Tuesday, August 28. 2012
Swimming Across Lake Tahoe by Cliff Crozier
Having already swum across the Catalina Channel on two separate occasions, and having been successful circumnavigating Manhattan Island in New York during the Manhattan Island Marathon Swim (MIMS) event, I thought this year I would try something a little different. Instead of an ocean swim, I had heard of others performing long swims in fresh water. I live in land-locked Colorado which means the majority of my training has been, and continues to be at altitude in our scenic lakes and reservoirs. After looking at a few options and speaking to a few other fresh water distance swimmers, I decided to attempt a swim across Lake Tahoe, and to wrap a family vacation around the whole experience.
I struggled at first during the planning process. Were there rules? If so, what were they? What were the generally accepted routes across the lake? Who could I talk to to get a boat and a pilot? Was there a governing body of some kind and would they provide an observer? What were the costs? Some of my questions were answered by a couple of swimmer friends who had completed swims across the lake, but I still had other questions. So, I was thrilled to meet (virtually) Karen Rogers on Facebook who helped set me on the right path. She pointed me to the Lake Tahoe Swimming Society website where I could get more information and register my intent to swim. Once I did that, I was contacted by Jamie Patrick who offered to serve as my adviser, boat pilot AND pace swimmer. Jackpot!
Now, about the swim. I had originally intended to swim at night like others before me had done to take advantage of calm conditions. However I had been monitoring night-time weather conditions leading up to my date with the lake and noticed the nights were cold and breezy. I was concerned about two things. First, I didn't want my sister Andrea and her husband Mel, who would crew for me, to get cold. Second, in the event I got cold in the water, I knew the cool air and wind chill would offer no relief. Jamie brought me full circle by saying if I timed my swim just right, I might actually get a little help from the prevailing southwest afternoon winds. With day-time air temperatures of 80-85F and sunny weather forecast, I decided to begin my swim during the early morning hours, estimating a 10-hour swim overall.
Before dawn on the morning of my swim, my wife Julie drove me, Andrea and Mel from Kings Beach in the north, around the eastern edge of the lake, to Camp Richardson in the south. The moon was low, bright, and just a shade past full on the western horizon just above the Sierra Nevada range. I marveled at the beauty of shimmering moonlight upon the lake's surface and for a few moments, I regretted not swimming that night. I wondered how the moonlight would reflect in a myriad of patterns below the water's surface as I stirred it up into eddies and bubbles with every stroke. That alone, I thought, would've kept me distracted from my physical discomfort and entertained for hours. Ah well.
We arrived at the Camp Richardson boat dock at around 6:30am as the sun rapidly lit up the sky. We parked and walked over to the dock and Jamie was already there, waiting patiently I presumed. He had picked up a nice, new 20' covered pontoon boat which I had rented for the day, and which he had piloted from the north end of the lake to the south end. It was moored to the pier. We loaded all our stuff onto the boat and I began to get prepped to swim. This is usually the part where I realize I forgot to bring something important in my swim bag.
Yep, I forgot to bring a printout of my "Swim and Feeding Plan". Brilliant! With hopes for quick feedings dashed, I stripped down to my jammers while Julie pulled on a latex glove and began to "paint" thick gobs of white zinc oxide all over my backside and nose to protect my skin from hours of exposure to the sun's intense UV rays. With that messy task accomplished, I added a layer of 50 SPF sunscreen to my face, neck and chest; and then another layer of Bag Balm to my chafing areas - arm pits, neck, face, and sides. Speedo jokes may not be appreciated by swimmers, but if there's anything open water marathon swimmers deserve to be heckled for by non-swimmers, it's this curious and amusing practice of lubing up before a swim.
With all that messiness out of the way, and my "feeds" prepared and put away in a cooler, I exited the boat, kissed Julie saying, "I love you!", and walked back down the pier to the beach just a few feet left of the pier. I signaled to Jamie I was ready to swim so he could start the clock. I waded in until I was hip-deep, and then shoved off!
There are two parts of a marathon swim I like most, and one that I like the least. Despite the tightness I often experience, I absolutely treasure the beginning of a swim. It's what I've trained and sacrificed for, and the feeling of cold water on my skin is a remarkably exhilarating sensation. My launch into Lake Tahoe was certainly no exception. But the added sensation this time was what I saw with my eyes. The water was so unbelievably clear and transparent, I could see not only the lake bottom down to 50-100 feet or more, but I saw the lake bottom in great detail - every little rock and crevice; sunglasses and other man-made items inadvertently dropped by other lake dwellers who I imagined, having seen their sunken items below, tried to retrieve them before realizing they were quite safely out of reach.
After about an hour of swimming, I was feeling pretty loose and thought it would be a good time to open it up a little. I increased my stroke rate from my usual low-50 strokes-per-minute (SPM) all the way to 60 SPM which I maintained for maybe another 3 or 4 hours, stopping briefly every 30 minutes to refuel. I was feeling good; better and stronger, in fact, than I've felt on a few other swims. However I knew at some point there would be a price to pay for that extra up-front effort.
Around the 5-hour mark I was beginning to feel a bit of joint and muscle discomfort creeping in. Fortunately, I knew what I needed in terms of nourishment and pain relievers to keep the fatigue from accelerating too quickly throughout my body. Jamie and crew knew exactly what to do to keep me focused and motivated so my mind wouldn't tell me it might be a good time to join them on the boat. It was around this time Jamie asked me to describe my level of comfort in the water on a scale of 1-to-10. He would ask me this question several times over the course of the swim and my answer was always "7". Jamie also asked if he could pace with me. "So polite to ask." I thought. "Of course, get in here!" Mel took over the navigation while Jamie dove in and swam with me.
Not many swimmers have as slow a turnover as I have, however Jamie's is even a shade slower and yet he had no trouble staying by my side the entire time. In addition to the mental boost of having him swim beside me, I now had an opportunity to examine his stroke, his catch, his kick; and sort of compare it to my own. Outside of his longer reach which allows him to push more water, I didn't really see much difference. Like so many pool competitors I had to swim against as an age-grouper, Jaime's a bigger dude with longer arms and bigger feet. Ah well.
This is a good point to explain what I like the least about a long swim. It's roughly Hours 6 through 9; the point where I'm fatigued and suspect I still have a lot of swimming to do to make it to the finish point. It's the point at which I try to "change-up" my stroke, to stretch and work different muscle groups, and last but not least, to keep my mind occupied on other things besides the "why" I'm doing this ridiculously long swim in the first place, and how nice it would be to relax on the boat ("why not"). When I get to a point where making ridiculous rationalizations replaces repetitive dub-step musical beats in my brain, then I know it's time to bring out the "balance sheet". Instead of rationalizing and accepting all the "excuses" that would've led me to quit my swim, I decided to add a second column of compelling "reasons" why I should soldier on to the finish. This whole topic is part of a longer narrative on motivation and is a story unto itself, so I'll save it for another time. Suffice to say the balance sheet is a mental tool I use to keep me swimming and I'll just say it helped me stay the course, and I felt so blessed to have family and friends waiting for us at the north end of Lake Tahoe!
Somewhere along this difficult timeline, James Bond and his entourage rapidly approached us in a speedy boat, sending my crew into a red flag-waving frenzy. "Good!" I thought. Up until now this whole adventure seemed to have lacked a sense of... "adventure". Now before you begin to think I must've been hallucinating, it was a real ski boat rapidly approaching our small slow-moving flotilla. But it wasn't James Bond piloting the boat. It was my friend Mike, and he had his family with him! Apparently, they used Jamie's tracking website at... http://www.openwaterlive.com/cliff on a mobile device to find us so they could bear witness to the excitement of me crawling through the lake at 2mph. But more than that, they came by to lend me a morale boost. But I thought I'd ask for permission to climb aboard their vessel first. Permission denied! I was thrilled when Mike jumped off and swam over to pace with me for a few minutes before swimming back to the boat and speeding off almost as quickly as they had arrived. They would come back around again later to boost my spirits once more. Jamie would also hand piloting duties over to Mel one more time to pace with me as we approached Hour 10, the hour I had thought it would take to complete my swim.
