anxiety

May 26, 2018May 26, 2018

C26 Swim Camp in Nashville

Today was Day One at the Crushing Iron (C26) Triathlon Swim Camp in Nashville. We were greeted with a perfect morning for instruction, friendship, and good ole fashion work.

Coach Robbie starts with dry land instruction of the proper stroke technique. Then everyone swims short distances back and forth while others watch and give feedback. Everything is positive and by the end of this exercise everyone usually finds a couple things that will help them be a better swimmer.

After instruction, we hit the lake for some longer swimming and relays to implement what everyone has learned. At the end we recap and practice swim techniques while executing pack swims and cornering buoys.

All told campers spent about 4 hours and 30 minutes at the lake learning:

Swimming purposeful and powerful in open water
Staying square
Reducing Anxiety
Putting on and taking off wetsuits
Swimming Straight
Sighting
Cornering Buoys
Drafting
Race Contact Simulation
Proper breathing
Staying High in the water
Executing a Strong Catch

Camp continues tomorrow with a deeper diver into swim mechanics and practice under Coach Robbie’s supervision. We’re supplying videos of their swim stroke and on-site analysis in a positive learning environment.

Our June Triathlon Camp is sold out but we have one or two openings for August at the time of this writing. For more information, see our Camps page or email Coach Robbie at [email protected].

Check out our first Podcast on Swimming

Custom Swim Analysis – Get Faster By Video

December 26, 2013

What Makes Me Sick

It’s a glorious day in Nashville and I am finally starting to feel better after being laid out with some stupid illness. I have never been one to reach for drugs (well, other than my well documented periodic affairs with booze) so I found myself in search mode again. I have pinned down my sickness to three possible reasons:

1. General dehydration. I’m a big believer that hydration is the key to good health but as I moved toward the holidays (and wasn’t doing much exercise) I wasn’t drinking the things I should. Without swim, bike, and run, energy needs to come from somewhere else and I found a lot in coffee. It’s only a matter of time before a sludgy backlog builds in your body and constricts proper organ function. I have been slamming fresh juice and water again and look forward to the benefits. We are nothing without water. Maybe that’s why I love swimming so much.

2. Lazy Days and Nights. Speaking of sludge, nothing works it out like good, hard workouts. I’m not saying I don’t believe in viruses or that things often get the best of us, but I think a healthy body disposes of these things naturally long before they can take over. I mean, if you just step back and think about what being sick is, it makes sense. If you’re tuned up, you work a lot better in the heat or cold. I was worn out a lot while training this year, but only remember being sick once. Coincidentally, it was when winter changed to spring, and I think if I added a #4 to this list it might be nature’s seasonal cleansing pattern.

3. Bad State of Mind. To say I have a lot going on is both an under and overstatement. When you go up, you must come down, and that’s where I’m at. A year of incredible highs and lows has concluded with the highest peak and lowest valley. It’s hard to explain the rush you get as you close in and finish an Ironman, and it’s equally difficult to convey what it’s like when you start sliding down that mountain. I’m not talking about depression as much as I am confusion. After you set and attain such a lofty goal, you’re forced to ask the question, “Now what?” Yeah, that question. Then you realize the goal can never be the end. That’s when you have to dig deep and ask why you set the goal in the first place. It’s never enough to hang a medal on the wall. It only represents a chapter. You still have to write the book.

November 7, 2013

Mass Swim Start vs. Rolling Start

Recently, ESPN “Outside the Lines” spearheaded this piece on the dangers of open water swim in triathlon. It is a gloomy account that’s steeped in murky water — and I’ll likely be reminded about it for years to come by friends who prefer the safety of a couch.

Of course I feel bad for anyone who has lost a loved one to inopportune death. Two close friends of mine have died (outside of triathlon) when I least expected it, but no amount of advice or controls would have changed those endings. People go their own way, and people pursue Ironman because they have a desire to push themselves to the limit. They understand what they’re signed up for — and making them wear seat belts doesn’t mean they won’t be texting and driving. I could be the poster child for anxiety in the water, but the “danger” of open water swims is half (or more) of the reason I am so drawn to them. I have done every kind of swim start and have turned into a basket case in multiple races. I’ve clutched kayaks, buoys, and pool edges trying catch my breath, calm down and get a grip on reality. I understand how it feels to be in a major state of panic which can trigger something we are now referring to as “worrisome” situations.

