The Great Sydney Swim 2013 on Australia Day: closing in on the boofy blokes and the great diet challenge

After The Great Sydney Swim in Sydney Harbour Mr Mild Mannered, Mr Very Big and I went for a coffee at a cafe in The Rocks, which featured a display of cakes and pastries in the window.

Over two apple strudels - Mr Very Big had ice cream with his - the two revealed they'd recently been dieting. Is that irony?

They also discovered, having scoffed down the calorie-laden pastries quicker than my dog can lick clean a 350g yoghurt container, they were almost the same weight.

Mr VB is 105 kilograms and Mr MM 106 (it might be zee other way round but vhat iz a kilo between strudels?).

Mr Very Big then had a bright idea - he and Mr Mild Mannered would make a bet to see who could get to his goal weight first and the loser (and this was my bright idea) would take the winner and his spouse out to dinner at a nice restaurant. The details of the challenge have yet to be confirmed.

Turn the clock back to the end of the swim - a 2.2km hike from the Man O War Steps at the Opera House and back.

Usually Mr MM leaves Mr VB and me in his wake. He's a powerful graceful swimmer.

But today something strange happened. As I finished the swim and queued to climb up one of the two ladders to get back on to the pontoon, I noticed Mr MM just ahead of me. I couldn't believe it. What was he doing there? He usually cruises past me like a sleek ocean liner overtaking a rust-bucket fishing trawler.

Mr VB was just as shocked. He finished 9 seconds ahead of Mr MM.

Mr MM made excuses for this anomaly. But at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what went wrong in the water.

There was not a lot of seconds between the three of us. For once we were almost equals. I finished 16 seconds behind Mr VB and 7 seconds after Mr MM.

I got the feeling Mr MM wasn't too comfortable when Mr VB likened us to a tight little triangle! God, it's a hoot.

This year the main swim attracted 517 participants. Again, women are under represented at 179.

The day was beautiful and the Sydney Opera House shone like mother of pearl in the morning sun. Major excavations are taking place to build an underground loading dock but The House rose above the construction site, solid and serene.

My friends and I parked ourselves under a shady tree before the start and all was well with what is usually a very messy world.

Back left: Mr MM and Mr VB. All bets are on.

The swim requires punters to jump into the harbour for a water start. I've done this same course on many occasions (it's also run in March by a different organisation) so I'm used to putting myself out there as shark bait.

Still, it can be unnerving when you consider that last year around 17 tagged bullsharks were roaming around the harbour on Australia Day. Better not to think about it. BLOCK IT OUT. DENIAL.

Today, the organisers decided to lump the 40+ age group of men and women in together. The water churned and boiled with swimmers. I had no time to think about ravenous indiscriminate bull sharks because I was so worried about getting kicked in the head by a testosterone-fuelled bloke in budgy smugglers.

At the starter horn the biffo ensued, as I knew it would. A couple of hundred swimmers thundered across to Mrs Macquarie's Chair in Farm Cove and seemed to arrive at the first can at the same time. I got thumped a couple of times. I shut my mouth around every can to save my teeth.

During the swim I found the time to look back over my shoulder at the Harbour Bridge, flags stiff in the breeze, and those sexy flying nuns pissing in the harbour.

After the first can, we bolted up to the end of Farm Cove, where we hung a right and swam across to another can to take another right.

I first spotted Mr VB after passing the OpenAir Cinema Screen. He paced me and threw out that charming Irish smile I'd sometimes like to wipe off his mug. But not today. I handled the pressure well and had no trouble sticking with him.

I only lost him near the end when I went off course (the usual) and, as Mr VB said, "started swimming towards Kirribilli". Goodness knows what I might have achieved had I stayed on course.

I might have walloped Mr MM - that's a satisfying thought.

Score out of 10: 7.5
Each participant got a goody bag that included a towel and a pair of thongs/flip flops. I love free stuff. The water was served in paper cups - a big pat on the back to organisers for that. 

Any gripes: 1. Four portable loos for around 800 swimmers (there were two shorter events that boosted numbers). It doesn't work. I got in and out before they deteriorated into a major health hazard.

2. See complaint (in main story) about chucking everyone aged 40 and over in together at the start.

3. Some punters complained about the placement of the buoys/cans - apparently some missed the final can, which significantly shortened the swim.

4. We got the goody bags so there's no use complaining about a lack of fruit!

5. The commentator with the sand-paper voice did my head in. I bet he's the loudest bloke at the barbecue after a few cold ones. And he kept calling everyone "buddy". Whatever happened to good old "mate"? Americans say buddy and we say mate. I think I'll have to dedicate a post to this word creeping into the vernacular. It's bad enough that 4WDs have become SUVs and mobiles have turned into cell phones. RANT RANT RANT.