When it comes to measuring time and distance, the mind can be an unreliable partner. For example, I wear a sports wristwatch when I swim in open water, and when I do, my mind sometimes tries to convince me that the watch no longer works. The final hours of my swim involved a tug-o-war between my watch and my water-logged brain. They couldn't agree on how long 30 minutes to the next feed should take (HINT: It's 30 minutes), and it had me checking my watch every 5 or 10 minutes. It's like your kids asking, "Are we there yet?" several times on a long road trip (like the one we all took from Colorado to get here!). I know many open water distance swimmers don't wear watches on their swims, probably for this very reason. But because my mind is weak, and despite the fact I feel a need to check on the time every other stroke, the watch stays on!
Distance. What's that phrase? Oh yes, "Don't believe your lyin' eyes." There's nothing quite like the feeling of being a "hamster on a wheel" when you can begin to see your finish beach on the horizon and it never, ever seems to be getting any closer! This is when openness and honesty from the crew can help, and in this case, I had to ask to what extent I was making progress. Jamie and crew assured me we were getting closer and to just keep swimming. I had this same issue last summer crossing Catalina when I couldn't see the haze-shrouded mainland when I thought I should be getting close, and the response from my crew on that occasion was the same, Just keep swimming." Anyway, that's great advice! Why didn't I think of that?
As forecast, the afternoon winds were picking up around the latter part of the swim, slowly transforming the water from flat, transparent glass into a glossy blue surface of tiny ripples. Jamie had been navigating us into position to capitalize on a prevailing southwest breeze by pointing us slightly to the west of our finish point and then arcing in towards it so we would have the wind and waves at our back, pushing us all the way in to shore. Training here in the mountain lakes of Colorado has afforded me opportunities to swim in all kinds of weather conditions, with wind and waves coming at me from all directions. So I can say that having wind and waves at your back pushing you along is fastest by far, causes less impact and stress on the body, and is much more fun. But on this afternoon something wasn't quite right. First, the afternoon wind took it's time getting organized and, and at first, began lightly blowing in from the north directly against us! It only lasted for a brief period before turning calm once again so it's impact seemed minimal to me. Later, a stronger breeze with larger waves arrived at our location, approaching at an angle from my left, which is the side I typically breathe on. This condition didn't bother me too much either, and Jamie positioned the boat to my left which mitigated much of the potential impact. I did eventually benefit from the wind and wave pattern as we continued making our slow northeastward turn towards Hyatt Beach.
I don't know how other open water distance swimmers define the final leg of their swims, but the moment I see the finish area, and I can actually see my own forward progress as the scene comes into full view, it's at that point I know I'm almost done, and it's my other favorite part of a marathon swim. And just knowing my family, a few close friends, and my kids were waiting for us made me very happy indeed! Traffic from other watercraft was also increasing, another encouraging sign. I could hear the sounds of their motors humming along and see my crew frantically waving their red flags again like enthusiastic performers on a high school drill team. Once again, as at the south end of the lake, I could begin to see the bottom long before I would ever touch shore. Once again, I experienced it in great clarity and detail, with man-made items lost long ago, and boulders of every size and shape, resting in randomly scattered patterns across the lake floor. As I approached boats and jet skis moored just outside a buoy line, Jamie repositioned the boat to my immediate right and motioned me in closer to the boat for safety. He navigated as close as possible to the buoy line leading to shore to reduce the chance of a jet ski or boat crossing our path; just one of the many times I felt grateful to have his support!
It was at that point I was joined by another escort entourage... my kids! They had swum to the outer edge of the swim area on my left side to swim me in the rest of the way. And once I reached the beach and could get my legs steadied under me, I saw that family and friends were there to cheer my accomplishment. It was a powerfully joyous moment! My final time was 11 hours and 9 minutes - my longest swim to-date in terms of length of time in the water. I was of course exhausted and glad to be done, but wow, what a great way to finish a long swim in such a beautiful place as Lake Tahoe, a place we would call "home" for a few more days as we explored the lake and surrounding area with family and the best of friends!
I struggled at first during the planning process. Were there rules? If so, what were they? What were the generally accepted routes across the lake? Who could I talk to to get a boat and a pilot? Was there a governing body of some kind and would they provide an observer? What were the costs? Some of my questions were answered by a couple of swimmer friends who had completed swims across the lake, but I still had other questions. So, I was thrilled to meet (virtually) Karen Rogers on Facebook who helped set me on the right path. She pointed me to the Lake Tahoe Swimming Society website where I could get more information and register my intent to swim. Once I did that, I was contacted by Jamie Patrick who offered to serve as my adviser, boat pilot AND pace swimmer. Jackpot!
Now, about the swim. I had originally intended to swim at night like others before me had done to take advantage of calm conditions. However I had been monitoring night-time weather conditions leading up to my date with the lake and noticed the nights were cold and breezy. I was concerned about two things. First, I didn't want my sister Andrea and her husband Mel, who would crew for me, to get cold. Second, in the event I got cold in the water, I knew the cool air and wind chill would offer no relief. Jamie brought me full circle by saying if I timed my swim just right, I might actually get a little help from the prevailing southwest afternoon winds. With day-time air temperatures of 80-85F and sunny weather forecast, I decided to begin my swim during the early morning hours, estimating a 10-hour swim overall.
Before dawn on the morning of my swim, my wife Julie drove me, Andrea and Mel from Kings Beach in the north, around the eastern edge of the lake, to Camp Richardson in the south. The moon was low, bright, and just a shade past full on the western horizon just above the Sierra Nevada range. I marveled at the beauty of shimmering moonlight upon the lake's surface and for a few moments, I regretted not swimming that night. I wondered how the moonlight would reflect in a myriad of patterns below the water's surface as I stirred it up into eddies and bubbles with every stroke. That alone, I thought, would've kept me distracted from my physical discomfort and entertained for hours. Ah well.
We arrived at the Camp Richardson boat dock at around 6:30am as the sun rapidly lit up the sky. We parked and walked over to the dock and Jamie was already there, waiting patiently I presumed. He had picked up a nice, new 20' covered pontoon boat which I had rented for the day, and which he had piloted from the north end of the lake to the south end. It was moored to the pier. We loaded all our stuff onto the boat and I began to get prepped to swim. This is usually the part where I realize I forgot to bring something important in my swim bag.
Yep, I forgot to bring a printout of my "Swim and Feeding Plan". Brilliant! With hopes for quick feedings dashed, I stripped down to my jammers while Julie pulled on a latex glove and began to "paint" thick gobs of white zinc oxide all over my backside and nose to protect my skin from hours of exposure to the sun's intense UV rays. With that messy task accomplished, I added a layer of 50 SPF sunscreen to my face, neck and chest; and then another layer of Bag Balm to my chafing areas - arm pits, neck, face, and sides. Speedo jokes may not be appreciated by swimmers, but if there's anything open water marathon swimmers deserve to be heckled for by non-swimmers, it's this curious and amusing practice of lubing up before a swim.
With all that messiness out of the way, and my "feeds" prepared and put away in a cooler, I exited the boat, kissed Julie saying, "I love you!", and walked back down the pier to the beach just a few feet left of the pier. I signaled to Jamie I was ready to swim so he could start the clock. I waded in until I was hip-deep, and then shoved off!
There are two parts of a marathon swim I like most, and one that I like the least. Despite the tightness I often experience, I absolutely treasure the beginning of a swim. It's what I've trained and sacrificed for, and the feeling of cold water on my skin is a remarkably exhilarating sensation. My launch into Lake Tahoe was certainly no exception. But the added sensation this time was what I saw with my eyes. The water was so unbelievably clear and transparent, I could see not only the lake bottom down to 50-100 feet or more, but I saw the lake bottom in great detail - every little rock and crevice; sunglasses and other man-made items inadvertently dropped by other lake dwellers who I imagined, having seen their sunken items below, tried to retrieve them before realizing they were quite safely out of reach.
After about an hour of swimming, I was feeling pretty loose and thought it would be a good time to open it up a little. I increased my stroke rate from my usual low-50 strokes-per-minute (SPM) all the way to 60 SPM which I maintained for maybe another 3 or 4 hours, stopping briefly every 30 minutes to refuel. I was feeling good; better and stronger, in fact, than I've felt on a few other swims. However I knew at some point there would be a price to pay for that extra up-front effort.
Around the 5-hour mark I was beginning to feel a bit of joint and muscle discomfort creeping in. Fortunately, I knew what I needed in terms of nourishment and pain relievers to keep the fatigue from accelerating too quickly throughout my body. Jamie and crew knew exactly what to do to keep me focused and motivated so my mind wouldn't tell me it might be a good time to join them on the boat. It was around this time Jamie asked me to describe my level of comfort in the water on a scale of 1-to-10. He would ask me this question several times over the course of the swim and my answer was always "7". Jamie also asked if he could pace with me. "So polite to ask." I thought. "Of course, get in here!" Mel took over the navigation while Jamie dove in and swam with me.
