As a humble triathlete, I arrived focused on the 2.4 mile swim. The swim that will begin my Ironman journey next month. At the end of a huge build week for me, I want to see how my mind and body are holding up. I also want to see if I can beat my time from last year: 1:27:11.
All of the races (with the exception of the 8k) are held at Boulder Beach. The course is a very smart and simple T-shape that goes straight out from the boat ramp. Swimming left around the first buoy, you tackle your first 1.2 miles before passing down the back of the "T" to take on your second 1.2 miles with the finish just out of the water as you run up the boat ramp.
There are three waves for the 2.4 mile swim with me in the middle. I opt to start at the back of the wave, figuring I can miss most of the mosh pit that is the essence of an open water start. As soon as the starter sends us off, I realize that this is a tactical mistake.
I spend the first twenty-five meters of the swim behind a group of four swimmers that are apparently out for a Saturday stroll. The pace is unnervingly slow. Looking left and right, all I see is feet and wetsuits. I am torn, not wanting to be "that guy" who swims over your back so he can occupy that space in the water that you are currently holding; at the same time, I have a goal that I am trying to achieve and I'm certainly not going to get it done swimming with Miss Daisy. I force myself to be patient for a few moments, focusing on developing a rythm in my breathing and trying to will my heart rate down. It's then that I see my opening.
Swimmers two and three drift away from each other just a little and I see a sliver of open water between them. I don't hesitate: I try to will my 250 pounds into a 105 pound missle and dig holes in the water as I try to shoot through the hole. As I am not a fast swimmer, the whole process is agonizingly slow. Up to their calf, then the hip. The swimmer on my right starts to drift back and I let my hand run down their shoulder to let them know I was there. the gap holds and I wriggle through. I sight the first buoy, coreect my line slightly and pull forward a little more before trying to set myself into a constant tempo.
Rounding the first buoy and heading down the line for the second turn, my line is almost immediately horrible. I feel like I'm swimming parallel to the shore, but everytime I sight, I'm headed back toward shore away from the buoy line. It's like I'm driving a car with really bad alignment and no power steering. I manage to get around the second turn, sight down the buoy line and start to pull.
I swim for awhile without sighting focusing on my cadence and breathing. Suddenly as I breathe left toward the center of the lake, I see a Kayak unusually close to me. What the hell is this guy doing? I sight and it becomes immediately clear that I should be asking what the hell am I doing? Off course again, I struggle to work my way back into the buoy line. I finally get there just before the mid-point of the race.
The second half of the swim goes a little better. I finally pickup the line and am able to draft off a woman for about 500 meters before passing her. It seems to take forever to get to the next turn, but I finally get there and begin the pull for home. 200 meters in a swimmer passes me going the other way on my left (the shore side). I panic a little, thinking that I might be trying to swim to Arizona again, but as I sight, I see that it is him and not me.
I feel good through the swim and make the turn for the leg toward the shore, you can hear the PA and the crowd as you head for shore. I'm pleased with the effort, but am convinced that I am slower than last year. I know that I would have the energy to get on a bike and get going though, and that is an important part of today's effort.
As I climb out of the water and hit the shore, I call out my number and check my watch. Life is good.
As always, a huge thank you to the race organizers and the volunteers for giving me the opportunity to test myself.
1:24:48 / 2.4 miles
No comments:
Post a Comment