140.6 – The Swim (aka 1:22:08)
Photos: Vardo and I on our way down to the swim start (courtesy of Kristie); the swim start and 2500 of my closest kicking, fighting friends; chaos in the water; me coming out of the wetsuit peeling area (blocked by my mom's pom pom); me (to the left) coming off the helix and headed into T1.
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It’s funny—I’d heard stories upon stories about the mass swim start, but nothing—and I do mean nothing—could have prepared me for actually doing it. Yes, there was thrashing and splashing, and yes, there were lots of people trying to move in the same direction at the same time, but good God, there is NO way to explain the moment of panic when I realized that I really honestly could get the crap kicked out of me and that I, somehow, had to figure out how in the hell I was going to survive in that insanity. I swam the first 100 meters or so with my face out of the water—figured that was safest from a sighting perspective—and started navigating my way around (and, in a few cases, over) the people near me. The lake was really choppy due to the weather, too, and that wasn’t helping either—at least on the way out for the first loop, it was a little calmer, but add in the splashing from 2500 people kicking en masse and it might as well have been a typhoon.
For pretty much the whole length out to the first turn buoy, I was navigating around people left and right, and I also came to the conclusion that, in general, guys are NOT nice in the water. I’m used to swimming in wave starts with women, who, if you bump into them or they into you, will maneuver away to avoid additional contact. Guys, in general, don’t care and will do whatever it takes to keep moving forward, including swimming over me, grabbing me, kicking me, hitting me, and, in general, not playing nice with the other kids. About midway through the first length out, I took a heel in my right eye—thankfully, though, my goggles stayed put, although it hurt like hell. At that point, I started looking not so much at the next sighting buoy but at the feet around me—I figured I could sight periodically, too, but I was way more concerned about taking another inopportune kick to a body part.
Sadly, though, all of the advice I’d heard about staying 5-10 feet away from the turn buoy was apparently for naught at the first turn—my really crappy sighting abilities placed me right at the buoy and in the middle of a pack of people. So, as I turned the corner, I once again found myself fighting and kicking my way to freedom…or at least to the next space of open water. Along the way, though, someone grabbed my left calf and planted their thumb right smack dab over the still-painful scab from my little bike wipeout the weekend before…and it hurt like hell. I have no earthly idea how someone managed to have such premium placement over the exact spot of my scab, but I’ll chalk it up to the Ironman experience. After wanting to scream (but not as I didn’t want to inhale Lake Monona), I kept swimming to the next turn buoy—still fighting my way through the crowd, but at least this time I sighted well enough to steer clear of the turn buoy, which I managed to keep about 10-15 feet away from me.
As I turned the buoy and started the long straight section back to the starting area, though, the full brunt of the choppy water hit—the same waves that helped me get through the first straight “out” section kicked my butt on the straight “back” section. As soon as I turned the corner, I started bobbing up and down on the waves—if I couldn’t sight before (which I couldn’t), I was pretty much screwed. I bobbed along and tried to keep my body between the kayaks—I’m pretty sure if I added up my yardage I ended up swimming about twice as far on the back stretch, but such is life. At least I started finding a little more open water…although I still kept very very focused on any and all feet in my vision.
After fighting my way through the waves and wondering where in the hell the next turn buoy was, I finally got there, turned, and enjoyed the brief respite of the swim toward the beach before I turned again to start the second loop. As soon as I turned for the front stretch again, I could hear the cheers from the crowd at Monona Terrace—it was pretty wild to be in the water and be able to pick up on the noise of the crowd. It was great, though—I remember the second front stretch from my Masters’ swim a couple of weeks prior, and it was most definitely the roughest part of the swim mentally, so the cheers helped me stay focused and gave me something to look forward to once I got done. The front stretch went OK, and I even found myself with some open water.
The second back stretch was about as fun as the first one was, and I still couldn’t sight well—I pretty much fixed my sights on the Xterra wetsuit in front of me and hoped he wouldn’t get too much off track. But, the thought that I was almost done with the swim was enough to keep me engaged and moving happily along…and when I turned toward shore at the last turn buoy, I’m pretty sure I had a grin on my face under the water.
Before I knew it, I was at the shore and trying to stand up—that long in the water made me pretty wobbly, and the rocky surface didn’t help any (the rug covering the rocks helped a little, but yikes), but I managed to find my way upright and over the timing mat…one leg done, two to go!!
For pretty much the whole length out to the first turn buoy, I was navigating around people left and right, and I also came to the conclusion that, in general, guys are NOT nice in the water. I’m used to swimming in wave starts with women, who, if you bump into them or they into you, will maneuver away to avoid additional contact. Guys, in general, don’t care and will do whatever it takes to keep moving forward, including swimming over me, grabbing me, kicking me, hitting me, and, in general, not playing nice with the other kids. About midway through the first length out, I took a heel in my right eye—thankfully, though, my goggles stayed put, although it hurt like hell. At that point, I started looking not so much at the next sighting buoy but at the feet around me—I figured I could sight periodically, too, but I was way more concerned about taking another inopportune kick to a body part.
Sadly, though, all of the advice I’d heard about staying 5-10 feet away from the turn buoy was apparently for naught at the first turn—my really crappy sighting abilities placed me right at the buoy and in the middle of a pack of people. So, as I turned the corner, I once again found myself fighting and kicking my way to freedom…or at least to the next space of open water. Along the way, though, someone grabbed my left calf and planted their thumb right smack dab over the still-painful scab from my little bike wipeout the weekend before…and it hurt like hell. I have no earthly idea how someone managed to have such premium placement over the exact spot of my scab, but I’ll chalk it up to the Ironman experience. After wanting to scream (but not as I didn’t want to inhale Lake Monona), I kept swimming to the next turn buoy—still fighting my way through the crowd, but at least this time I sighted well enough to steer clear of the turn buoy, which I managed to keep about 10-15 feet away from me.
As I turned the buoy and started the long straight section back to the starting area, though, the full brunt of the choppy water hit—the same waves that helped me get through the first straight “out” section kicked my butt on the straight “back” section. As soon as I turned the corner, I started bobbing up and down on the waves—if I couldn’t sight before (which I couldn’t), I was pretty much screwed. I bobbed along and tried to keep my body between the kayaks—I’m pretty sure if I added up my yardage I ended up swimming about twice as far on the back stretch, but such is life. At least I started finding a little more open water…although I still kept very very focused on any and all feet in my vision.
After fighting my way through the waves and wondering where in the hell the next turn buoy was, I finally got there, turned, and enjoyed the brief respite of the swim toward the beach before I turned again to start the second loop. As soon as I turned for the front stretch again, I could hear the cheers from the crowd at Monona Terrace—it was pretty wild to be in the water and be able to pick up on the noise of the crowd. It was great, though—I remember the second front stretch from my Masters’ swim a couple of weeks prior, and it was most definitely the roughest part of the swim mentally, so the cheers helped me stay focused and gave me something to look forward to once I got done. The front stretch went OK, and I even found myself with some open water.
The second back stretch was about as fun as the first one was, and I still couldn’t sight well—I pretty much fixed my sights on the Xterra wetsuit in front of me and hoped he wouldn’t get too much off track. But, the thought that I was almost done with the swim was enough to keep me engaged and moving happily along…and when I turned toward shore at the last turn buoy, I’m pretty sure I had a grin on my face under the water.
Before I knew it, I was at the shore and trying to stand up—that long in the water made me pretty wobbly, and the rocky surface didn’t help any (the rug covering the rocks helped a little, but yikes), but I managed to find my way upright and over the timing mat…one leg done, two to go!!
posted by roehr @ 1:33 PM
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