Not many swimmers have as slow a turnover as I have, however Jamie's is even a shade slower and yet he had no trouble staying by my side the entire time. In addition to the mental boost of having him swim beside me, I now had an opportunity to examine his stroke, his catch, his kick; and sort of compare it to my own. Outside of his longer reach which allows him to push more water, I didn't really see much difference. Like so many pool competitors I had to swim against as an age-grouper, Jaime's a bigger dude with longer arms and bigger feet. Ah well.
This is a good point to explain what I like the least about a long swim. It's roughly Hours 6 through 9; the point where I'm fatigued and suspect I still have a lot of swimming to do to make it to the finish point. It's the point at which I try to "change-up" my stroke, to stretch and work different muscle groups, and last but not least, to keep my mind occupied on other things besides the "why" I'm doing this ridiculously long swim in the first place, and how nice it would be to relax on the boat ("why not"). When I get to a point where making ridiculous rationalizations replaces repetitive dub-step musical beats in my brain, then I know it's time to bring out the "balance sheet". Instead of rationalizing and accepting all the "excuses" that would've led me to quit my swim, I decided to add a second column of compelling "reasons" why I should soldier on to the finish. This whole topic is part of a longer narrative on motivation and is a story unto itself, so I'll save it for another time. Suffice to say the balance sheet is a mental tool I use to keep me swimming and I'll just say it helped me stay the course, and I felt so blessed to have family and friends waiting for us at the north end of Lake Tahoe!
Somewhere along this difficult timeline, James Bond and his entourage rapidly approached us in a speedy boat, sending my crew into a red flag-waving frenzy. "Good!" I thought. Up until now this whole adventure seemed to have lacked a sense of... "adventure". Now before you begin to think I must've been hallucinating, it was a real ski boat rapidly approaching our small slow-moving flotilla. But it wasn't James Bond piloting the boat. It was my friend Mike, and he had his family with him! Apparently, they used Jamie's tracking website at... http://www.openwaterlive.com/cliff on a mobile device to find us so they could bear witness to the excitement of me crawling through the lake at 2mph. But more than that, they came by to lend me a morale boost. But I thought I'd ask for permission to climb aboard their vessel first. Permission denied! I was thrilled when Mike jumped off and swam over to pace with me for a few minutes before swimming back to the boat and speeding off almost as quickly as they had arrived. They would come back around again later to boost my spirits once more. Jamie would also hand piloting duties over to Mel one more time to pace with me as we approached Hour 10, the hour I had thought it would take to complete my swim.
When it comes to measuring time and distance, the mind can be an unreliable partner. For example, I wear a sports wristwatch when I swim in open water, and when I do, my mind sometimes tries to convince me that the watch no longer works. The final hours of my swim involved a tug-o-war between my watch and my water-logged brain. They couldn't agree on how long 30 minutes to the next feed should take (HINT: It's 30 minutes), and it had me checking my watch every 5 or 10 minutes. It's like your kids asking, "Are we there yet?" several times on a long road trip (like the one we all took from Colorado to get here!). I know many open water distance swimmers don't wear watches on their swims, probably for this very reason. But because my mind is weak, and despite the fact I feel a need to check on the time every other stroke, the watch stays on!
Distance. What's that phrase? Oh yes, "Don't believe your lyin' eyes." There's nothing quite like the feeling of being a "hamster on a wheel" when you can begin to see your finish beach on the horizon and it never, ever seems to be getting any closer! This is when openness and honesty from the crew can help, and in this case, I had to ask to what extent I was making progress. Jamie and crew assured me we were getting closer and to just keep swimming. I had this same issue last summer crossing Catalina when I couldn't see the haze-shrouded mainland when I thought I should be getting close, and the response from my crew on that occasion was the same, Just keep swimming." Anyway, that's great advice! Why didn't I think of that?
As forecast, the afternoon winds were picking up around the latter part of the swim, slowly transforming the water from flat, transparent glass into a glossy blue surface of tiny ripples. Jamie had been navigating us into position to capitalize on a prevailing southwest breeze by pointing us slightly to the west of our finish point and then arcing in towards it so we would have the wind and waves at our back, pushing us all the way in to shore. Training here in the mountain lakes of Colorado has afforded me opportunities to swim in all kinds of weather conditions, with wind and waves coming at me from all directions. So I can say that having wind and waves at your back pushing you along is fastest by far, causes less impact and stress on the body, and is much more fun. But on this afternoon something wasn't quite right. First, the afternoon wind took it's time getting organized and, and at first, began lightly blowing in from the north directly against us! It only lasted for a brief period before turning calm once again so it's impact seemed minimal to me. Later, a stronger breeze with larger waves arrived at our location, approaching at an angle from my left, which is the side I typically breathe on. This condition didn't bother me too much either, and Jamie positioned the boat to my left which mitigated much of the potential impact. I did eventually benefit from the wind and wave pattern as we continued making our slow northeastward turn towards Hyatt Beach.
I don't know how other open water distance swimmers define the final leg of their swims, but the moment I see the finish area, and I can actually see my own forward progress as the scene comes into full view, it's at that point I know I'm almost done, and it's my other favorite part of a marathon swim. And just knowing my family, a few close friends, and my kids were waiting for us made me very happy indeed! Traffic from other watercraft was also increasing, another encouraging sign. I could hear the sounds of their motors humming along and see my crew frantically waving their red flags again like enthusiastic performers on a high school drill team. Once again, as at the south end of the lake, I could begin to see the bottom long before I would ever touch shore. Once again, I experienced it in great clarity and detail, with man-made items lost long ago, and boulders of every size and shape, resting in randomly scattered patterns across the lake floor. As I approached boats and jet skis moored just outside a buoy line, Jamie repositioned the boat to my immediate right and motioned me in closer to the boat for safety. He navigated as close as possible to the buoy line leading to shore to reduce the chance of a jet ski or boat crossing our path; just one of the many times I felt grateful to have his support!
It was at that point I was joined by another escort entourage... my kids! They had swum to the outer edge of the swim area on my left side to swim me in the rest of the way. And once I reached the beach and could get my legs steadied under me, I saw that family and friends were there to cheer my accomplishment. It was a powerfully joyous moment! My final time was 11 hours and 9 minutes - my longest swim to-date in terms of length of time in the water. I was of course exhausted and glad to be done, but wow, what a great way to finish a long swim in such a beautiful place as Lake Tahoe, a place we would call "home" for a few more days as we explored the lake and surrounding area with family and the best of friends!
Thursday, June 16. 2011
"Por La Libre" Open Water Swim, Isla Mujeres to Cancun, Mexico. By Jim Kaszynski
I am excited and nervous as I prepare for my 10k swim from the island of Isla Mujeres to Cancun, Mexico. At the mandatory orientation meeting, Chairman Rafael Hernandez, Director de Mercadotecnia of Starc Producciones asked me "have you been practicing?" I said "yes, but last week I went to the beach to try a new swim stroke and met a pretty girl and forgot all about getting in the water." He just smiled.
But, I vowed six months ago to make this swim, and have practiced my swimming daily and even quit smoking....for now. So, for this 66 year old, my mental strength is at its best. The physical part of me is in question. As I write this in real time I will tell you what is really going on in my head. I will not edit this after the race. In other words, if I do not get eaten by sharks, or take too many gulps of sea water, this adventurous story will continue.
It's Thursday night at the informational meeting. Everything is in Spanish, "no hablando Spanish! " But, I have questions and am overwhelmed with fear and confusion."What if " precedes every thought I have in my head. Then, Rafa, a friend of mine, comes up to me and asks "are you OK? " I must of looked a little shell shocked. But, talking with him helped my panic to start to dwindle. He says "don't worry there are many non-professionals in the competition, you will be ok." He gave me some advice on how to maneuver thru current on the first phase of the swim. He said "once you get to the underwater museum, it should be clear sailing after that." He assured me if I have a problem there will be boats to pick me up.
Now I am going to try describe the thinking that started to overcome me. All of a sudden I started to feel at peace and yet excited. Still with a good fear, but it felt almost orgasmic, almost like I did when I drank and used drugs, but without the shame and guilt. This is something new for me, but I like it ! I guess you could say it`s getting high on life "la..natural."
