Ironman Canada: The Swim (Part 2)

Months of training brought me to the day before the race. Training full-time is a constant burden on the clock, but was something I was used to. Training was done, so it was just me and my thoughts, despite being surrounded by others. There was uneasiness from having nothing to do for the first time in a long time. I didn’t even have my bike to tinker with. Ironman had, for a day, taken everything, but would give it all back in an enormous dose at 7 AM. It’s the thought of something as significant as a first Ironman that keeps a person up at night. That’s why I was concerned about not sleeping the previous night. As I feared, my mind was racing hours before I would be, which kept me from sleeping a wink.

I was grateful when others began to stir. I no longer had to worry about disturbing their sleep on such an important night. Two sleepless nights left me feeling rather run down. I kept reminding myself of my goals. Hawaii and 9:30 would keep me going for all 140.6 miles. After breakfast, I was itching to get to the transition area. My anxiety level rose as the time ticked away. As I went through my gear and checked over my bike, time seemed to be moving too quickly. My plan kept me on schedule, but I was overwhelmed with the moment.

After I put on my wetsuit, I headed to the swim start as the weight of my hopes and expectations seemed to weigh on me physically as it did emotionally. As I drifted along in my thoughts, I thought about how the black swim caps looked seriously aggressive. As I tried to enter the beach area, I was told that I needed to have my swim cap to enter. That snapped me back to reality. It surprised me that I actually forgot it in my transition bag. I thought I had checked everything, but must have left it in my bag. A light jog carried me back to my gear. I felt light and fast. My quick search turned into a detailed search, then a frantic search. Where was my cap? They must not have given me one when they made my bag. After jogging back, I briefly explained my situation and asked if I could swim without one, but was told I could not. I was told to stand by while they searched for a cap. Time was ticking away and my anxiety was growing even more. It took so long that I thought the race would start before the guy got back, but his return before the start was anything but good news. They didn’t have any caps, but they weren’t going to let me in without one. He told me I could wear any cap, but I had to have a cap.

It was officially time to panic. As I ran back to the car, I tried to reassure myself that it was a very long race and being a couple minutes late at the start wouldn’t be a big deal. On the other hand, this wasn’t how I wanted to start. I put too much time into making this my big day. I quickly grabbed a green cap from my bag. I still don’t know why I actually had it with me, but it was the cap I qualified for Canada in. Perhaps it was for luck. It was tough to control my pace on the way back. The thought of starting behind and swimming through all those swimmers was a big motivation. As I made my way into the beach area wearing my green cap, I felt like I didn’t belong and was envious about not getting the commemorative black cap. At least I didn’t miss the start. I couldn’t believe my eyes as the swim course was announced. We swam across the lake to a boat I could barely see, then went right for a very long ways, which took us further from shore. Finally, we headed back from another boat that I could barely see. Seeing an Ironman swim course for the first time is a very sobering experience.

I was able to make my way to the start rope shortly before the start. Time seemed to drag on and on at that point. More than 1700 of us were a few yards into the water eager to start the largest one-wave swim start in the world. We were really packed in there. Finally, the cannon blasted and we were off. I was really uneasy in open water. I didn’t like weeds, dark waters, the things that lurked in them or the things that lurked in my mind. Arms and legs were violently churning the water to the point that I couldn’t tell where one person ended and the next began. Swimmers were being hit and kicked and swam over and under. It was harder to breathe than it was to see and I was scared for my life. Once you start, there’s no stopping for at least a while. It literally felt like I was fighting for my life. The only thing I could do is try to blast my way off the front. Statistically I was one of the better swimmers there, but if I couldn’t break free, then I was just another swimmer thrashing about and inhaling as much water as air.
People were dolphining out in the shallow waters, which I decided to try also. With the beating I was taking, firm pushes off the bottom were helping me make much better progress. After what seemed like well over 200m, the water was still shallow enough that people could still dolphin. I had finally gotten enough space to swim. It was still a battle, but not a deadly one. My intensity was high in hopes of finding more and more space to call my own. I kept repeating “Hawaii” and “9:30” as I felt like giving up on the battle. Trying to calm myself, I remember thinking about how nice it was to see the sandy bottom instead of monster-infested weeds. About the time I was starting to relax, I had weeds in my face and the anxiety started to rise.

Just then, I noticed off to my left the one and only Lori Bowden. I figured a swim next to Lori might land me on TV. She’s a Canadian, racing Ironman Canada and favored to win Hawaii, and easy to look at. That would be a nice distraction. As I began to merge left, I was apparently in someone’s way. A hand pushed me deep into the water just as I was going to take a breath. Unlike fish, I can’t get much oxygen from water and have trouble finding comfort with water in my lungs. Inhaling that water triggered the panic immediately. On the other hand, I was going to Hawaii with my 9:30, so it seemed much more productive to surface and cough out the water, take another stroke and breathe. I did exactly that, but right as I went to take that breath, two hands push me down. Everything in the world lost it’s significance at that point, because I thought I was going to die. Screw Hawaii! I need air! Swimming near the inside line gave me the advantage of moving to the right of the buoy line to have a rewarding panic attack. I coughed and sputtered as I treaded water. Slowly, treading turned into forward progress and soon enough, I was swimming again.
It seems I lost my fire, but I still had a job to do and I was going to keep on pressing. The further I went, the more spread out the field got. Eventually I made it to the first turn. As expected, I was pummeled constantly for a couple more minutes. Things went well until the next turn, which resulted in another beating. I had my goggles raked off my eyes and down around my neck. That was a fun surprise. Some swimmers are too hostile. I try to avoid it at all costs, but have since learned that some swimmers really don’t care if they nearly kill me or anyone else. They’ll do whatever they have to for only their own good. After rounding that last turn, it was off to the races. I opened the throttle and swam some people down. It was so great to finally touch the earth again. Lori had escaped along with the constant TV coverage, but I was glad to be at a place where contact with other racers was no longer a concern. I wouldn’t have to worry about not being able to breathe. I escaped my fears of death by water, losing only a few minutes while managing to secure a fair swim time of 1:01:59, which netted me 280th place. I was looking for a 55 to 58, but I could still work with this. On solid ground, it was time to get Hawaii.

My day was just beginning, but then again, so were my troubles.