doing so with a smile. I know I still have
a long way to go in my recovery, and that I will have
to start from the bottom and build my way back up
to the top of that mountain again. But this time, with
respect, patience, gratitude and love for my body.
1st day of
2020, 1st
race, 1st
place
About the Author
This piece originally appeared in Leigh’s blog, the Running Shark, at https://leighdenecker.wordpress.com. Leigh has always been drawn
to nature and animals, with an intolerable fear and fascination with sharks, which drove her to become a marine biologist. She currently works
at the V&A Aquarium in Cape Town. As a youngster she trained as an elite artistic gymnast, which instilled in her a lifelong love (and mild
obsession) with physical exercise, eventually leading to her becoming a marathon runner on the road and an ultra-trail mountain runner, as well
as an open water ocean swimmer. In her blogs, she delves into her passion for the oceans, animals, mountains, fitness and adventure, and
discusses how she uses physical training as spiritual, mental and emotional therapy.
Images: Mikaela Rijkmans & Courtesy Leigh De Necker
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ISSUE 131 JUNE 2020 / www.modernathlete.co.za