The rules are pretty relaxed for us rookies. We can take a break on one of the floating buoys, but a swimmer must pass between the markers. One can flag down a boat if a drink of water is needed, and it is ok to touch the boat. Also, at any time a swimmer can hop into the boat and call it quits. Oh, but I would be so embarrassed if that happens to me!
I have been told that for us non-professional swimmers we allowed to use fins. At this point I have not decided to add web feet to my wardrobe. I haven`t practiced with fins. I am asking myself, ``Would that make me look like a wimp?`` You see, I thought we had the five hours to complete the swim. It is actually four and a half. I guess that means less breaths and more strokes.
Friday morning... 4:00 am. I slept well but got up way too early. I am excited, got my camera and all my supplies ready. Trying to relax today. I am required to go to the boat launch sight. They are going to paint a number on my arm. I guess it's if they find my remains and then they can somehow identify me. Does this mean I can`t take a shower tonight? I hope not, I do not want to smell funny for all the beautiful fish.
Now, I have called a cab for tomorrow morning to take me to the boat that will take all 500 of us to the island. Tomorrow's plan is to wake up at 3:00 am, cab pick up 4:00 am, and then take a boat from Cancun to the island at 6:00 am. Swim starts at 7 30. I hope, I will arrive in Cancun at noon. Awards are at one pm. But, I am not expecting one, just hope to hold my own.
Friday....went to the official body marking festivity. This was an event in it self. They wrote my number on my back, both arms, hands and both legs. All I kept thinking was if I get eaten one of the sharks my remaining pieces I presume would have my number on it. I suppose I should notify my next of kin and tell them I am number 1387. I am really not worried about the sharks. I know all of them....but one.
They were expecting 500 swimmers but so far it is up to 900 and 60 kayak entrees. These swimmers are very cheerful energizing people who are very supportive of one another. Everyone seams to know they are competing with themselves. Their intention is to have fun and just finish.
I introduced myself to as many swimmers that I could at least the ones that spoke English. Most of them did. I have found most of these swimmers from around the world is well educated, employed people who have a hobby of staying in good health. They are enthusiastic about life and family.
As I took off my shirt to get my numbers painted on my body. I felt somewhat embarrassed to show my tan-less body thinking this is a sure sign of not practicing enough. Surrounded by hundreds of muscular body's, both male and female. I asked myself "what am I was doing here?" Then realizing the problem is not them but me with doubt about my self image. The more people I talked to and the more support I got, my fear started to leave. This 66 year old started to reassure my confidence that "I can make it."
All the swimmers were invited to a healthy dinner at "Carlos and Charles," a well-known restaurant in the hotel zone in Cancun. On my way I meet David Ortega and his wife from Mexico City. This was his 15th year of swimming and his 100th competition. He said "every time I do this I get more excited ! Every swim is different depending on the conditions." He added " It's a good brake from my job and I always feel better when it is over." Hi wife added " I am his cheering section, it is like a vacation for me."
At this point I am still debating whether I should use fins. I asked David " I want your honest opinion should I use fins?" He said " No just go for it and do your best." OK, decision made ....no fins.
At the dinner I sat next to two sisters who are relativity new to open water swimming. Ana Lucia Munoz and Lilana Munoz Garcia both from Mexico. Ana has been swimming for five years and this was her 3ed competition. Lilana, three years of practice and her 1 st official swim. Ana said "Today is my birthday and this swim is a good way to celebrate! I practice five to six days a week. Every time I do I increase my psychical and mental strength. This carry's over to my personal and business life." Her sister added "Since this is my first, I am really nervous. Especially knowing my family will be here to cheer us on. I do not want to let them down."
I made my way back home to Puerto Morelos about 15 miles south of Cancun. All of a sudden I became starved for more food even though I just had a dinner. So I ordered a pizza with everything on it. I ate the whole thing. Probably not a good choice on "the night before." Well as I finish writing this report I must get some sleep. My alarm is set for three am. I will go to bed visualizing me completing the 10k swim.
Its Saturday morning,... feel well and very excited and nervous. Have everything ready to go. It is now 4 18 a.m. the cab is three minutes late. I start to panic and call Emilio, my driver "Where are you?" He said "a few blocks away." I took a sigh of relief. Well ,more later!
It is Saturday evening, just got home. Well my day did not go as planned but was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Here is what happened. I will write this tonight and over the next few days.
Arrived at the launching sight for the boat to take all swimmers from Cancun to the island of Isla Mujeres at
five am. Had an opportunity to meet the two sisters from the dinner last night and their family {their
groupies}...great people!
As a thousand swimmers and fan gather for the boat launch the crowd was unexpectedly silent. Everyone carefully listing to the FINA official go over the rules. I had no idea what they were talking about. I asked one of my swim friends if there was anything I need to know? He said "yes, the markings on the back of your legs tell you what group your in. You are in the first group to jump in the water." I guess the slow ones start out first.
As I click away to get as many photos that tell a story. I watch what everyone is doing. So, I do the same. I put on my sun block, adjust my goggles for a good fit. Then try on my beautiful swimming cap and stretch my mussels. Like that is going to make a difference at this point. I made arrangements for someone to take my camera right before I take the plunge. I will pick it up on the other end. Got some great photos and video on our 45 minute trip to the island. The trip was beautiful. The sun was rising and in the distant horizon you could see the shadow of the island. Then as night turned into day you could see the vegetation on the floor of the sea through the crystal clear blue water.
The ship arrived on the peer. They called for the first group to line up and stand on the peer. We did and again no one was talking. One official announced "you are not allowed to ware a watch." This would really mess me up because my whole game plan was on a time duration. He then corrected himself and said watches are OK. We all walked to the end of the peer and jumped in the water and waited for the whistle to blow. By this time most of the kayaks had taken off. The sweet but scary sound of the whistle came and we were off.
We were warned about how strong the current would be and they were right. I started out fast and slowly got into my pace. From now on it's a head game. My logic kept telling me to swim toward the little hotel I
could barley see in the distance. Swimmers were passing me by but I was OK with that. I was going to stick to my plan to take it easy and last the four and a half hours, which was my top goal, the second promise to myself was to finish the 10k.
After an hour I noticed I was all alone. One of jet skis came to me and said {they all spoke English} "you are going the wrong direction you do not want to end in Cuba do you?" I said "No but I have never been their. I think it's only about 100 miles from Cancun." I changed my position.They laughed as they speed away to check the next lost swimmer.
I started to figure it out, my logic was wrong. I do not swim towards the finish spot. I had to swim in a 90 degree angle to my left so the current would put me in the right direction. I probably wasted 30 minutes to learn this lesson.
It is now two hours into the swim. I am not tired. Still very confident but start thinking about where I would be if I was using the fins? Oh, cant think about those things those thoughts could put doubt in my mind. I have to concentrate on my swim, my time. I see a boat approaching me. They ask "Are you OK, do you want to get in the boat?" I said "No I am fine." He said "You are a good swimmer but I have been watching you for 20 minutes and you only moved ten feet." I answered "At least I am going the right direction, I am making progress." We then both started to sing "Row...Row...Row, your Boat" he then shook his head and left.
I continued feeling very much at peace. No fear of sharks, drowning or getting lost...again. All of a sudden I see this huge ship quickly coming toward me. It was gray in color and when it got closer I could see Policia on the side. They were yelling at me, I think... saying "you cant swim here." I said jokingly "I am not swimming here!... I am on my way to Cancun." I think they understood because they did not smile. They were getting ready to throw a lifesaver tube to me as I keep telling them "no problemo." Quickly from the North I see my bodyguards on the jet ski pull up to the federallies and explain to them about the old man who thinks he can make it to Cancun. They all give me thumbs up as they speed away.
"For my next hour I modified my strokes. Swim, breast, back and side strokes. I lost my goggles which I was not using anyway. But I did want to see the famous underwater museum which I would be swimming over soon. I
could take a break, but if I did the current would again push me way of course. So I had to keep on surging. Time is going very slow, two and a half hours in. My brain is wandering thinking about my past and other challenges I was in. Remembering one competition I was in {when I was younger} when they had a marathon contest called a "Handathon." you put your hand on a truck and the last one standing wins the truck.