9256_10101494399777790_778338974_n World Triathlon Corporation has responded to increasing criticism with “rolling swim starts” as part of their Swim Smart initiative.* Swim Smart is a solid and progressive idea, but rolling starts are are not a panacea.

The ESPN article says, “There are no simple answers,” yet, I think this line, buried deep in the piece, is the key to everything:

“There is a growing consensus that a warm-up or pre-race water acclimation area can help relieve athlete anxiety, but races are not required to provide one.”

Most outsiders would probably look at rolling starts and say, “Oh, yes, that is much safer because of fewer people and less body contact,” but as a relative beginner and someone who has been there, I don’t believe those are the main issues.

I consider myself a “decent” swimmer and felt comfortable enough to start in the front row of a 2.4 mile swim with 2,800 people, but just six weeks later I nearly freaked out 500 yards into a wave start with 60 swimmers at the Goosepond 1/2 triathlon. Why?

Top tier athletes are experienced and in good enough shape to “get by” without a good warm up, or acclimation to the water, but marginal swimmers or older age groupers (like me) are not as equipped physically or mentally. And I’ve learned, that it’s not the anxiety of body contact as much as the rush of the race that throws me off. When the cannon fires, people lose their minds and for some reason think they can sprint an entire Ironman. At the very least, most forget their plan and go out way faster than they should.

It’s not like rolling starts prevent contact. You’re still talking several hundred people starting at once and there will be flogging. Two athletes I trained with this summer just did the rolling start at Ironman Florida and one got a fat lip . . . the other a black eye.

If you want to talk about tough ways to start a race, look at Ironman Louisville (which I will be doing next year). 3,000 racers stand around in the dark, then shuffle down a pier and jump into the water with tight feet. As far as I know they don’t even let you warm up in the water (unless you’re a pro) at Louisville — and I think going in cold is by far the biggest concern.

Getting into the water 20 minutes early at Ironman Wisconsin saved my swim. I was in tune with my surroundings, acclimated to the water, and treading that long was a good warm up. It was an mass start and by far my longest open water swim, but I had no abnormal anxiety.

If we want safer races, which we do, triathlons and coaches should put more energy into educating people about the importance of a warm up, or be clear that they start comfortably at their own pace. Rolling starts may spread out the humanity, but they do nothing to slow a person down, in fact, they may speed them up in the worst way possible.

Ultimately, this comes back to the athlete. Nobody knows your body better than you and ignorance of the law is no excuse. I have “failed” in multiple swims, but I cannot blame that on the race or race director. It was me that didn’t warm up. It was me that didn’t put enough time in the pool or open water. It was me that didn’t listen to the coach or doctor. It was me who didn’t meditate, hydrate, or get enough rest.

I got into that mass swim start at Wisconsin fully aware of the risk, and that’s what I loved about it. I am here to live, not sit around and hope life shows up in a child proof package. But it seems we are on an impossible mission to take all risk out life, and our obsessions usually tend to make things more dangerous.

Deaths in triathlon are a sad, but inevitable fact that has more to do with individual preparation and precaution than simply changing the rules of the race. I realize the short term focus is aimed at pleasing lawyers, but triathletes I know prefer to deal with the real problems rather than mask the symptoms.

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* IRONMAN defines a rolling swim start as: Athletes will enter the water in a continuous stream through a controlled access point, similar to how running road races are started. An athlete’s times will start when they cross timing mats under the swim arch.

September 15, 2013

The Emotions of Ironman #IMWI

I’m still in the process of finishing my Ironman Wisconsin Race Report because I keep returning to the raw emotion of the event and feel a need to air some feelings before I breakdown my race. In short, the entire experience taught me you race Ironman for reasons much greater than yourself. (Photos courtesy of Carolyn Petredis Wasky)

You just can’t explain why you’d want to do an Ironman until you’ve done one. And while I still don’t have a clear answer, it lies somewhere in building character, relationships, and a connection to your spirit.

