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"Surviving the swim at my first sprint (A comedy
of errors)" - Jon's Story
As an avid
windsurfer, I’ve spent countless hours in the ocean including some
pretty hairy conditions; a hurricane in the outer banks of North
Carolina, 4 months of getting manhandled in the Maui north shore
waves and 65 mile an hour winds in Costa Rica (it was so windy that
day they had to shut down the windmills!) So it might be surprising
that staring out at the perfectly calm water of Craigville beach at
5 minutes of 7, the morning of June 9, 2001 had me sweating like a
freshman on the first day of high school. Just at that moment, I
was snapped out of my fear induced trance when I heard my name being
called. Amazing to me that a high school classmate who I had not
seen in several years could pick me out of a crowd of 900
triathletes wearing a wetsuit, goggles and the requisite white
swimming cap given to all competitors. I later realized that he
must have recognized me by the scared look on my face, the same I
had back when we met in 1984 on the first day of high school.
My nerves settled a bit catching up with my old buddy and for a
moment I forgot about the quarter mile swim ahead. But as soon as
the gun went off my fear and adrenaline took over, leaving my brain
back on the beach. My first mistake in that triathlon was panic. I
had trained in the pool but not at all in open water and having
never done a triathlon before I didn’t get a chance to step back and
realize that a quarter mile swim in calm waters was something I
could handle, at least physically. As the group of racers stampeded
into the water, I took two steps in and belly flopped down into a
swim position. As I paddled my hands deep into the sand the only
thought in my mind was why are all these people still standing;
while at the same time I’m sure each of the 899 other athletes were
thinking why is this jackass trying to swim in 3 inches of water. I
eventually dredged my way out into deep enough water but my
adrenaline was still in charge as I slapped furiously at the water.
After several hundred
yards I finally picked my head for the first time not to see another
swimmer in sight. “Could I really be out in front of the pack?” I
thought. Before I could answer this rhetorical question I saw, out
of the corner of my eye, several hundred swimmers about 50 yards
back and to my right. In my swimming fury, I hadn’t bothered to
look up even once and had swam 50 yards past the first marker,
extending my least favorite leg of the triathlon. At this point I
mellowed out a bit and let my brain catch back up. I realized I was
breathing heavily and switched to breast stroke so that I could keep
my head out of the water, see where I was going and let my heart
rate get back down below 200. With a combination of crawl and
breast stroke I finished the swim in just over 8 minutes but what
was going through my mind at that point was “I’m done with the swim,
I’m going to finish this thing.”
In my short triathlon experience, my favorite part of any race is
that moment when you first put your feet down in the sand at the end
of the swim. Even though my swimming has improved considerably,
both in form and in confidence, the bike is still far and away my
favorite stage and from the first race on I’ve always loved the
feeling of running up the beach to the transition area to get my
bike. My experience on the bike that day was less eventful. I’d
logged a decent number of training miles prior to the race and was
much more confident about the 10 mile bike stage. In fact, after
the first mile of spinning off my jelly legs from the swim, I found
myself getting into the camaraderie of the event, encouraging other
riders as we rolled through the hills. My smile widened as I
started to understand the triathlon experience beyond just a swim, a
bike and a run. Cycling is a great sport, whether solo or with a
pack of close friends but there is something powerful about being on
the road with hundreds of other riders, some slower, some faster,
some older, some younger, some on the latest custom carbon bikes and
others on a borrowed mountain bike that is inches to small. I’ve
done well on the bike in most of the events I’ve competed in and
while much of that is from training, I definitely get a boost
feeding off the energy of all the other riders.
I rolled through the bike course pretty easily, and probably could
have even pushed a little more but with the run still looming, I was
glad to have something left in the tank. At the time, my run pace
was a woeful 10 minutes per mile, a mark I’ve much improved on
since. But one thing I’ve learned about being strong on the bike
and weak on the run is that you are going to see a lot of athletes
more than once on the course (so be polite when you pass someone)
As I began the run I noticed quite a few people walking in the
first mile stretching their cramping calf muscles and recall being
glad that I had listened to one of the two pieces of advice given to
me by a triathlete friend who had suggested practicing the bike to
run transition (the other was suggesting that I practice swimming
in open water - whoops!) I had done several “bricks” during my
training and was glad to not have been one of the many walking the
first mile of the 3.5 mile course. Just before the second mile
marker, my buddy from high school caught up to me and we ran
together for a mile or so before he kicked it in for the last half
mile.
As I came down the final stretch I noticed a bunch of the elite
athletes who had already completed the course (and probably a bagel
or two by then), who had walked back out to the run course to cheer
on the mortals who were still finishing up; it was one of those
gestures I will remember for a while and a gesture I would like to
return some day. Since I am far from being able to finish a race
with the elite class my contribution for now is that I always find
the swimmer that looks like a nervous freshman and share my story
with them in the hopes that they will enjoy the race and get hooked
on the sport that has now got me.
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