I tried to reminisce on my mental condition not the event but my frame of mind. What was I thinking? Before I out lasted everyone for 94 hours and 20 minutes before I won the truck. I continued with my thoughts about how many years ago I overcame an addiction problem and was in a wheelchair for two years because of a back problem. I am also a survivor of prostate Cancer. These issues were racing through my mind. Not the problems but how I worked through them. I kept telling myself. This swim challenge is an opportunity to use those experience's and draw strength to finish this swim.
This helped me to go back to that "controlled energy moment." I was now their, in my head and heart. I see a large boat and Cancun looks close. All of a sudden I felt a new energy I feel proud, I will make it to Cancun !
As I approached the boat it took me ten minutes to go the last ten feet. It is now three hours. I asked how much futher to Cancun? They said "This is the 3k finish point. I said "Excuse me." He said "look behind you, see how big the building's look." He added "Now look at Cancun see how small the buildings look." So I quickly calculated that at the rate I was swimming I would be in Cancun by the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012. I still was not tired and told him I want to keep on going. He said "Sorry according to the rules {In Spanish} that you signed we cant let you continue.You are just to far behind."
I felt disappointed, I failed! Till....I got on the boat it was filled with people who did not complete the 3k and the 10k swim. So maybe it's not all that bad with me making the 3k after all. The rough seas were a challenge for all the swimmers. Out of the 902 swimmers who started only 318 finished. Now how about the 318 who did finish. The winner did it in two and a half hours. WOW....they live by the principle of "How do you get to Carnegie Hall," practice, practice...practice.
On the way back we kept picking up the exhausted swimmers. This was a big boat and it was rocking back and forth. I saw several people, sea sick with their head hanging over the side trying to feed the fish with the good dinner we had the night before.
The boat took us about 200 yards away from the finishing point so we all swam in and got our congratulations. Everyone who participated received a ribbon with a medallion. All the swimmers were invited to a scrumptious buffet lunch. The awards followed.
Life's lessons....are learned by success and failure. Most people archive nether, many live in a stalemate ! Bottom line is we are meant to be happy. If were not we must do something different....change something ! Right or wrong.... success or failure growth cannot happen if you do not try. This was a blast and what a revaluation I possessed...again.
Stay tuned for my next adventure. I am soon on my way to Thailand to volunteer for one year.
Jim Kaszynski......."The Idea Man" ........P.S. Please try this at home !
To get the full visual effect of the swim, check out my short video on utube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wb70oB55lSQ
Thursday, June 11. 2009
Swims at Simonton Lake by Rhonda Wagner
5:30 AM, Simonton Lake, Indiana
There is a group of us that meet early in the morning before work to swim in the lake.
I have to admit, the first few times I pulled up to the lake in the dark and slowly eased into the dark water, with only a few distant house lights as guides, it was a bit unnerving. It is as though the water itself is black liquid emptiness.
In a way, this can help you focus on your form. As soon as you get into your breathing rhythm, there are no distractions. Siting is easy as you focus far across the lake to to other side where the green light is next to two larger lights. After a few minutes, you are gliding effortlessly across the empty, quiet calm.
At Simonton Lake, if you swim the perimeter, you will always be able to stop and stand if you want to to. For those of us swimming across the lima bean-shaped lake in a tangent to try to make it to the other side in the shortest distance, there will be no opportunities to stand once under way. It's just as well. Why break your stride once you settle into a pace.
As the dawn slowly comes up, and you are pulling through the clear water, gradually you can start to see your hands underwater, pulling back the bubbles. The light show begins and one by one the houses and trees emerge in your peripheral vision as the birds sing off the sandman.
Our morning swims are just a glorious way to start the day. It's exercise and therapy all in one. And it is never the same. There is always something new to see.
There is a group of us that meet early in the morning before work to swim in the lake.
I have to admit, the first few times I pulled up to the lake in the dark and slowly eased into the dark water, with only a few distant house lights as guides, it was a bit unnerving. It is as though the water itself is black liquid emptiness.
In a way, this can help you focus on your form. As soon as you get into your breathing rhythm, there are no distractions. Siting is easy as you focus far across the lake to to other side where the green light is next to two larger lights. After a few minutes, you are gliding effortlessly across the empty, quiet calm.
At Simonton Lake, if you swim the perimeter, you will always be able to stop and stand if you want to to. For those of us swimming across the lima bean-shaped lake in a tangent to try to make it to the other side in the shortest distance, there will be no opportunities to stand once under way. It's just as well. Why break your stride once you settle into a pace.
As the dawn slowly comes up, and you are pulling through the clear water, gradually you can start to see your hands underwater, pulling back the bubbles. The light show begins and one by one the houses and trees emerge in your peripheral vision as the birds sing off the sandman.
Our morning swims are just a glorious way to start the day. It's exercise and therapy all in one. And it is never the same. There is always something new to see.
Tuesday, May 26. 2009
Lake Travis Trek, by Chuck Wiley
Editor's note: Dr. Keith Bell, Robert Alford, Lynne Smith, Chuck Wiley, David Barra, and Chris Derks. became the first people ever to swim the length of Lake Travis, Texas, approximately 63 miles. Swimming a six-person relay through the night, each swimming 1-hour legs in turn, they completed the Great Travis Trek in 18 hours and 35 minutes. This group was swimming to raise awareness for Swimability, an organization that raises money for the City of Austin Aquatics scholarship fund which pays for swimming lessons for underprivileged children. To donate go to: http://www.greattravistrek.com
We made it through the swim, making it to Mansfield Dam yesterday about noon! We had about a 3 hour delay for heavy lightning after we started Saturday afternoon. Total swim time was about 18hr 45min.
In the beginning, the weather rolled in as we were about to finish the 2nd hour leg. Keith Bell went 1st and Chris Derks was about 7 minutes from finishing the 2nd hour when we decided it was best to pull him and try to seek some shelter. Our safety kayakers marked the spot on the GPS unit and we headed for the boat dock where we'd picked up the pontoon boat that took us upriver from the 46 mile marker to the 54 mile mark where Keith had jumped in.
The water was too low for the 52' support boat we had, and even the pontoon boat couldn't get up the last mile. Keith had to ride up on the back of a jet ski. Anyway, as we were motoring back down river, we were able to contact the other boat and he headed up to meet us, since we were totally exposed on the smaller boat and getting soaked. We transfered people and equipment at about mile 47 and headed back up river to mile 48 where Chris had gotten out. We anchored there and waited out the electrical storms.
After the break, we got back under way about 6:15pm. The decision was made to just have the 3rd swimmer start, rather than have Chris finish the last 7 minutes of his hour. Lynne Smith pulled the 3rd leg, followed by myself, then David Barra, and Robert Alford anchored the 6th. I finished my leg just before sunset, and the clouds broke up for about the last 15 minutes before the sun slipped behind the hills. Then it was pretty dark. There was no moon and the clouds came back to pretty much blot out any star light. It made for an interesting overnight swim.
The bad weather did have one positive effect, it really cut down on the other boat traffic out on the lake. We didn't see many others out overnight. I can tell you my 1:15-2:15 shift was interesting. Like swimming in a sensory deprivation chamber. I did have a glow stick, but couldn't find the pins, so stuck it in the back side of my suit. I found out later that the kayaker couldn't see me at all. Nice. The rain had soaked all the outside seat cushions, so that made trying to find a dry place to stretch out and catch a few winks between shifts difficult. I managed to grab some floor space and sleep about 2 1/2 hours after my 2nd swim.
I was glad the sun was out for my final leg. I jumped in somewhere below the mile 13 channel buoy but before 12. The river channel must really meander back and forth over that area because I remember passing the mile 11 buoy about the middle of my swim and then once back on the boat for about 10 minutes we passed another buoy that I figured must be mile 9 at best. It turned out to be mile 7. Anyway, that certainly made our finish ETA move up quite a bit. I was certain at that point I wouldn't have to get back in for any more, so I just made myself comfortable on the boat and slipped into spectator mode. That, and ate a bunch of the food we had along. It was amazing how low the lake water level was. It's only May, I can't wait until August. The lake may be empty by that time if we don't get more rain. The Pedernales River was almost dry when we passed over it on the way out to the start. I can remember doing training swims up that arm of the lake past the Hwy 71 bridge over which we traveled, and there is no way you could do that today. All the boat docks are sitting on the shore and a little trickle of water seems to make it's way towards the main body of the lake.