It is impossible to understand the beauty and vitality of 3,000 people in swim caps filing into the water to begin such a daunting journey. Sure, it’s competition, but for the most part it is with themselves. They have all made a commitment to be better and stronger people. To push potential to the limit. To live and experience life with people they love. And that path is contagious.

Family and friends line the “chute” and suspend the ego. They are in the race, too. I am one hundred percent convinced. Giving every ounce of energy they can spare to friends, family, and total strangers. They too will be exhausted (maybe more) when the final Ironman has crossed the finish line.It is a family affair in the purest sense because there are few expectations other than doing your best. There is no time for judgement, self-doubt, or sweating the small stuff.

Collective energy is the guardian angel that hovers above the entire 140.6 mile course, lifting racers when they least expect it, or need it most. It is a war between 3,000 people — and everyone is fighting for the same side.The experience at Wisconsin will stay with me forever. I’d trained beyond my perceived limits for one single day that sat in the future as a mystery. It has come and gone, but my 12-month-dream was everything and more than I imagined.

I live in the Volunteer state of Tennessee and it is abundantly clear the Badger state understands this concept well. Thousands of people I’ve never met greeted me with a willing smile and each would have given me a powder blue shirt off their backs. I am very proud to be from Wisconsin.

And to have my friends from Nashville along for the experience was incredibly rewarding. I have shared blood, sweat, and tears with these people and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to showcase my roots than Ironman. That day built lifetime bonds, and the story below articulates that better than I ever could.

The following is an excerpt from my coach Robbie’s IMWI spectator review, which is a great read, that is posted here. He tells a story about “Gary” who was struggling to finish the last mile. After we got back to Nashville, Robbie and Allie tried to find him and eventually tracked him down through the Senior Olympics. The second part is Gary’s email to Robbie and Allie. Reading both brought a tear to my eye.

From Ironman Wisconsin: Sights and Sounds from a Spectator’s View — By Robbie Bruce

. . . After a few minutes a man came around the corner. I literally thought he was going to drop. He was walking at a 90 degree angle. face staring flat at the ground. He looked as if he would face plant into the street at any minute. I began to walk next to him. He would lean on me. Faltering. “Keep it up buddy. Don’t stop.” He said he had to make 15hrs….” I have to. “I’m not for false hope so with the remaining distance I had to break it to him that was not a possibility. But he would still be and Ironman. He looked older. I was not sure how old. “I have to finish” he would say. I had no idea of his name but just kept walking with/against him.

Everyone was in, but our day was not done. We all continued to push for this stranger. Every few steps he would falter and literally use me as a wall to stand up. Wasky, Allie, Carolyn were determined to get him there. Before he hit the home stretch he muffled, “If I faint will you catch me. ” No. Gary. Im just gunna let you fall. Just kidding. We got you. No falling. No fainting. Prepare to run it in. Run it in.” Here we rare pushing him to run it in…. Go!!

He began to jog and we all ran with him. Surrounding him in a kind of support bubble. We had him on all sides. A stranger. We would most likely never see again. Yet we felt we were a part of his journey. Volunteers were yelling at us to move but we kept on. As we let him go into the light towards the finish we could here over the speaker, “Gary Pinter… 62 year old first time Ironman finisher from right here in Wisconsin….” We ran towards the finish…. The crowd…
“GARY, GARY, GARY, GARY, GARY.”

I think we were actually running and jumping and cheering trying to make it back…… A man we had met merely minutes ago managed to make some of us shed some tears of joy. Man. What a day. What an experience. What a sport.

—————–Below is the return email from the man in the story above.

