If you bite, sting or infect brains, stay away from my open water swim please!

I tried to make myself unappetizing.

Took off all my jewelry, including my diamond ring.

Swapped my normally bright gear for a monotone suit.

Ran out to CVS to buy nail polish remover and stripped the iridescent nail polish off my toenails.

I was as ready as I thought I could be for my first ocean open water swim: nothing shiny. Nothing that might flicker or catch light underwater.

Nothing to make me look like I might be delicious to eat.

…

About four months ago, I added open water swimming (OWS) to my swimming routine.

My very first OWS was the Banana River behind the Cocoa Beach Aquatic Center. It was a test swim for me ― could I even do it?

The murky water meant I couldn’t see much of anything swimming under or near me, which was perfectly OK. Everything looked greenish-brown. The bubbles from my own strokes startled me. The entire swim I imagined an alligator rising up from beneath, chomping me and spinning me in a death roll.

All 15 minutes of that swim felt just shy of terrifying: too alligator-y, too swamp-like.

Next up for me: swimming regularly in the Indian River at Rotary Park with a group of amazing women athletes.

That, I like better. We wade out across the sandy bottom, dragging our feet in the stingray shuffle. Most evenings, the wind picks up and white-capped waves roll in, but I got used to the bumpy swim, trying to perfect my bilateral breathing to avoid a mouthful of salty water.

That stretch of the Indian River doesn't feel like I'm swimming in a swamp.

I still startle, sometimes, when my hand sweeps through seagrass or brushes up against the smooth side of what I assume is a stingray. And, yes, we ended a swim early when we found ourselves too near a pair of jellyfish.

It does cross my mind that we are in a bull shark nursery and I hope never to see a shark baby much less its momma.

But mostly I enjoy the swims.

Still when the opportunity arose to swim in a freshwater lake near Orlando, I was eager: nothing can hurt me, I thought. But then I noticed the host wearing a nose clip and remembered those sad stories journalists write every year about the brain-eating amoeba occasionally found in warm Florida waters.

The swim was great, but for the next five days (I read that incubation is usually in five days), I panicked every time I got a headache or felt more tired than normal. My google search history was awful.

Frustratingly, I began to wonder if I'm the kind of person who will summon a threat in any open water experience. But determined to NOT be that person, I signed up for an open water swim camp.

As I drove to Paradise Beach for my first swim, images of great whites with their bloody-toothed mouths popped into my head. I tried not to imagine what I would do if I saw a fin much less a toothy grin.

The two-note iconic John Williams theme from "Jaws" ― Dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun played on repeat in my mind.

And then as I looked out over the water with the rest of my fellow swimmers, it wasn’t sharks that spooked me: it was waves.

“It looks really rough,” I said.

The wind had picked up and white-tipped waves rolled in, one after another after another. Maybe 3- or 4-feet. They looked big and intimidating and never-ending.

I wanted glassy and calm.

“It’s a little bumpy,” our coach said.

I felt like a newbie skier who got off the chairlift and ended up accidentally at the edge of a diamond mogul run when I’d been expecting a green/beginner trail.

In the end, the waves were too much and my session came to a quick stop. My second attempt went better, and the third even better. I swam nearly a full mile in perfect conditions, enjoying the buoyancy of salt water and marveling at the rising sun glistening off the water.

I let the magic of swimming engulf me: pushing aside concerns over what toothy or stinging creature might be sharing the experience with me. I'm not going to take stupid chances. But nor am I going to let the 1 in 4.3 million chance of dying in a fatal shark attack keep me out of the water.

Swimming in the open water forces me to live in that moment, to think about and appreciate what my body is doing. It's so deeply meditative that I forget if I’m an air-breathing or a water-breathing being for a bit.

Just as long as I'm not a delectable meal, I'm good.

Important Note: I always open water swim with others and wear a swim buoy. Swimming is fun but make sure you swim safely.

Executive Editor Mara Bellaby can be reached at [email protected].

This article originally appeared on Florida Today: Open water swimming is magical. No sharks, gators or rays welcome