So this was the biggest and the smallest event that I've done so far. Eight swimmers altogether. Four doing six miles and, I think, two each doing 4 miles and 2 miles. The official water temperature they gave us just before the start was 65 degrees. We suited up, greased up, and we got a group photo just a little before the start. Looking at it now it is not obvious that I am nervous. But I most definitely was.
We got the kayaks launched and the wind pushed them off to the right. The eight of us waded just past knee deep into the water and then, as one, hesitated. I stood there thinking how very cold the water felt and wondering if I could really do 6 miles at this temperature. Then Phil sounded the horn on his boat and it was time to stop being nervous and start swimming. It was a pretty good jumble. As much of a jumble as you can make with only 8 swimmers and 8 kayaks. I just pointed myself at the first buoy and tried not to cause any collisions. I figured wifey, who was my kayaker, would be able to pick me up after the buoy. As it turned out, she picked me right up even before the buoy. As I made the turn and set out for the second buoy I caught a look at one other swimmer already way out ahead of me. That was the last time I saw another swimmer. It was just me and wifey in the kayak. Not exactly typically romantic but I kept thinking how wonderfully sweet it was.
The third bouy was also the one mile mark, and just past it I had my first feed. I had prepared six bottles apple juice, diluted about 50/50. They had around 12oz each. I expected that would be more than I would want at most of my feedings. But when I got the first one, sun warmed and sweet, I eagerly drank every drop.
I got my second feeding at the fourth buoy, which was also the 2 mile mark, and again I drank the whole thing. By the third mile I was actually feeling pretty good. I was beginning to think I could do some real distance at this temperature. When we arrived at the last buoy which was the three mile mark I saw Phil in his boat. I guess he was taking pictures. He asked me how the water was and I told him it wasn't bad. He shouted that it was all downhill from here. I got another feeding and we set off on the return trip.
Downhill, maybe but upwind. In fairness it was not such a terribly strong wind. And the chop it was generating as not all that big. But it was enough to feel a big difference. Mile 4 was considerably more difficult than mile 3. But it was not until the 4 mile mark that I had some real problems. Wifey grabbed the next bottle for feeding but with sunscreen on her hands she could not pop off the little plastic cap. After struggling for a minute we decided that I should give it a try. Wifey came back around and right when she was about to give me the bottle my left calf cramped up. It came on so powerfully I barely had the presence of mind to not grab the kayak. This was a serious, potentially swim ending, cramp. It took me several tries before I finally was able to stretch it out. Right when I thought I had fixed it, it cramped right back up again. I guess the cold water was having more of an effect than I had thought a mile earlier.
Once I finally got my leg sorted out. I got the bottle from wifey and, not being in a mood to mess around, simply bit the cap right off and, once again, drained it. The fifth mile was still upwind and right into the chop. And most of the time I was doing a funny lopsided kick to keep my leg from cramping up. At the 5 mile mark wifey was kind enough to bite the cap off for me for what should be my last feed of the swim. At this point I could feel a colder layer of water just an arms length below the surface. I was afraid to tread water for more than a moment because I thought the colder layer might cause my leg to cramp up again. I think that was the only bottle that I didn't drain. I was starting to feel an empty feeling in my stomach but rather than mess around with more solid food I decided to just bring it home and eat on shore. For most of the last mile I could feel that colder layer below me. My stroke would bring my fingers through it almost every time. The last mile was the only time I bothered to sneak a peak at the next buoy. It was also the only time I swam into the kayak. We finally rounded the last buoy and I didn't even try to make a sprint into shore. I just kept my stroke going, then there were lake weeds reaching up to graze my belly. And then the shore, which never seemed to get any closer was there. I grabbed the ground with both hands and got my feet under me. I waded out of the water to the cheers of the 4 milers and the one 6 miler that I had lost sight of more than three hours back.
Then I made a beeline for the car where I knew I had a chocolate bar.
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