The Swim

If anybody has ever had the opportunity to see an Ironman race up close, the swim start is one of the most impressive sites you'll ever witness.

Ironman Canada is even better, considering it has the largest mass swim start in the world.

Imagine 2500 animals jumping into the water at precisely the same moment and thrashing about as they appear to try to escape something... Maybe you've seen antelope do that in Africa while running away from a lion, but never a human herd...

That is precisely what it looks like. I've watched it before and it's amazing. But if you want truly amazing, get right into that pack and try it yourself. You don't know organized chaos until you are in the middle of it.

As I said in my last post, at 6:59 we're all the same... Well, as the cannon went off, we were all different. People walked, dived, continued to chat with friends and family (taking there time), etc. as the gun went off. It's like an old Monty Python comic sketch where the starters pistol goes and everybody heads out in opposite directions. Each with our own plan for getting through this bubbling cauldron that had formed from all the arms and bodies flailing away.

I knew my approach... Stick to the outside and work your way in as you approach the first turn. It's a triangular swim and I knew how the start would look. I also knew that I had to protect my left arm as much as possible heading out, as an errant body smashing into my thumb would hurt incredibly. If you line up on the left-most part of the swim start and head out in a direct line towards the first turn, some 1600 meters out there. If you do it properly, the cost of staying on the outside is about 50 meters. Then again, that depends on staying in a straight line.

I headed out. Steve C. and I had started together but he was a much faster swimmer, so I knew he'd take off. But we wished each other good luck and went our separate ways. I knew this was not a social call anyway. I began my swim fairly conservatively, just trying to keep pace with whomever was around but also not getting my excitement level up too much. I managed to stay on the outside, which probably cost me a little because I wasn't able to catch a draft off of the 1000 odd bodies in front of me. No matter, I needed to be safe for now.

My arms felt good and loose, and my left forearm, especially, seemed to be fluid and be getting stronger and stronger. I had been swimming 6 days of the 7 prior to the race, which did not in any way make up for the 42 days off I had had, but was enough to give me confidence on the swim. As in Osoyoos, I decided not to take a watch. I didn't want to be tempted to look, or try to catch my split at the turns. I wanted to let how I felt dictate my swim, and let the time work itself out.

I approached the first turn and felt my first bang of bodies as I tried to close the lane between the outside and the massive boat that signalled the first right turn. As the swimmers turned, some reacted slower than others, so occasionally I had someone torpedo me from the side while not realizing it was time to turn. No matter. Stay calm, focused, and keep the arms and legs moving.

My goggles had fogged up again around this turn, so I took a moment to tread water, pull them off my eyes, and wash them out with water. As we made the right turn I was staring almost directly into the morning sunrise, and having fogged up goggles would have made the next section more difficult than I already needed.

The next section was about 450 meters to the next turn, and continued outward away from shore. I had a good rhythm going and felt good about stretching out, rolling, and reaching out for each stroke, as I had practiced all year. With 6 weeks off, nothing felt natural, but I knew what felt good, and swimming with some technique felt good. I made my goal to swim as perfectly as I could imagine. I don't know if I was or not, but I was making every stroke an effort in perfection.

We approached the last turn, heading into the final 1800 meters. By now I was right in the middle of the pack, and could see bodies on the left and right as close as 1 foot away and seemingly endlessly deep. A few times I was even sandwiched, having two bodies crash into me from either side at the same time. I can't imagine swimming as a contact sport, but I know from triathlons that it is nothing short of one, and the funny thing is that I bet those two bodies who collided with me at the same time were thinking the same thing - "man, I just got sandwiched" - because on either side of them there was always someone moving into their swim zone. A couple of times, the person on my left (always a different person it seemed) banged my arm, and on two or three occasions - in retrospect I can't recall - I did get bumped in the thumb. It hurt, but not enough to put me off the stroke and rhythm.

1800 meters, however, seemed to take an awfully long time. I just kept passing buoy after buoy, thinking that the next one might be the last, only to be disappointed when I saw another, and another, in front. Those orange buoys are great signals, but sometimes they let you catch a glimpse of just how far you still have to go.

I made a decision to enjoy this as much as possible. I had everything going for me to be able to swim this course. I thought I would try and swim even more effectively, even stronger, and even faster, as I approached the finish of this leg of the journey. I wanted to know I had given it a good go.

I could hear the crowd in the distance, and the race announcer's voice getting louder and louder as I approached. He was shouting out names of competitors exiting the water. I didn't hear the names, but I knew I would soon be one of them. I got closer and saw that some of the swimmers in front of me were standing upright. That meant they were about to exit the water. I swam another 10 meters or so, and stood up myself. I was finished the swim. I pulled down my wetsuit to allow myself to start running a little more freely. I looked to my right and saw Rachel and Michael taking pictures.

I ran up the matt over the chip timer and looked at the clock.....

1:14:21... Later I would find that put me as the 1095 fastest swimmer... Which was in the top half! My predicted time was 1:20-1:35 given no swimming, and my time 4 years ago was 1:13... I was so happy. I thought I would be around 1:30 given I felt I wasn't swimming that fast. Go figure!

I ran up to the "wetsuit strippers" and lay down on the grass as is customary. They whipped off the suit and handed it to me.

I ran through and grabbed my swim-bike bag, which had my helmet and cycling equipment. I went into the transition tent and took off my swim suit, and put on my bike shorts. As I left I ran by the Kinesys volunteers, who sprayed me with more suntan lotion. Then, I went into the bathroom for my first bathroom stop of the day.

I ran down the concrete road to my bike, at Row 11, and put my cycling shoes on. I looked and noticed about half the bikes were still on the rack. So I wasn't in last!

I rolled my bike up to the mount line, and saw my time. 1:24. I had about a 9-10 minute transition which was just fine. I wasn't worried considering I still expected to be swimming at this time...

Now off to the bike. 112 miles on a seat! (bike story next...)