Hi Allie;

My name is Gary Pinter. I think I’m the Guy your looking for. I was honored to hear that you are searching for me. My good friend and biggest swim competitor John White, President of the Senior Olympic told me last night at dinner that you guy’s are looking for me. The funny thing about all of this was, I told everyone in a mass email that some people in the form of “ANGELS” appeared in my life near the finish line. I had less than a mile to go and my back was starting to cramp so bad that I could barely move from the pain. They encouraged to keep going and they would be by my side to the finish. Well, what can I say, it WORKED. I finished it in about the 15 hours and 3 minutes I predicted. Now, for myself I didn’t ever think that I would ever find the ANGELS that God sent from HEAVEN until I died and at that time I could meet you all face to face. Now I know these ANGELS live in Nashville Tennessee. Allie and friends I thank you all for being there at my time of need. All along the way of my 140.6 journey to becoming an Ironman people encouraged us from the very start. Even before entering the water. It was my family and friends 5 years ago, to get up and work hard and train to my limits. My wife Beth is my biggest support. “ALWAYS TELLING ME THAT I WILL FINISH THE IRONMAN WITH TIME TO SPARE” My kids were also a HUGE support. All the 60,000 people along the 140.6 miles we traveled that day right to the end when I found my wonderful Wife Beth, giving her a hug and kiss before I crossed the finish line. Now that I did this, it’s not that big of a deal. The story of the people who encouraged me to train and the Angels God sent me to complete it, is the BIG DEAL!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for being there!!!!!!!! Gary Pinter

September 13, 2013

Ironman Wisconsin 2013: Pre-Race Report #IMWI

Thursday 9/5

I rolled into Madison on Thursday afternoon and decided to drive the Ironman Wisconsin bike course before checking into the hotel. Rebekah handled the map and took notes as we headed out “the stick,” and despite what I’d heard, I wasn’t quite prepared for what I was about to witness.This course is surrounded by folklore that rivals Paul Bunyan and I was unwilling to let the reports of “relentless hills” sink into my mind. But, as I drove up and down for over an hour, I started to believe. Driving the bike course was the best and worst thing I could have done.

We checked into the hotel, then walked across the street to Machinery Row Bicycles, which was one of the coolest bike shops I’d ever experienced. They had everything and the employees were some of the nicest people you’d want to meet, which set the tone for just about every interaction I had with the fine folks of Madison.

After a quick bike tune-up, I grabbed my wetsuit and took a little swim in Lake Monona around 4:00. It was unseasonably warm that day and the water was around 74 degrees. I was literally baking after swimming 500 meters. I knew it would be much cooler the morning of the race, but the fear of overheating slithered into my mind.The rest of the Fab 5 got to town around 7:00 and, after a couple beers at the hotel, we went to eat at The Great Dane near the capitol. I was a little hesitant to say anything about the bike course, but felt obligated to let them know and suggested it might be a good idea for them to drive it in the morning, and they said they would.

Friday 9/6

We were staying at the Ruby Marie Hotel and it didn’t take long to realize that we had struck gold. The employees were ridiculously nice, it had a great little bar, a bad ass deli, and was literally attached to the world famous Essen Haus. There was no reason to leave, and the Ironman transition was only two blocks away. For all of this, I cannot thank Season Kaminski enough for recommending the hotel after doing IMWI in 2011.

As each day in Madison progressed, Ironman became more real. Around 10:00, we went to Monona Terrace to check in for the race. The Fab 5 was in full force as we weaved our way through each of the check points. We signed waivers, stepped on the scale, got wrist bands, swim caps and timing chips. After that, we walked through the expo where, against my superstitious judgement, I bought the IMWI “name shirt” and added a can of Infinit that I knew I wouldn’t use on race day.

Smiles beamed from the amazing volunteers and workers built the finish line in the shadows of the imposing state capitol. More than once I daydreamed about crossing under that arch, though on some level I still had doubts. It’s hard to imagine you belong until you belong, but deep down I knew I was ready. I also had to keep reminding myself it would likely be the hardest and most rewarding finish line I’d ever cross.After the expo I went to the room for rest. I laid in reverse on the bed with my feet against the wall, hoping I could get some of the swelling out of my ankles. I hadn’t told anyone, but for the last couple weeks the right side of my foot was bothering me and my left achilles was very tender. Because of that, I didn’t run for two weeks leading up to the race. I’d been saying all along that my main goal on race day was to “feel good” and two days out, I wasn’t quite there.

