La Jolla, California
This was no doubt the most difficult
swim from a mental standpoint that I have ever attempted. I have raced over
twice the distance, but this race was more challenging. I can summarize this
race in one phrase, “lost at sea” That is how I felt for a great part of this
race. Below is a map of the course:
The red is the 1 mile
course which I successfully navigated and completed half an hour prior to
beginning the Gatorman swim. The purple line is the Gatorman course. The yellow
line is my course.
After completing the 1 mile swim, I had 30 minutes to rush up get registered and marked for Gatorman. I also had to eat, hydrate and get back down for the Gatorman start. They referred to attempting both races as doing the double. Not as many people attempt it as I would have thought. Physically I was ok. Being out in the cold water for that long without a wetsuit was a concern of mine since in Arizona this time of year I can’t find any cold water to train in. But the toughest part of this race was mental. Going out to the turnaround seemed to take forever. The swells got bigger the further you went and I actually started to feel a bit sea sick. Going out I tried to draft but just couldn’t seem to find a fit. This race had some strong and fast swimmers. The turnaround was straight into the swells and reminded you just how small you are in this big ocean. After the turn around I was alone. I don’t know what happened to everyone. I could not see anyone ahead of me or behind me. I felt lost at sea. I began to experience the mental torture of self-doubt. I could see land in the far off distance, but I had no idea what to aim for. I had no one to follow and worst of all. I knew that if I did not finish in 1 hour and 45 minutes it would not even count, so I swam hard because I felt like I had already been out there over an hour. I had to just swim and have faith that I was going in the right direction with nothing to confirm that for me. That plays on your mind. “Am I swimming this hard in these swells the wrong direction?” Am I swimming in vain?” “Where the hell is everyone?” Am I lost? There were no buoys, and no swimmers. What happened? Eventually a lifeguard on a SeaDoo told me I was way off course and needed to correct. You can see that point on my yellow path on the map. Eventually I saw the buoy from the 1 mile swim and sprinted towards it once it was in sight. I did not want all this effort to be for nothing. I had to finish before the cut off. I pushed myself into a place of pain for a very long time. As I neared the shore I could see the giant plumes of Kelp flying by beneath me. When the kelp or seaweed got thick at the surface I grabbed it with my hands and pulled in an effort to get through it as fast as I could.
I was not going to fail. I did not want to have
to come back and do this race again. If I failed to make the cut-off I wanted
to know that I gave it everything in me. I was not going to look back and wish
I had swam 3 seconds faster at some point. After what seemed like an awful long
time I hit the beach. I tried to stand in two feet of water and fell forward. I
crawled a few steps and tried to stand again. This time my legs held me up and
and I ran forward stumbling. The long swim, the cold and the exerted effort of
sprinting for so long had taken away my ability to balance on land and one of
the volunteers seeing my distress grabbed my arm. I pulled it free as I raced
up the beach towards that timing mat. Remember I was not going to miss the cut
off by 3 seconds or something. In the end I swam a 1:31 and had 14 minutes to
spare. I have this to say about this race. This race should not be attempted by
anyone who is not very comfortable with open water swimming, or does not have good
navigation skills. I thought I had both, but this race humbled me.
