Holy S&^$ I can't believe I did that!

I'm back from the fabulous tropical island of Roatan, Honduras, and confidence is extremely high. It's not; however, a result of conquering my mini goal. My mini goal of conserving oxygen was not accomplished. At all. I hoarded O2. I hoarded O2 like it was my job. Like I was the last surviving human on Earth, I sucked back that O2 like a chocolate milkshake. You know why? Here's why:

1) Excitability: I enjoy being excited underwater. I decided to embrace it. Why would I inhibit myself under the water? Our super awesome and chill Dive Master, Rick, totally dug it. I'm sure he absolutely loved it when every single time I was low on 02, I shrieked, "Rick!!!!" (remember, we are underwater - it was such a soothing sound).
2) Spontaneous Talking: You know what? There's just things that need to be said underwater. Why would I hold all those good things in? It was quite important, for example, that as I showed the angelfish his replica (my tattoo on my ankle) I explained, "See, I have a tattoo of you on my ankle. You are so cool." That's worth extra O2 use right there.

3) Flipper - yes, I like to flap my arms when I dive. Does it result in extra O2 consumption? Probably. Do I feel at one with the marine life? You bet. Worth it.

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So, I completely tossed the mini goal of decreasing O2 consumption and enjoyed the dives. The reason that my confidence is high and I'm walking with a cocky little strut right now is that...
I was totally peer pressured into participating in the..dun dun dun...SHARK DIVE.

The thought of diving with sharks was the most terrifying thing that I could possibly even imagine. Dive Master Rick described the dive to us as this chill, calming wonderful once-in-a-lifetime experience. All I could picture was a panic attack. The panic attack is not a stranger to me. Completely high strung, Type A my whole life, I experienced my first panic attack in my first year university. I was in the College of Agriculture. I did not belong there. I remember sifting through dirt during "Soil Science" (aka: dirt class) and feeling completely lost. While my classmates marvelled at the loam content, I disgustingly picked dirt off my hands and thought, "ew...dirt." I went home, contemplated my future as a dirt scientist and had my first panic attack. Unable to catch my breath, I hyperventilated myself to the point of tears. It was horrible. So as I pictured myself at 70 feet, surrounded by sharks, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I would do if attacked by the panic. As Lawyer's husband and Ev described the once-in-a-lifetime shark dive, I quickly scanned my brain for legitimate excuses. "It's not biologically responsible to dive with sharks!" I shouted. Enter Marine Biology student Julie from the Dive shop. She explained that of all the shark dives out there, this was actually the most "responsible" dive. There was no throwing of food into sharks mouths, prodding sharks, chumming the water, etc. My excuses were out. I was in.

The night before the dive, I lay restless in my hotel bed. While most vacationers were dreaming of white sand beach and margaritas, I was envisioning each and every disastrous scenario that could occur during the dive. At 3am, Ev rolled over and inquired if there was anything he could do to help me calm down. Not one to ever overdramatize, I bravely stated that this was an internal battle that I needed to conquer. He quickly fell asleep, snoring contentedly.

The next morning, stomach in knots, heart rate excessively high, we made our way to the location of the shark dive. Waihuka Adventure Diving has been offering this shark dive for 8 years. Apparently, it took these local men 2 years to "train" the sharks. Beginning with simply feeding the sharks via boat and then gradually introducing the sharks to people, (wouldn't want to be part of that experiment) these black-tipped reef sharks are now classically conditioned to arrive at this particular spot as soon as they hear the roar of the boat's engine. Treat time! It's exactly like when we open a can of tuna and Biloxi, the cat, comes running. Exactly the same. Except that Biloxi's teeth can't slice through human flesh like a razorblade.

pre-dive: 10 fingers

my internal battle documented.

Prior to heading out on the boat, our Dive Master prepared us for the dive with handy little diagrams on a whiteboard. Listening like my life depended on it (which it did), I did not take my eyes off of his drawings. It looked simple enough. Follow a rope 70 feet down, put your back against the coral wall, watch the sharks, he gives the signal, swim with sharks. Ya right. Probably gonna skip that whole "swimming" with sharks part. The dive site was called, "Cara a Cara." I quickly scanned my brain for the Spanish language - I knew it was a body part....ear to ear? knee to knee? Shit, what did Cara mean??? Oh. Right. Face to face. Fitting. Holy shit.

As our boat with 14 thrill seeking divers entered the dive site, my adrenaline took over. I was doing this. There was no turning back. I attempted to spit in my mask (clears it) and was horrified to find that I no longer produced saliva. Holy shit. Gear on, I threw myself overboard, grabbed the rope and began my descent (with Ev right behind me - wait a minute - why did he send me down first???) As I climbed down the rope, 70 feet beneath the surface, I gazed into the blue abyss below - and then spotted them. There were 3 or 4 figures circling the rope near the bottom. Yep, those are sharks. Holy shit.

We entered our depth of 70 feet and placed our backs against a coral wall. The sharks circled a mere foot in front of us, awaiting their treat. Suddenly, I inhaled deeply and began to...well, actually fricken enjoy myself. This was freaking awesome! I was watching thirteen 6-12 foot sharks. They swam by me, wanting nothing to do with me. Angelfish and grouper swam amongst them. They even had little buddies on their bellies and backs (remora fish). The sharks were cool. They were calm. I bet those sharks never suffer from panic attacks ("Ack!!!! There's a blonde Canadian. Oh my god, Finny, I can't breathe!")

C'mon Finny, let's get out of here. The Canadians look hungry.

The Dive Master signaled that it was time to swim with the sharks. I didn't hesitate. I was super pumped. No fear. It was gone. I swam around with 13 sharks circling around. The giant grouper (the sharks #1 fan) was a totally hilarious fish. He loved the people. Like a puppy, he rolled over and let divers scratch his belly. He actually came straight for my face with his giant prehistoric lips, I swerved, and he kissed my cheek. True story. It was just amazing. As I watched the show of sharks, the grouper, the angelfish, and the divers, I couldn't help but think that these sharks are seriously misunderstood. You know what? Sharks have a bad rap for no good reason. So occasionally they mistake a surfer for a seal - is it their fault their vision sucks? Sharks are like dolphins. Dolphins with super sharp teeth. It's no big deal. I love sharks! Save the sharks! Ok, ok, I'm out of control now...

After watching the sharks battle for their fish head treat, snapping some unreal photographs, and constantly flashing each other the "OK!" sign with regulator-filled grins, we headed toward the surface. It was over. It was amazing. It was an experience I will never forget. It was the scariest, most exhilarating thing that I've ever done. It felt damn good. And then I drank myself silly on margaritas.

Lawyer and I hug it out

post dive: all limbs intact

drink until i forget.

now THAT'S scary