A couple hours later I started getting text messages about the bike course from the Fab 5. Jim said he was trying to wrap his head around it and that it was tougher than he thought. Daniel said, “At first I didn’t think it was bad, but now I think it may be a humbling experience.” Mark was wide eyed and said he thought it looked tough, but he was excited about the challenge. Kevin opted out for beer and cheese shopping.

We’d decided on dinner at Paesano’s just up the street, but went to the hotel bar to wait for Wasky, Carolyn, and Allison to get in from Nashville. Coach Robbie couldn’t make it because he had two athletes qualify for the world championships in Vegas and decided he couldn’t miss that opportunity. He dropped the news a month before and I was bummed. Robbie was a fixture in Jim, Kevin, and I’s training for nearly 9 months and the entire focus was on Wisconsin. It wasn’t like I felt I needed a coach the day of the race, but I really wanted him to be in Madison. It was my home state, we spent 3 mornings a week together at the lake and countless hours riding together on the Trace. All for this day, and Robbie wouldn’t be there to see us race.

But, he was texting us and making sure everything was cool. He also gave us a carrot by saying Wasky was delivering a special package to the team. We all thought it would be our new kits and were excited to wear them on our Saturday practice run and hopefully in the race.

Wasky showed up at the bar around 5:30 and we had a couple beers before heading to Paesano’s. Somehow we all got separated and I ended up walking in alone. The hostess pointed me to the room with double glass doors in the back, and when I walked in, I thought I was hallucinating. Sitting along the wall with the Wasky’s and Allison was Robbie! The first words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?!?”

He pulled an elaborate hoax and I couldn’t have been happier. It truly gave me a boost knowing that he would be cheering (and answering many questions) alongside my family and pushing all the right buttons that would somehow help me get to the end.After dinner we walked by the finish line again and the lit capitol in the background gave me chills. We took a few pictures, then strolled through the perfect Madison air back to our hotels for a night of rest before a short morning workout. Saturday 9/7

Our morning workout was a 15 minute swim, a 35 minute bike, and a 10 minute run. The water felt much better at 8 in the morning, but it was a tad choppy. We all decided the lake current was moving the right direction and would be behind us on the long leg of the swim. Our bike took us out the first few miles of the course, including a romp through the Reliant Center parking lot. We put the bikes into the van, then made a short run down to the end of Monona Terrace and back. I took it very, very slow and my ankle felt good so I stopped a little short and hoped for the best in the morning.

Rebekah and I went to breakfast with Mark, his wife and daughter, and it was unbelievable. They were staying at our hotel, too and we got free vouchers for the Essen House. We asked the waitress what our voucher was good for and she said, “Anything on the menu, including alcohol.” Believe me, a Bloody Mary was tempting, but stocking my transition bags would be confusing enough without a buzz. We opted for walleye and eggs, which came with potatoes, pancakes, and bacon. It rocked. And even if we did pay, it was only like 10 bucks. It’s the simple things.

Rebekah left to go to the Badger game with Robbie, Allie, and the Wasky’s while I went to get my gear bags ready. I laid everything on the bed and must have checked 20 times to make sure my shoes were in the right bags. The Badger game wasn’t on TV at the hotel, so I turned on the clock radio and listened to Matt Lepay call the game on the radio. There are so many distractions in life and there was something about listening to football on the radio that calmed my nerves and helped me focus on putting gummy bears in my special needs bags.

My family showed up around 3:00 and it was so awesome to have them all together. My brother was in from Milwaukee, my sister from Dallas, and my parents from Beloit. We walked across the street and I did my best to explain how their day of viewing would work.I stood on the shore pointing toward a turn buoy we couldn’t see. I have become very confident in my swimming, but there’s something about looking at an Ironman swim course that can humble you in a heartbeat. And, if you’re not a swimmer, oh, say, like my dad . . . it can seem downright outlandish.

I paid close attention to his eyes and I could sense anxiety. He acted calm, but I knew he was concerned. What father wouldn’t be? I saw it first hand in Louisville when I watched with Wasky’s parents after he plunged into the murky Ohio River. An Ironman swim is not easy for first-time-watching-parents to digest.