Keith did the final leg and swam up and touched the dam just at the edge between the rock/earth part of the dam and the main concrete structure of the dam. It's a good thing we finished early too, because after we unloaded the boat at the park by the dam and got everything loaded into the cars it started raining. And of course, thunderstorms moved in later in the afternoon too.
Friday, October 24. 2008
Chicago Skyline Swim, by Marcia Cleveland
A Lovely Night Spent on the Water, October 2008
Right after our Catalina Island Swim in 2005, David Blanke started asking me about what “our” next swim was going to be. Our Catalina swim had come together when a common friend suggested we do it together. Liz Fry, a long-time friend from Connecticut asked to swim with us, and we became a trio. Our crew for this swim included a highly seasoned group of open water swimmers and kayakers. We were lucky enough to secure kayak escort extraordinaire, Richard Clifford, for the journey. (Visit DoverSolo.com/whatsnew for details of this swim.) I love swimming with David and Liz. Our speeds and personalities are comparable in the water and our crew members are fast friends.
After Catalina, I knew my next major swim was going to be the Chicago Skyline Swim, mainly because I could sleep in my own bed and didn’t have to travel. However, because of the details of my life, I couldn’t commit to when. Between my two young children, my husband who travels often for his job, my current position as Chair of the USMS Open Water Committee, and my own personal business, I finally stopped delaying a date, threw caution to the wind, and told David in the fall 2007, “We’ll do it in the summer of 2008.”
Our Catalina Swim had been the first time 3 swimmers had done Catalina in tandem. Boat pilots are reluctant to allow such swims because the swimmers must stay together, meaning swimming stroke for stroke. Each of us agreed to check our egos before we got on the escort boat to start, and thereby allow the slowest person to set the pace with the realization that this “slowest person” may change throughout the swim. Chicago would be no different except that Liz was in England making a 2-way attempt in the English Channel. In steps Chris Layton, now of Chicago and formerly, like me, from Connecticut. The two of us had swum on the same age group team in the 1970s, the Sharks, and in a pretty amazing coincidence, reconnected at a swim meet in Chicago shortly after I moved here in 2003. He and I started to swim weekly at Ohio Street beach on Saturday mornings three seasons a year, and became quite compatible in and out of the water. Chris was game when I broached the idea of this swim to him in 2006, knowing that we had lots of details to work out, but all in all, “it sounded like a good idea” at least at the time.
As I was well-aware, Chris could, would, and did blow by me in the pool but the Energizer Bunny and I have a lot in common. My moderate speed does not waiver. More importantly, I knew how David swims and I knew Chris would be a good all-around fit as both a strong swimmer and a very pleasant, agreeable person. He had some justified worries that needed hashing out (How am I going to stay up all night? Do you think I can make the distance? What will I eat?) but all in all, I sensed he would be ok.
In my regular life, I usually swim 4 to 5 times a week for a total of 15-20,000 yards week. This keeps me in decent shape and allows me “life balance.” At this point in my life, with each long swim I do, I need to do 30-35,000 yards a week for a sustained 5-6 month period. (For the sake of comparison, when I swam the English Channel in 1994, I swam 45,000 yards a week for nearly a year but that was before I had children.) When I set up my training plan in fall 2007, I planned to sustain my 15-20K through December then ramp it up weekly in January until I was at 30-35K. Ouch. It hurts getting there every time. The fatigue generated from my increased swimming wasn’t something negated by even the largest cup of high-voltage coffee. When Mark was in town, I often went to bed before the kids did. It was funny having my 7 & 10 year olds kissing me good night but then they were still snoozing when I got up at 4am to train. When Mark wasn’t in town, I went to bed about one minute after our children and swam when they were in school. When I trained for Catalina, I was able to go “doubles” (2 practices a day) one to two days a week so each individual session wasn’t super long. This time I didn’t have such a luxury of time so I swam long on two to three days, meaning (7-8000 yards), medium on 2 or three days (5000 yards), and as long as I needed to on the fifth or sixth day to obtain my weekly yardage. It usually worked out as Monday & Wednesdays were 8000 yards, Tuesday, Thursday, and Fridays were 5000 yards, and Saturday was 3-4000 yards. I also stretched and did abdominal/core work daily, or at least that was my intention. (It worked out to ~4 times a week but I should have been more diligent in this department.) Our household help during this training period was limited to a cleaning service every 8-weeks so I was getting plenty of “cross-training” in as well.
Since I do on-line coaching for other aspiring long distance swimmers, I signed myself up as a client and gave myself challenging workouts when I wasn’t working out with the master’s team at Northwestern University. Erica Rose, an American standout in open water swimming who participated in the 2008 U. S. Olympic Trials, told me she did much of her training with fins. Although I had always used fins sparingly, if it was good enough for Erica, it was good enough for me. On my long swim days, I used fins for at least half of my yardage, and occasionally on my shorter days. True to her word, Erica told me that I would be able to get my yardage in faster and there would be less stress on my shoulders, both which proved to be the case. I also started using a swimmer’s snorkel in November 2007 to adjust my head and neck position into a straight line with my spine. Both of these training aides proved essential to the success of the Skyline Swim. I could feel the enhanced power developed in my legs from all the fin work. Every time I started to slip into a less-than-perfectly straight body position, I would assume “snorkel position” from all that practice with that danged plastic tube in my mouth.
The longest swim I did in preparation was 4 hours on July 5th. My swim partner that day, Mike T-H, and I began in 62F rough seas at Foster Beach in Chicago. Bring it on. If I could work out in a washing machine, I would. Neither of us had any difficulties with this course, as we did “gerbil” laps along the beach, laying our minds as ease that boredom would be a factor to overcome. Most weekends, Chris, Mike, and I swam 2 hours in Lake Michigan, along with all the training we were individually doing during the week. During one of my mid-week sessions, when my Gal Friends were done and I still had several thousand yards to go, they were sitting poolside, sunning themselves, chatting it up, and sipping cool drinks. With great amusement, I yelled to them, “Come August 1st, I’m sitting right beside you.” For now, every single yard was important and necessary to me; hence I enjoyed it, well, most of the time.
Between February and July, I trained hard, took care of my family and home, kept up my chairmanship, worked with my clients, and had time for little else. I also began to tell people outside my close inner circle about my summer swim. I’m always careful about such disclosures because I want to do it close enough to the swim date that I am not driven crazy by well-intended questions. To the good fortune of our family, the friends we have made in the Chicago area are salt-of-the-earth, supportive, generous folks. We support one another in so many ways, regardless of whether there is only a vague sense of the subject matter at hand. Several of these great friends showed up at either the start or the finish of the swim, giving us a wonderful exit then entrance to the real world.
The weekend before Showtime approached, I packed for the swim and went over with Mark where everything was. Since Mark and I have done many of these swims together, we determined a feeding schedule. I was confident that he would be fine as my crew and clearly understood the directions. Although David just takes Gatorade during these swims, Chris and I ate the same thing. After the first hour, and every 30 minutes thereafter, I would receive a water bottle with Endurox and a Hammer Gel. As backup, I wanted peanut butter sandwiches. On every 4th feeding, I would receive a scoop of protein powder in my food. For the first few hours, I drank about ¼ to ½ of each presented bottle, ate the gels, and I was fine. After about 4-5 hours, the Endurox was feeling “heavy” in my stomach so Mark began to water it down. I also desired peanut butter sandwiches so Mark gave me ¼ sandwiches in lieu of the gels. I munched a few bites, let the rest fall away from my mouth and got back to swimming. When asked, Mark also delivered Tylenol or Motrin like a Mama bird feeding her babies. The feeds for the three of us took between 1-2 minutes, not lightening fast but not glacially slow, especially with three of us to feed.
Before the swim, I volunteered to make the necessary arrangements with the city authorities so our swim would be “legal,” and we wouldn’t be hauled out down to the police station in the middle of the night in our dripping wet Speedos. I had been in frequent communication with Nial Funchion who, in 2003, became the second person to do this swim. I had spoken with Kevin Murphy about logistics as well; in 2002, Kevin became the first person to do this swim and is the reigning “King of the English Channel,” having completed this famous lap 34 times. Both Nial and Kevin were supportive and helpful, steering our swim right every time I asked for help. We had secured two extremely competent and caring kayakers early on, Richard and Tom. Tom came with the added bonus of being intimately familiar with the coastline of Lake Michigan, especially in Chicago, and he had been Kevin’s escort in 2002. Eventually, we would veer about 50 feet off the course he meticulously plotted with GPS. Swimming alongside his kayak during our trek made me feel like I was following the stripe along the pavement of a running marathon.
