How I Overcame My Fear of Open Water

Ten years of bodysurfing and six years of triathlon. I've swum in the Atlantic, the Mediterranean, Canadian glacial lakes. And yet — the first time I put my head in a lake in a wetsuit for an open water training session, my heart started pounding out of control. Fear doesn't discriminate by experience. It chooses its moments.

Why Ten Years in the Ocean Didn't Prepare Me

Bodysurf taught me to read waves, to float, to surrender to water's power. The ocean and I have an understanding built over a decade. But triathlon open water is different — it's deliberate distance swimming in deep, still water with no shore break to orient you, no waves to read, and no exit strategy except your own arms. I wasn't afraid of water. I was afraid of committing to it on its terms, not mine.

"Ten years in the surf taught me to dance with waves. Open water asked me to walk alone into silence — and that was harder."

Understanding the Real Fear

For me, the fear wasn't depth — I've dived below waves in 6-metre swells without blinking. It was control. In bodysurf, I can always turn and ride back to shore. In open water swimming, you commit to the crossing. The moment you're 300 metres from shore, the shore is equally far in every direction. That loss of an easy exit — that's what my nervous system rebelled against.

Understanding the precise nature of your fear is the first real step. Not fear of water. Not fear of swimming. Fear of a specific scenario: being far out, alone, without options. Once I named it, I could work on it directly.

Step 1 — Bring Your Ocean Skills Into the Lake

My bodysurf background gave me one massive advantage: I'm comfortable horizontal in water, I know how to breathe rhythmically, and I don't panic when my face goes under. I leaned into this. For my first open water sessions, I didn't try to swim laps — I floated. I turned on my back. I did the thing a surfer knows how to do: exist calmly in water without fighting it.

If you have a water sport background, honour it. Your body already knows how to be in water. The fear is about context, not capability.

Step 2 — The Safety Net That Changed Everything

I bought a bright orange swim buoy before my second open water session. In bodysurf, you don't carry flotation — you are your own flotation device. The buoy felt like admitting weakness. It wasn't. It was smart race preparation and, more practically, it gave my nervous system permission to relax. Knowing I could stop, grab the buoy, and breathe for thirty seconds changed everything. I used it exactly twice before I forgot it was there.

Step 3 — Never Go Alone, Especially at First

A decade in the surf means I've always had eyes on me — other surfers, lifeguards, people on shore. Transferring that principle to open water training was instinctive. My first six open water sessions, I had a training partner kayaking alongside me. Not because I needed rescue — because fear is a threat-detection system, and proximity of help recalibrates it. Remove the threat, and the fear recedes. My partner had to do nothing. Their presence did everything.

Step 4 — Box Breathing Before Every Entry

In bodysurf, you learn to control your breath before a big wave holds you down. Same physiology applies here. Before every open water entry, I do three rounds of box breathing: 4 seconds in, 4 seconds hold, 4 seconds out, 4 seconds hold. This directly activates the parasympathetic nervous system, slows the heart rate, and tells your body: this is not an emergency. It takes 36 seconds. It is the most effective thing I do.

"The ocean taught me breath control for survival. The lake taught me I could use the same tool for courage."

Step 5 — The First 100 Metres Are Always the Hardest

In triathlon, the swim start is the most chaotic, adrenaline-spiked moment of the race. Arms everywhere, cold water, hyperventilation risk. After ten seasons in the surf, I know that the first plunge is always the worst — the body's shock response fires, and then it passes. I applied this knowledge deliberately: the first 100 metres, I swim conservatively, breathe on every stroke cycle, sight every 6 strokes. By 200 metres, I'm in my rhythm. By 400 metres, the open water feels like home.

Where I Am Now

Six months after my first terrified lake entry, I completed a 750m open water triathlon swim and genuinely enjoyed it. A year after that, 1500m felt like a morning warm-up. The fear didn't vanish — I learned to swim alongside it, the way I learned to read a wave set: with patience, attention, and the knowledge that the ocean, and the lake, have always let me through.

If you're standing on the shore right now, heart racing, wetsuit on, telling yourself you can't do this — you can. The body knows more than the fear does. Get in the water.