We made History!
- Jace Morgan
- Sep 22, 2025
- 5 min read
Dream Realized: 17 Miles later, One Lap Around Lake Wawasee
The night before the swim, my mind wouldn’t quit racing. I was terrified. Not nervous — terrified. Because I knew what was coming. I’ve been broken before in training, I’ve pushed myself past comfort into that dark place where your body and mind beg you to quit. And I knew I was about to go there again, only this time there was no escape. I had committed to something bigger than myself, and the entire town knew it. If I failed, I wouldn’t just let myself down — I’d let them all down too. And we would probably have to move to avoid the shame of failing to complete this monumental task lol.
4:30 a.m. rolled around and I gave up on sleep. I got up to set the live tracking (which failed as soon as I started swimming), schedule social posts, and steal quiet moments with my family. Everyone was nervous but they were all supportive and gave me positive energy. But in the back of my head, I was still worried about the weirdest things, like whether I’d have to poop in my wetsuit or what I would do if i had to go. That’s the kind of raw, human fear that sneaks in when you’re about to push beyond reason and go somewhere not many people have gone.
We made our final preparations and I slid into my XTERRA wetsuit at 7:00a.m. We gathered up the gear we needed and
headed off to the start point of the swim. When we pulled into the WACF, The staff had set up parking signs. My support crew were already moving around and the sheriff met us as we came up with a game plan for the day. The sun was climbing over the east side of the lake, spilling golden light across the reeds and wooden docks. The water looked calm, almost inviting — like it was daring me to try. For the first time in days, fear loosened its grip. Excitement took over. This was it. I was going to make history.
I thanked the many friends and family that joined us for the morning and zipped up my wetsuit, gave Rikki one last kiss, and slid off the dock into the lake. At 8:07 a.m., I took the first stroke of the longest swim of my life.
The first mile was adrenaline. My arms felt light, my breathing steady, my head buzzing. Every stroke was charged with nerves and excitement. I wasn’t thinking about 17 miles. I was thinking about making it out of that first stretch, proving to myself that I belonged in the water. My crew followed along side me and cheered me on as we excitedly made our way down the South Shore.
By mile three, I locked into a rhythm I’d never felt before. My body moved like it was built for this — strokes smooth, pulls strong, breathing even. I could hear the sound of my own breath in my head, the sharp slap of my foot breaking the surface every few kicks, and faint music drifting from the crew boat. Sometimes it felt like I was in two worlds — underwater silence one moment, faint laughter and voices above the next.
When I turned my head to breathe, I started to notice faces on docks. People had come out early to cheer, wave, and shout encouragement across the water. The sound carried. It filled me with energy. That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t just my swim. This was theirs too. For a day we all came together and we shared a special moment on the lake. History was being made.
Around mile seven, the rhythm shattered. The cold set in. My fingers wouldn’t close. My body started shivering. I couldn’t think of anything else. Fear started to slip in and grip me — what if I couldn’t warm up? What if I don't get this under control?
I lost chunks of time here. Whole miles blurred together because I was locked on one thought: I’m too cold. So I broke it down smaller. I swam buoy to buoy, pier to pier. Just get to that one. Then the next. Then the next. At this point I was suffering, pure unfiltered pain and agony. The buzz had worn off and the reality of the task at hand came crashing down on me. I knew it would happen somewhere out there, and here it was. Loud and unforgiving.
Johnson’s Bay nearly ended me. My body started to shut down. My heart rate dropped. My stomach rebelled. I was shaking so hard I could barely hold form.
This is where the crew saved me. My mom and her friends — Lori, and Peggy — sprinted back and forth to shore to bring hot bottles for me to sip and pour inside my suit. Perry supported my crew and appeared with hot water that we poured down my wetsuit Everyone moved like clockwork, like they had rehearsed for this. That bay was the breaking point. And because of them, I didn’t break. I am forever grateful to those of you who made this happen and I want you to know, WE made history as a community. Without all of you the dream would have sank in Johnson's Bay.
Originally, I thought the swim was 14 miles. So when I passed the mile 13 mark I knew the day just got longer. I still had several miles to go and I knew it was going to be a grind. But around mile 14-15, something shifted. I wasn’t done — but I knew I was going to finish. The Harbor Side Condos came into view, the same ones where I’d grown up with my best friend and boat captain, Ian. These were the waters I had trained in all summer. It felt like coming home. Every stroke was still a brutal, but now it was fueled by certainty.
The final mile felt like electricity. The harbor came alive with sirens, horns, megaphones. Boats surrounded me. The shore filled with people. When my feet finally touched bottom, I staggered upright, body destroyed, heart overflowing.
I spun in the water, raised my arms, and the roar was deafening. There were so many boats and people around me, I was overwhelmed with love and felt completely alive! The first eyes I locked onto were Rikki’s, kneeling at the dock. Logan had the camera rolling beside her. And Bre was behind them, holding a giant fathead cutout of my face, beaming with pride.
I stumbled out, raised my arms, and we all celebrated together. For that moment, the entire community was connected — hundreds of people cheering, honking, waving. We had done it. Together. WE MADE HISTORY!!
Reflection
The hardest miles were Johnson’s Bay. The most beautiful were the final miles surrounded by the community and my team as we made our way around Conklin Bay for my final strokes. But the truth is, every single mile taught me something: how to endure, how to fight, how to believe.
What I learned most is this: you don’t have to conquer the whole journey at once. You just have to get to the next buoy. One more step. One more stroke. That’s how you finish. That’s how you survive.
Beyond the Buoy
This blog is only the just the surface. I’m writing Beyond the Buoy — the unfiltered, mile-by-mile story of what really happened. The breakdowns. The training. The dark thoughts. The sacrifices from my crew and my family. The raw version of what it means to chase a dream until it hurts.
September 17, 2025 was one lap. Beyond the Buoy is the full journey. And I can’t wait to share it with you.
Check out the Book (Beyond The Buoy) and Lap The Lake Merch Now!!👇🏼