Now all we needed were two escort power boats. We had a large Zodiac, piloted by one of Mark’s closest friends, Rob, and his son, Max. David confirmed about a week before our swim date that we could use his sister’s 19’ ski boat, docked in Madison, Wisconsin. The day before our swim, David and his 2 nephews, Paul and Dan, would trailer this final puzzle piece to Chicago from Madison. Getting the two boats we needed was incredibly stressful, time consuming, and potentially expensive. We were all thankful it eventually worked out as well as it did. And boy, were we ever blessed with first-rate boat pilots and kayakers.
Our crew proved to be excellent, both on the water and on land. Since no marathon swim would ever happen without a competent crew, the success of a swim can often be attributed directly to the skill of a crew. From having been in both positions way too many times to count, the job of the swimmer, that is (to shut up and) to swim is a heck of a lot easier than any other position. A crew is collectively responsible for feeding the swimmer the correct food in a timely manner, monitoring the swimmers’ mental and physical condition, keeping a log, tracking the course, dealing with all sorts of weather, receiving verbal abuse from a myriad of sources, conversing with the authorities on the marine radio, and being head cheerleader & chief bottle washer.
Chris volunteered his local teammates to support us on land and we could not have been in better hands. They chauffeured us to the start, carrying gear and keeping us calm. Coupled with my local friends, all of them gave us a wonderful send off from Juneway Beach. I was nervous about staying up all night but I felt very serene as we stepped into the water. Even more comforting was the blessing of several of these same and many new friends came to support our finish and called the boat while we were in the water. Finding Calumet Beach from a land point is no easy feat and I simply didn’t ask how they did it. I just figured that such top-notch friends would have the ability to find us wherever we landed.
Tom’s 5-star wife, Peggy, was incredibly supportive. She drove Mark, David, Tom, and me back to our car parked at the starting line. I have no recollection of the route we took, since I was zoning in and out of exhaustion then suddenly we were at Juneway. She thanked us for being prompt; with Kevin, she had had to wait around in Hammond, Indiana for 8 hours!
Our boat crews were on us the whole night. From the Zodiac, Mark, Rob, and Max handled the feedings and direct contact with us swimmers. When it was time to feed us, Tom and Richard would stop us, the Zodiac would zoom in from behind, feedings prepped and ready, and the pit stop would begin. All the while on the other boat, Joe, Cooky, Dan, and Paul were watching us and listening to the open walkie talkie for what was transpiring. Into the official log, they recorded what each of us ingested (or refused), how we each felt, our position in the lake, and the general happenings occurring at that exact time. A copy is now permanently housed in the International Swimming Hall of Fame as the record of our swim. The collective efforts of these seven crewmates were a major component of our success. To view our complete log, please visit DoverSolo.com/whatsnew.
Before we began, the local ABC TV station interviewed us and we appeared on the 10pm news, then again at 6:45am, via the traffic helicopter, and again at noon, when the newscasters reported our success now nearly 4 hours old. The local paper, Winnetka Talk, also covered the story and ran a front page photo and story in the next issue. What I liked best about this media coverage was that we are normal people, all in our 40s, with jobs and lives and families, and we managed to push ourselves out of our comfort zone to accomplish this goal. It took a lot of planning and even more training but we did it.
Starting the Friday before the swim, I started to get as much sleep as possible. Going from my regular 6+ nightly hours to 8 or 9 felt every bit like the vacation it was intended to be. Over the weekend, I swam at Tower Beach each morning. When Laura Slevin Moriarity caught up with me in the water on Sunday, surprised to see me topless, she laughed when I told her I was doing some “drag training.” On Monday and Tuesday, I swam only for an hour each day, then hung out on my bed and worked on my laptop computer the rest of the day. The plan was to stay off my feet and I actually did, allowing Jessie, our very capable and experienced summertime babysitter, to take over. I loaded up on the calories also, with daily milkshakes of chocolate milk, peanut butter, and bananas. Each and every one of those calories and grams of fat in those special shakes made so much of the previous training worth it.
When I got back from picking up or dropping off someone somewhere, I knew David, Dan, and Paul had arrived on Tuesday afternoon when I saw the boat in front of our house. As difficult as it was to secure a boat, it proved surprisingly easy to launch it from Lloyd’s Beach in Winnetka on Wednesday, a very good sign. Richard and Cooky joined us for dinner on Tuesday, and I really felt like things were falling into place. That night, Chicago had a typically dramatic Mid-Western thunderstorm that probably would have thwarted our efforts if we had been in the lake that night. The same thing happened on Thursday night, leading me to believe that the open water weather gods had sent us an apparent message by granting us clear skies and fairly calm winds on Wednesday night.
For the two days before the swim, I had deprived myself of all caffeine sources, making myself miserable in the process. Therefore the Starbucks Venti (XL) latte two hours before the start truly hit and stayed on the spot for the next 14 hours.
On Wednesday, Mark covered the AM household shift so I could sleep ALAP (L= Long), which wound up to be 8:30am. I ate a regular breakfast and lunch at the appropriate meal times and a PBJ sandwich before we left. Since we were feeding every 30 minutes through the night, there was no need to carry any extra food weight in my stomach. Many marathon swimmers choose to overlook this fact and gorge themselves beforehand and afterwards, something I don’t agree with at all.
It’s always a good sign when one is bored before a swim and that is exactly how David felt on the morning of the swim. His sole amusement seemed to be watching me dart about our house, dealing with my family and home, swearing under my breath, “This is the LAST time I do a swim at home and have to take care of other people on swim day.” Between meal preparations, carpooling, and making sure the kids had what they needed for the next 24 hours, rest I did not. That afternoon, before we took off, I attended “Family Day” at Sam’s camp, drove him home, changed into my suit, packed up the car, and Mark and I set off for the start of this marathon swim; all without the benefit of 48 hours worth of caffeine.
A lot was coming together. David and “the boys” were piloting the boat south from Winnetka to the start. Coming from across the lake, Rob and Max’s were nearly in Chicago, and would anchor at the starting beach. Tom and Richard had worked out the kayaks, gear, and course. Chris and Joe had been picked up at their home by the “Land Crew” and would be at the start when Mark and I arrived. Cooky, blank log in hand, was ready to go for this Chicago night boat cruise. Mark and I made a stop at Starbucks – PHEW! As everyone who wasn’t swimming bustled about, Chris and I were allowed to wait; David was on the boat getting ready.
The kayakers, boats, and crew suddenly all appeared on the water in front of Juneway Beach. It was now time to begin. After the media interviews and the magnificent send-off from friends, David, Chris, and I united on the shore line and marched into the water together to begin our Chicago Skyline Swim. It was 6:52pm on Wednesday July 30, 2008.
Often during the first few moments of a long swim, I ask myself if I really want to be doing this and do I think I can make it? (Truthfully, it often comes out, “What the (insert expletive of choice) are you doing here?”) With all the training and preparation I had done, a serene “Yes” to both is the only answer. (Actually, the answer is really “Shut the (insert expletive of choice) up and swim.”) For those first few hours, the sun was still up in the sky and we were swimming in relatively shallow water so the sandy bottom was clear below us. There was still plenty of “life” happening on the waterfront at this hour so we garnered many waves and cheers from curious onlookers. Tom’s course took us on the straightest tangent possible so we did get close to many piers early on. I looked at the landmarks as we passed: Loyola, several apartment buildings, Hollywood Beach, Foster Beach, gradually shifting my brain from land to water, getting into the non-stop, forever pace.
We also used those early hours of the swim to get everyone situated: boats, kayaks, and swimmers alike. Initially, the ski boat was on the east side. Tom came next and flanked us three swimmers: Chris, me, and David. Richard was on David’s right (west) side, and the Zodiac rounded out our flotilla on the west side. Aside from Chris and me changing places because he preferred the middle, we kept this formation for the duration of the swim. Later into the swim, when not feeding swimmers, the power boats would lag behind to confer and monitor boat traffic, as Tom and Richard competently shepparded us swimmers southward.
Throughout this entire swim, I felt fine. My left shoulder did start to bother me after several hours but it was not unbearable pain and regular Motrin kept it operational. My feeds agreed with me and I felt that they were of the right consistency and coming at the correct frequency.
