The Swim

 

All of the pre-race calm that I have been trying to instill in myself quickly disappears as I jump into the open water havoc.  To ensure that my goggles don’t fly off of my face, and to be sure that I don't hit another triathlete while entering the water, I jump in feet first.  I look like a five year old getting into the water for the first time, but I don’t care how I look.  There is an initial shock when my whole body is temporarily submerged in the channel that leads to the Ohio River.  It is colder and darker than I expected it to be and, even though I mentally prepared for this first moment of the race, the cold and the dark come as a surprise to me.  As the boxer Mike Tyson said, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.”  Jumping into the water is like getting a punch in the face.  

Maybe it was the excitement of the day, or being surrounded by all of those other swimmers, or maybe I started off to fast, but I had a panic attack.  My whole chest tightened up and it felt like an elephant was sitting on my ribs.  I couldn't breathe.  I thought that I was going to die.  I have had heart palpitations before and knew that if I just gave it a moment or two then my heart problems would pass but this time it was different.  This time it was my whole chest and the problem wouldn't go away.  At our mandatory race meeting the officials told us that if we have any troubles in the water then we could grab onto one of the kayaks, which were floating in the channel for such an emergency.  I started to look around for a kayak to hold onto but didn't see one within an easy swim distance.  I had to find a way to handle this situation on my own or sink.

A real fear sets in as I suddenly find myself in the middle of a swarm of other swimmers while having a panic attack.  I try to breathe correctly, but it is difficult with all of the splashing around.  In addition to my chest tightening my heart feels like it has stopped beating or at least it feels like my heart rate has slowed down.  Then, with an involuntary flutter, my heart starts beating normally and my brain comes alive with a new flush of blood.  All of this internal commotion makes me dizzy and I begin to worry because I remember that one year a 48 year old triathlete died of a heart attack in this very same channel and the officials had to stop the race and fish out his body.  One comforting thought was that, if I died in the water, then at least I would die like a warrior.  It was a stupid thought to have, and an irresponsible one since I have a blind wife and three children depending on me.  Since Ironman Day I have learned that heart palpitations come from stress and they are not unusual for triathletes to endure.  My emotions are heightened but deep down inside I know that I didn’t enter this race to die.  I know my body well enough to know what it is capable of and I refuse to let this panic attack get the best of me.  I am an experienced swimmer and I find confidence in my ability to stay above the water.  After allowing myself to bob in the water for a while longer, I practice biofeedback to calm myself down, and transition myself back into the freestyle stroke, and begin to propel myself forward.  

Eventually the symptoms subsided, but they wouldn't completely go away until I had cleared the channel.  A panic attack is the absolute worst way to begin a race but the initial flush of fear and anxiety are behind me now as the large group of swimmers makes its way out of the channel and into the Ohio River.  The water is choppy on Ironman Day because of the strong winds.  There are waves and even some white caps and I have the unique sensation of feeling the water move me up and down while I tried to propel myself forward.  I haven't had that experience since I did a triathlon in Lake Michigan, and, since I wasn't used to the cross current, having trained in a pool, I ended up with quite a bit of water in my mouth.  Only when I am able to stick my head up out of the water and take a few strokes do I feel better.  If I let my fears get the best of me and panic at this initial foray into the water, then this race is over before I even have a chance to start it.  To gain control of my fears I have to figure out how safe I am, so the first thing to do is to see how close the other triathletes are to me.  Once they have been spotted, I can stake out my own territory and, since I am slower than the elites, it is better if I swim off to the side and let them go by.

We are all bunched up during the swim and I am continuously hit with elbows and feet and hands and knees.  The water is so crowded that I stay in the safety of the fringe of the pack so that I don't hit another triathlete.  This strategy doesn’t always work and I am hit in the mouth by a woman who has a metal watch.  The watch cut my mouth and I was worried that the wound would get infected and contract hepatitis in the polluted Ohio River.  There are triathletes all around me, vying for position, and, since I just want to finish the race and am not concerned about my time, I remain off to the side.  The adrenaline is coursing through my veins and my heart is racing and I try to settle down by getting into a routine of counting 20 strokes and then poking my head out of the water to sight the buoys.  The problem with the open water swim is that you can't see anything.  The river is dark, my goggles invariably fog up and I have to stop at least once to clean them off so that I can see well enough to know that I am at least going in the right direction.  

My mind is now set on the immediate object of finishing the swim portion of the race, but it is not going well.  Unlike swimming laps in an enclosed pool where I can see the bottom of the pool,  I have to continuously site myself to make sure that I am pointing in the right direction.  I try to align myself with the other triathletes and sight the shore to tell where I am but, in order to see the final objective, I have to lift my head and face forward.  This breaks up the momentum of my swim as I have to come to an almost complete stop to sight the buoys which mark our way.  I have trained for this situation, however, and doing all of those laps with the butterfly stroke is paying off.  The pushing down motion to keep my head up is good practice for sighting in the Ohio River.