The key to pursuing excellence is to embrace an organic, long-term learning
process, and not to live in a shell of static, safe mediocrity. Usually,
growth comes at the expense of previous comfort or safety.
The most common response when discussing the distances in an
upcoming race typically centers on the first leg, and for good reason. Anything
over a mile draws a confused stare that reflects the unfamiliarity with the
task. When does anyone really have the opportunity, need, or
desire to move that far through the water?
Competitors in an Olympic or Half-Iron distance average
30-45 minutes in the water, fighting to the finish and transition to the
bike. You can double that and then some
for the full Ironman 2.4-mile aquatic battle.
It’s a long way and quite a bit of time to spend pulling yourself toward
T1.
Where do I Start?
I’m a runner – have been for the last decade and remain very
comfortable through the highs and lows that come with racing on dry land. Prior to May 2017, the water was uncharted
territory and my ability to cut from one wall to the other was built upon an
unsightly, spastic, ineffective freestyle stroke. We were starting from square one in the pool
with three months until my first mile-long swim in open water.
As expected, my first foray into the lanes at Drexel
University had me facing a harsh and terrifying reality. I couldn’t effectively do two laps. How was I supposed to swim a mile?
It was time to get serious and train with a sense of urgency
that I hadn’t yet needed when lifting or running. Failure to respect the distance and prepare
fully would leave me floundering in the Atlantic City bay, sinking toward a DNF
or worse. For a necessary shove into the
water and lessons on the most basic of swimming principles, I turned to a great
friend and former collegiate swimmer.
We’re Alive…Barely!
Humbling. Challenging. Frustrating.
The first few weeks didn’t offer much encouragement as the
race countdown started to become a factor.
I learned to keep my head down and worked to find my breathing rhythm,
but swallowed more water and chlorine than I’d care to admit. Kicking drills led by my coach and
form-focused laps had me overthinking each session and hitting the water in pure defeat.
Going nowhere fast, there were moments when I wanted to quit
and return to my comfort zone. However,
it’s important to remember that true growth is nearly always accompanied by
discomfort and paralyzing doubt. Your
response to that uncertainty can define you as a person and, in this case, a
competitor.
For a month, I swam back and forth with a buoy between my
knees to stabilize my hips. I continued
to establish a consistent breathing cadence while trying to calm my motion in
times of high stress. Coping with bad
training days filled with poor laps, awkward technique, and the frozen first
dip into the water became the norm.
The Eureka Moment has a way of popping up when you need it
most, but not before the work is done and patience is running thin. Just a month and a half before my first race,
I slumped into the water and began my warm-up, which at that point was only a 3-5
minute water jog. Without thinking too
deeply, I found myself cruising for fifteen minutes, surfacing only for water
and to allow the relief of progress to wash over me.
Become a Shark
From that moment on, the water was clearer, the light at the
end of the tunnel seemed brighter, and hope of reaching my goal was
restored. I attacked each lap with a
renewed sense of purpose and determination that had faded with perceived
failure. Swimming three to four times a
week, I was finally consuming more improvement than pool water and became more
confident as race day approached.
Moving to an Olympic-size outdoor pool was my final step and
allowed me to get a feel for longer
distances without the safety net of a wall
to touch every 25 meters. Open-water
swimming was one mental hurdle I was eager to clear and, in all honestly, I had
no apprehension about bobbing around hundreds of yards from the shore.
In my first swim sessions, my coach likened the process to a
train chugging along with consistent mechanics and propulsion. As I continue to write, you’ll notice that I’m
enamored with the analogy of being a shark in the water, and not just for
aquatic training. I’m motivated by the
need to constantly be moving forward, on the hunt for improvement, miles,
and strength. This was the first time I
could feel myself on the offensive, treating the end of the swim as something
to chase down.
An Entire Ocean to Conquer
By late summer, I was advancing through the water with a
smoother version of the freestyle stroke and breathing bi-laterally. With practice and attention to detail, the
basics that forced me to the brink of giving up had become second nature. I completed the endurance swim in each race
and was satisfied of my splits, but prouder of the effort it took to know I
could finish.
As I begin to eyeball the 2.4-mile distance for IronMan Lake
Placid, the training swims are now geared toward spend and distance. Warm-ups
are 1000-2000m and exercises are 50-300m repeats – a far cry from the first
sessions when I barely thrashed my way from one wall to the other.
Getting off the ground was an important victory, but the never-ending
chase for perfection has only just begun.
As with anything in the endurance sports world, you are chasing measured
improvement each day, and this is no different.
Bettering my form, learning how to efficiently kick, and pushing my
speed are the next items on the agenda.
Before wrapping this up, I’d like to give special
recognition to my coach, Tori, who watched me struggle through the maddening
first steps and continued to encourage me on the toughest days. Without your help, none of this would be
possible.
Whenever you catch yourself saying “I could never do that”,
remember that even the greats started from the same Day One that sits on your
horizon. Life is too short to sit
fearfully on the sidelines of your own dream, so take the first steps toward
your goal and dive right in!
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