Wildflower: The Swim

I'm not one to waste an accidental wrap up, so I started a new post for this chunk of the race. BECAUSE I'M A WRITING / TALKING MACHINE and I WANT YOU TO KNOW EVERYTHING I EVER THOUGHT OR EXPIERENCED AT ALL ON THE DAY.

Okay, check it out: I love swimming. I have no issues with this part of the triathlon, and long for the day I can feel the same way about the others. Last night while doing my mile and a half in the pool, I spent a lot of time with this thought going around and around: "Man, this shit is so EASY! It's like walking. Seriously, I could do this forever. Seriously. It's like if this pool had a sidewalk, I'd be on it. On a Sunday afternoon." This might TECHNICALLY be referred to as hubris, but if it makes you feel better, the swimming is the shortest part of any tri, so my victory is practically defined by its brevity. Did that sentence make sense? I've had a beer.
The POINT is I'm actually on the fence about making a bike jersey that says "I'd rather be swimming."

Because I wasn't able to get to camp early on Friday, I wasn't able to check out the swim course (a big 1 mile rectangle in the water) with the rest of the team. This meant that when the pro men started at 8 am, I was up on a hill watching them to see where the first turn was - after that it would just be a matter of following the buoys.
Tri swim starts are the strangest thing - a combinaton of running, diving, clawing, swimming and churning that has almost nothing to do with your actual swimming ability. How does standing in a crush of 100 people and then swim-sparring with them 'til the pack thins out enough for you to actually just SWIM translate to "I'm better at this athletic skill than you?" Aberrant but I suppose a space shuttle of adrenalin.

My wave - Women 25 to 29, I think - wasn't until 9:15, so I still had another 45 minutes of truely aimless anxiety, and a good 30 minutes after that of directed anxiety, standing near the swim start with my teammates. We stood on the boat launch ramp and watched most of our guy teammates make their way out of the water, running up the ramp while stripping out of their wetsuit and over to their bikes. People looked ROUGH coming up that ramp, which was a nice icing on my jitters. But I should say, I loved standing with my wet suit half on, my goggles and cap tucked into the flap where the upper half of the suit hung from my stomach, recognizing what it feels like to be waiting for a whistle. I loved it the same way I love wearing a walkie on set, or a headset backstage - it's just the edge of pomp and the accoutrement of a culture that means you're part of something, and having an experience that not everyone gets to have. It's so fun.

I mentioned zipping up as a ritual before - I've taken too many dramaturgy and performance history courses not to consciously relish the costume changes of tri, most especially this first one. If endurance sport has a locus, it must be the body itself - through water and over roads, it's the one true & constant place where the phsyical runs into the mental, and you find how they are related, allowing each other their possibilities. Zipping up a full body wetsuit, in contact with all of yourself, is a tremendous feeling of being held in - everything that will make the day possible is in containment and waiting. Then you stand, covered in neoprene but with the most basic silhouette possible, a strange accessorized basic body, with your extremities and head au naturel. And then you get one more ritual! Putting on the cap and the goggles - and then fiddling with them. Now you look alien at best and goofy at worst, and you are and aren't your desk-sitting self.

My pack had green caps to distinguish us from the groups before (yellow, Men 50+) and after (lavender, Women 30 - 35). After the group ahead was signaled off, we wandered down to the water line, and were given five minutes to swim to the end of the dock, swim back, and stand back on shore. This is nice, the first phsyical activity you have had in 18 intense hours of thinking accutely about physical activity, and you get to doggy paddle a bit with the other laydeez. ALSO THIS IS THE BEST TIME TO PEE IN YOUR WETSUIT. What? Yes. You can do it in the race if you want, but this is my preferred time. It helps get a bit warmed up, it's weird enough to be a little distracting, and it's an immense relief. Dirty secrets of the tri community EXPOSED.

What does it mean that by the seventh paragraph I'm still not in the water? OKAY THEY MADE THE WHISTLE AND WE STARTED SWIMMING, all hundred or so of us. I could see the first giant triangle buoy where we were to turn right, and by the time I got there the crush had effectively thinned out - still got a few folks who couldn't orientate, and which I spent a lot of time trying to get on one side or the other of, but mostly it was an open and straight shot. Except that - oh man wow was that long lap out a long lap. I would raise my head to look ahead at the next five or so buoys and could only ever see about..maybe 200 yards out, and was sure I was looking at the next turn. About four times I thought I was coming up on the last buoy, and then I'd get there and find another four buoys peeking out from behind it - knowing not only was I not turning yet, but I'd have to do the same distance again on the lap back. The upside was how FRESH the water was - getting it in my mouth was like cracking open a new and nicely refridgerated bottle of water, it was so clean. I found myself drifting mentally a bit, just enjoying myself - I would start to think about the bike or run, and would have to pull myself back to the swim, and then I'd realize I was auto-swimming, and then I'd wonder if I wasn't pushing my pace as hard as I should. And then you know what? I'D GO EASY ON MYSELF - this is the only part where I have the luxury of it being easy enough that the insane thought I should be going faster (that it's a remote possibility) even occurs, so I try and let myself have a little FUN. It's great!

I passed a fair few yellow caps, which I have to say was encouraging, no matter what the means. By the time I rounded the last house boat to start heading to shore, there was a thin pack of about 8 other girls, and 3 of us got really bunched up and were gently jostling to get ahead for about the last 100 yards. When my fingers finally scraped mud and I got to follow down to bottom with my feet I was chuffed to feel like I still had energy, and plenty of it...the racers around me seemed like they'd had it taken out of them - I take my smarmy superiority where I can, thanks. The strongest memory I have is of my teammate Caroline calling my name from the dock as I was taking my cap off - I saw the camera and realized I needed to smile - I was having fun! And I do love the picture that resulted. I ran up the ramp, stripping my wet suit off, got to see James and Justin and get a weirdo picture snapped while they yelled "Take it off!", and head for my bike, maybe trying not to be sad that the best part was over.

In the end I did the swim in 35 minutes, which is respectable as hell and put me 25th in my age group (out of 80). I can deal with that! I dunno! That time is better than I thought! See the exclamation marks? Get ready for those to go away....bike time...