The judge methodically counts down the last ten seconds of oxygen I will have for the foreseeable future. As I float on my back in the tepid Caribbean waters, my thoughts empty, and my lungs fill with as much air as possible. As she approaches zero and yells “Official top”, I roll over and duck-dive into the water, searching for a National Record in freediving.
Freediving is all about anxiety. Better said, it is all about being free of anxiety. The first time I submersed myself, the natural urge to want to come to the surface, to breathe, was overwhelming. Through practice, I became comfortable with the depths, with not breathing. I trained my muscles to work without oxygen and my body to forget the feelings of carbon dioxide building up.
As I kick past 50 feet down, the air in my lungs compresses to less than half its initial density. No longer enough to make me float, I begin the free fall. Perfect stillness, gliding further down into the ocean as I conserve energy for the return trip. This is the most enjoyable part of the dive, eyes closed, falling.
At your greatest moment in freediving, you forget where you are. I liken it to the feeling of when we are just falling asleep. We still have consciousness of being awake, but we lose our sense of time. To find this state is to find peace, and peace is what you need to be able to go deeper than you have ever gone and make it back.
As I reach 130 feet down my dive alarm beeps, signaling me to open my eyes. I see a plate with Velcro tags attached to it. One of these tags will be my proof to the judges that I completed my dive. In one swift movement, I grab a tag, turn myself around, and begin strong kicks to the surface. I am now fighting gravity, as my body on its own will continue sinking lower into the ocean.
In freediving it is important to do each movement correctly, to not rush. You must never hurry yourself. The urge to want to breathe can lead to panic, can lead to quicker movements, which rather than getting you where you want to go, leave you with not enough oxygen to make it.
As I return through 50 feet, I feel my lungs expanding. My mouth is closed as I conserve air and my lungs feel like balloons about to pop as the air reaches its initial density. I can now kick slower, barely at all. My body is floating to the surface, naturally helping me along for these last seconds. I see the first of three sets of safety divers come into vision.
The last 30 feet of a dive are where a blackout is most likely to occur. Shallow water blackout is the official term. As the air in our bodies reaches sea level and we use up the last bits of oxygen we have left, the likelihood of blacking out increases. A blackout in itself is not life-threatening, if you have someone to quickly pull you to the surface. Safety divers are the unsung heroes of any freediving competition.
I drift up the final feet, my head breaks through the water, and I grab hold of the line. Large breath in, shallow out, and another in. I remove my nose clip and goggles, continuing to breathe and steady myself. I look for the judge, raise my hand in the OK sign, and say “I am OK”. She stares at me for what seems like forever, ensuring that I am in control of my body and not in danger of blacking out. She asks if I have a Velcro tag. I show her the tag and see her flash a White Card, signaling a successful dive. I have just completed my first National Record dive for Panama.