North Bondi Roughwater Ocean Swim 2013: a tale of leaky goggles, self doubt and a discourse on sharks

1. Fine sand: Between my toes. The sand at Bondi is so much finer and paler than northern beaches' sand. It's beautiful to walk on. And today wasn't so hot that it burned your toes (like last week at Newport - ouch ouch ouch). I dug my tootsies in and relished the massage.

I made sure I got to Bondi at a reasonable time, around 8.45am, because I'd registered for both the 1km and the 2km swim. This is the first time this season that I've attempted the two swims in the one event. I'd held off doing two because of the babble that goes on in my head that tells me I can't do it.

2. Self doubt: Today was the day. Why worry, you ask? I am not a contender. But the mind can be either friend or foe.

My mind said, Why can't I breathe properly? My chest is tight. I'm tired. Maybe it's a heart attack? Or stroke? Oh, god, I don't want to spend the rest of my possibly shortened life in an electric wheelchair, like the man who lives up the road and goes to the petrol station with his dog every day to get the paper with no expression on his face because he can't do expressions anymore... Blah blah blah...  

EXPLODE!

Then my feet touched the sand, I sniffed the seabreeze like a dog with its head hanging out the car window, saw the gentle surf.

My mind said, Breathe. It'll be OK. I can do this. What on earth is wrong with me? Am I a crazy person or what? 

A big crowd had already assembled on the beach. I can't count but we're looking at around 900 swimmers? Dunno. Went to my squad tent, small-talked the peeps, kitted up, drank water.

3. Leaky goggles: My well-travelled well-heeled sister recently took a tour of France and bought me a pair of flash Italian goggles, especially designed for open water swimming. I wore them last week at Newport and experienced slight leakage in the right goggle. Today, as soon as I dived into the water for the 1km, they filled with water. During the swim, I emptied them four times.

I felt so disheartened because I had to stop on each occasion - a no no in ocean swimming where every second counts. Then I saw a familiar face. It was Shark Man (so named because of the shark tattooed on his back).

He swam at the same pace as me so, because I couldn't see anything much and my eyes were stinging from the salt, I decided to stick with him. Frustratingly, I kept drifting away from him and had to claw my way back.

I found it hard to see the cans. They were the small pointy types, which I don't like at all. There was some wavy motion out the back of the shore break so it was very up and down. There were four turning cans. Anyway, I'd lost my mojo by the end of the swim. Back on the beach I met up with Shark Man who told me I kept drifting off course.

Despondent, I walked back up the beach and bumped into my lovely Heron Island Friends and the gorgeous Lady from Lawson, who often wins prizes in the old ducks' age group (my age group). I borrowed a pair of goggles from Mr Smith of the Smiths of Newtown.

I went into the 2km swim wondering if it was worth the effort. I'd tucked the goggle straps inside my cap because they were loose. I had no trouble getting out through the surf because my wave of swimmers went off in between sets.

Initially, my head played up and my body didn't want to swim. Have you ever had that experience?

My head said to my body, Why can't you swim faster than this? Everyone is getting away from you? What is wrong with you body? You are totally worn out and overused. What is that arm doing? For crying out loud, give me a break!  

The goggles filled and I almost turned back. But then something miraculous happened and my body started obeying the instructions from my head. My head decided not to worry about the goggles. My arm decided to go in to the water in one smooth motion.

I know what happened. I started to relax!

From then on, it was all a bit of fun. I swam all the way out out out to Mackenzie's Point and spotted Mr Very Big. We had a laugh (still swimming of course - never ever stop if you can help it) and he tried to pull away but I had enough energy and some in reserve. Where the frig did that come from?

I think I teetered up the sand about 30 seconds after him. I could have gone faster, if I'd really pushed it. I'm serious.

4. A discourse on sharks: Afterwards Mr Very Big, The Lawmaker and I strolled along Warners Avenue and bought takeaway coffees from Organic Republic Bakery. Noice.

We sat on the brick wall of the block of home units next door and the conversation turned, as it invariably does when you talk about ocean swimming, to sharks.

Just lately both Mr Very Big and I have had encounters with sharks at Cabbage Tree bay in Manly. My Very Big claims the shark he spotted "doing its own thing" was easily 1.5 metres long and greyish blue and mottled browns. The shark I saw that same day has now grown to over a metre long - but it was just grey. Not being Irish, I'm unable to bring my stories to life with such lyrical clarity.

The Lawmaker is a font of information. He can talk under wet cement and bombarded us with his factual knowledge of the bull shark population of Sydney Harbour.

In a nutshell: they're out there.

Next week it's back up north to hot coarse sand and local hospitality at Mona Vale.

Rating out of 10: 9
Lots of water safety. Lots of fruit - the generous Harris Farm family is now supplying the eastern suburbs' swims. The presentations got underway in quicksmart time - a gold star for that.

Any gripes: North Bondi should invest in big orange cylindrical cans. If the swell had been bigger there's no way anyone could spot the cans - even lifting and looking.

PS: After a hellish week where temperatures reached 40+, it's raining with the works. Rumbling thunder and flashes of lightning.