I assured him it would be fine as we jostled our way across the busy streets back to the Ruby Marie where we sat together as a family with one focus for the first time in ages. It was a very simple, yet powerful moment for me.

Around 5:30 I picked up my phone and had about 35 text messages, the last one from Jim saying he’d be there in 10 minutes to pick me up for dinner. I didn’t read anything about where we were going and headed down to the van.

As we drove out East Washington I finally asked where we were the hell we were going and he said, “Tex’s Roadhouse.” I couldn’t believe my ears. I did want a steak, but here we were in beautiful downtown Madison and we’re now driving out to the east side to eat at a chain restaurant? I tried to keep cool, but Jim knew I was a little pissed.

Then I got pissed because I was pissed and a hundred thoughts swirled in my mind. Someone mentioned the steak houses downtown were really expensive, and I offered to chip in a hundred bucks for the meal. But the rest of the crew was already at the restaurant and I made a quick mental adjustment. I couldn’t afford to be upset the night before the race. I over reacted and knew it. I forced myself to go with the flow and it turned out to be a solid meal, not to mention a tasty bit of entertainment from the very, very happy employees and exposure to this awesome painting that I may just have to turn into a tattoo. We got back to the hotel around 7:30 and I laid down immediately hoping I would be asleep by 8. Then it was nine. Then ten. I was tossing and turning. Just when I’d feel myself drifting off a screaming child would run down the hall, or a train would go by, or drunks started yelling outside the Essen Haus. I was wired and couldn’t fall asleep.

I’d been up since 5 am, had a workout, didn’t nap, walked all over town, and there wasn’t a tired bone in my body. Eleven o’clock. Midnight. Wide awake. It was unbelievable. I even sat in meditation for 30 minutes to calm down. There was no calming and I would be getting up at 4 am. Sometime around 1am I dozed off before waking up again at 3:30. I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

I climbed out of the sheets at 4am, had two glasses of water, ate an orange, a power bar, and a banana, then sipped on a diluted batch of Perform. At 5:15 I walked alone through the dark and empty streets of Madison on my way to bike transition. I was about to race an Ironman on 2 1/2 hours of sleep.

May 21, 2013

Open Water Swim Clinics – New Video!

We are doing a ton of work within Ironman training and the more I think about it, the more I believe the weekly open water swims could be the most valuable. I think of the Ironman swim in two ways:

1. It may be the shortest “time section” of the race, but it can absolutely wreck you if you’re not comfortable and ready. I’m on a continuum between insatiable and utter fear.
2. The faster you get out of the water, the fewer people you’ll have ahead of you on the bike course. You’ll also be with faster people who will naturally raise your game.

So, our Coach, Robbie Bruce and his swim clinics, have been a major gift. He’s there four days a week (Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday) ready to show us everything he knows about swimming in open water. Sundays are at 4 pm, all other days 6 am. He teaches mass starts, sighting, drafting, and anything else that will take your pool training to a completely different level. I’ve been in open water 5 times this year and it has given me unbelievable confidence, along with transforming my comfort and abilities. If you live in Nashville, I can’t recommend it enough. Here’s a video I made as part of the Crushing Iron series that gives you more information.

May 6, 2013

Rev 3 Knoxville Olympic – Swim Summary

As we filed down to the swim start, I was standing next to a guy who was shivering and said, “I’m never doing this race again.” I assumed he was going to say something like the weather sucks or whatever, but he said, “It’s so unorganized, nobody knows where anything is. I mean, I got here late and missed the informational meeting, but still.”

I wanted to say, “Oh yeah, maybe next year, you should try putting on a fucking triathlon,” But I just shrugged and turned away. Nerves, anxiety, or whatever it must have been, didn’t deserve a response. I thought Rev 3 put on a tremendous race in miserable conditions.

I’m always humbled when riding or running along and see volunteers excitedly offering water in rainy/55 degree weather. Who are you awesome people? And aside from a few sticks in the mud, most of the athletes were remarkably upbeat and positive. I guess that’s why I’m so excited to be doing triathlons. Below is the summary of my Rev 3 Olympic Swim.

My wave filed through the gallows to face the hangman shaped swim course. The attitude ranged from anxious to intrepid. I mean, who in their right mind would wake up at 6 o’clock on a freezing cold and wet Sunday morning to go swim point nine miles in a raging river? But oddly, I sensed an air of calm and content, probably akin to what death row inmates feel moments before their execution. We were ready. Or were we?

My new buddy, Cliff, decide to get it over quick, and jumped in the freezing water just as we got to the pier. The problem was, it was about 40 yards downstream from the start line. I moved about 10 yards further up the pier, cupped the cold water and let it trickle down my spine to ease the shock. Then, as I was splashing my face, the starter started running toward us shouting, three, two, one! The horn blew, and our wave was off! I looked back at poor Cliff, who had just added 40 yards to his race, then sprinted down the pier and flopped into the river like a maimed walrus about 15 yards behind the people I was now chasing.

It was totally my fault, and lesson number one of the day. Don’t waste pre-race time in conversations with people trying to bring you down.

I’ve never been to the English Channel, but as I flailed about in my new environment, I glanced at the horizon and swore I saw the Walde Lighthouse peaking through the mist.

My pool training has been consistent and my improvements impressive. But as the cold reality of the open water splashed my face and pushed my backwards, my technique acted like a Copperfield prank, leaving me with a empty top hat and no rabbit.

The memory of my first Olympic swim in Ashland City at NashVegas tried its best to creep into my head. That was a rainy day, too, but certainly not as cold and I was on the verge of a meltdown. The NashVegas swim nearly drove me to quit, but I managed to drag myself out of the water in 42 minutes.

I was doing everything to remain calm, but seemingly not moving any closer to my destination. I glanced to my right and throngs of swimmers plowed their way up the line of yellow buoys. I’m no sighting savant, but my intuition told me they were taking the long way to the mark. I stayed to their left and swam next to a paddle boat hoping I wouldn’t get the urge to jump on board.

Frankly, I wasn’t warmed up. I was saying “relax” over and over to myself, but my breathing was short, and of all things, I got tired 300 yards into the race. I stopped and stared at the buoy and knew my only recourse was dropping into a casual breast stroke to find my breath.

Exactly one thing was running through my mind. “I just fucked up my race with this swim.” I forgot my watch and had no sense of time, but when people all around you are wind milling their swim strokes and you are basically treading water, the panic level cranks a little tighter.

Slowly, I began to calm down, but my breaststroke is no match for the raging currents of a river. I was going nowhere, fast, but stayed the course and slowly emerged into freestyle as I turned the corner.

I still felt a little tight in my chest, but focused on nothing but breathing and by about half way through the swim I started to engage. Suddenly, I felt strong and even found myself in a successful drafting position. I also noticed that I was passing a lot of people. It was an empowering feeling and I kept hammering toward the exit, which was still at least 500 yards away. But for the 500 yards, I did not flinch. I may have saved my race.

I touched the side of the pier and a friendly volunteer helped drag me out of the water. I landed with a big squish on my waterlogged ass, then rolled to my knees, hoping my legs would work. They did.

I walked for twenty feet then eased into a light jog as I fought to unzip my wet suit. I looked around hoping to catch a glimpse of my coach, but didn’t recognize a soul. I had ZERO idea of how long that swim took and figured coach would yell out my time as I ran by in a hazy glow. He wasn’t there, and I took that as a good sign. Maybe I got out of the water faster than he thought I would? He confirmed later it was true.* At the very least, I knew I was still in the race.

To be continued . . .

* My official swim time at Rev 3 Olympic was 26:26.

February 20, 2013

More Nerves

So, all of a sudden I’m sitting here a little nervous about the New Orleans half marathon. It’s this Sunday and I know I can complete it, but have no clue whether or not I’ve trained right.

I’ve honestly started looking at all upcoming races as training grounds for the one and only race that has my real focus: Ironman Wisconsin. We’ve been talking about a 1:45 for me at New Orleans, but if that comes with a need for a few days off, I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s going to take a serious effort from me and will literally cut 29 minutes off my only other 1/2.

Oh, who am I kidding, I’ll probably shoot for 1:30 and deal with the consequences.