Around 8:30/9 PM, the sun started to dip and every stroke taken was in one more gradient of darkness. I wanted to hold on to the sun for ALAP (L= long), but letting it go now meant we’d see it on the other side. Even better was the fact that we’d start to see the Chicago Skyline from a night-lit perspective. I also knew that Chris was worried about swimming in the dark so by David and me not deviating from our plan in any way, Chris’s fear could be kept at bay. At our next feeding, Mark gave us all light sticks to put in the straps of our bathing caps in order to track our whereabouts in the dark. Chris and David never touched theirs but leave it to me to fiddle with my equipment if I can. Within an hour, I had maneuvered my light stick right to the bottom of the lake so Mark gave me my next light stick with a safety pin attached, instructing me to attach it to the back of my suit, “And keep your hands off it.” All better and no more fiddling, darn it all.
By 9 PM, it was good and dark. We were north of Navy Pier and had a unique seat to the Wednesday night fireworks. A few hours later, we would swim through the area where the firework ashes had fallen; I like that charred, smoky smell. After the fireworks, we were into the heavy lifting of this swim. For the next 7 hours, it would be very dark. Time to get it done now.
About 4 ½ hours into this swim, Chris started getting sick. His feeds weren’t agreeing with him and combined with the slight chop we had encountered, he felt seasick. So for the rest of the swim, David and I encouraged Chris at every feeding as he either took in a little bit of something, even water, or declined his feed. We told him often, “Just make it to the next feeding. It’s only another 30 minutes.” Then we would set off to swim again. I would usually watch Chris feed the fish in the next few minutes, knowing how mentally and physically badly he was feeling. Both David and I have been there, done that. It’s such an ironic position because here you are, the Superduper Swimmer and something like an upset tummy is defeating you to the point of rock bottom, in your very own element. Cold water can do the same thing; fortunately for us, the water temperature held steadily in the low 70s, making hypothermia a non-factor.
At our feeding sometime around 11pm, Richard became the town crier.
“Chris, Joe says you have to eat something.”
“Marcia, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“David, Leslie called and said to eat more protein and she’s going to bed now and will call again when she wakes up in the morning.” (Leslie is David’s wife and often accompanies him on his long swim but stayed home in Austin, Texas this time with their children.)
I marveled at how technology has allowed so many people to be involved from afar.
One the great things I like about swimming in Lake Michigan is that there is relatively little in the water that one is going to run into when swimming. When I swam in New York and Connecticut, we were forever dealing with seaweed, fish, sea lice, jellyfish, and occasionally, trash in the water. In Chicago, I primarily focus on just the swimming. Mark told me that a large school of fish, possibly perch, was picked up on the radar passing directly below us but that was about as exciting as it got all night. After the swim, one of my east coast friends asked if I had been inundated with jellyfish on my swim, like they were experiencing that summer in the Atlantic waters. I couldn’t resist telling him about the fresh water jellies and the great dark sharks.
“In Lake Michigan, the only jellies to worry about are the 10-foot monster fresh water jellies with 50-foot tentacles that only come out at night. If they sting you, a perverse reaction causes you to sing the Chicago Bears fight song over and over for the next 4 hours. ("Bear Down Chicago Bears…") If you escape these jellies, you must be able to outswim the Great Dark Sharks, the lesser known species related to the Great Whites but far more dangerous due to their voracious appetite for Lycra and Latex. It was a very very dangerous swim and we barely escaped with our lives.”
We were settled into a routine of feedings and swimming. We all swam freestyle but occasionally, I threw in a little backstroke, especially after a feed in order to finish what was in my mouth. Immediately after a feed, we swimmers would set off south without any escort for about a minute. The kayaks would reload anything they needed from the boats then catch up to us. I always felt safe because in those dark waters, it would have been easy to see approaching traffic. The boats would confer together and trail us for about the next 28 minutes when it would be time to feed again. Thus is the exciting life of an open water swim.
After we passed Navy Pier, Tom plotted us to start veering away from shore, following the most direct tangent of the swim. The lit up buildings started to get lose detail and look more like those professional panoramic night shots. I was loving every stroke of it, so appreciative of my ability to be in this spot at this time. It occurred to me that many of the current Olympians in Beijing at this time would not be able to do this swim since it is so different from pool swimming. When we were 8 hours into the swim, I happily informed Tom that I felt sufficiently warmed up and ready to go now. He just smiled at my goofiness.
South of Grant Park, the buildings disappeared and only the dark parkway loomed to our west. Not a problem because I now had in my sights what I thought was an enormous cruise ship. It took me a long while to conclude that #1) people do not take enormous cruise ships around Lake Michigan, #2) this was the water intake plant, visible as only a speck when viewed from South Lake Shore Drive. It was gigantic and had a lot of red lights in grid-patterns. We came within 500 yards of it and I got to wondering if I could be sucked into it, like the Sewage Treatment Plant south of the George Washington Bridge in the Hudson River leg of the Manhattan Island Swim. Since I was on the most eastern side of our assemblage, this was a possibility, especially when you consider that my brain wasn’t functioning at its optimal coherent capacity right now. David was wondering the same thing too but told me later, “I figured you’d be sucked in first so I was safe where I was.” The bottom line here is that we were always safe.
One of the best parts of our swim was just about to happen: DAWN! Watching the sun rise from the water never ceases to amaze me. Today’s day break event didn’t disappoint. I knew we had a very good chance of being successful as a group once that sun rose and pumped some energy into us. Chris was still nauseous but steadier now. He asked for feedings to be every 20 minutes since half hour intervals were becoming unbearable for his arms and stopping felt so good. Of course, the painful price was to start up swimming again after a break. I bargained with him for 25 minutes since David and I could have gone to a 40 minute feeding schedule. When he declined his feed at the first 25 minute stop, I told him sternly that we were stopping for him and therefore he HAD to eat something; he complied.
When we were fed around 5:45am, Mark announced, “Traffic Chopper will be here in 15 minutes.” The Channel 7 ABC newsroom had called to find out if we were still in the water and if so, where were we. Mark later said that giving these directions was one of the highlights of his summer! When the helicopter arrived, I expected it to hover close above us but it was way way up there. They must have some mega-zoom camera since the footage they showed on TV a few minutes later showed us up close, swimming in tandem, and looking strong.
Richard specifically told me, “We are going straight towards the split in that breakwater.” After being called many endearing terms over the years directly linking me to the phrase “Stop looking around, you tourist. Swim!” I took this opportunity to inform Richard, “Looking around isn’t my job, I’m just here to swim.” Smarty pants. To reinforce this descriptive, just before we went through the breakwater, I told Tom, “I’m ready for the main set now.” He laughed out loud.
The breakwater area is like a huge playpen. I knew beforehand that there are some military bases just north of this spot but I had forgotten such trivial information over the past 12 hours. If by chance they were doing underwater testing on explosives that morning, we would have received quite a lift but no such chance today. Within the breakwater, the water temperature went up at least 2 degrees. It was fine for the 1 ¾ miles we had to swim into the beach but such a temperature for the full swim would have been too hot.
There we were: taking stroke after stroke just as we had been doing for the past 12+ hours. Each stroke was bringing us one stroke closer to the beach. Chris thought we would never ever get to the beach. Soon, the sandy bottom appeared again and sea plants were trying to tickle our torsos. The biggest satisfaction and relief was getting inside of the “Swim Area” buoys at Calumet Beach since I knew now that we would finish. Our ground crew was standing in front of the flag pole and the closer we got, the easier it became to distinguish faces. When Chris, David, and I stood up and exited the water, following Channel Rules (“You have to get to where there is no water in front of you”), I was euphoric that we had made it. Our entire armada had worked as a team all night, stayed united, and made this happen.
I didn’t feel tired while we were swimming but once I had walked up the beach then come back into the water to “wash off”, I felt the fatigue. The past 25 miles of swimming and staying up all night caught up in an instance. Heidi, Liz, Peggy, Chip, Jacob, and a few other friends, made sure we were ok and helped us shower and dress. Everyone was fine, just feeling the effects of the effort expended. I vaguely remember Peggy driving us north as I was fading in and out during the drive.
In the afternoon, we took naps then had enough energy to go out to dinner. It was there that David started talking about “our next swim;” I just looked at him amusingly. Who knows when; first we have to figure out the where.
Thank you to all of you who made this swim happen:
Our crew, Mark Green, Rob & Max Carstens, Joe Gray, Cooky Donaldson, Dan & Paul (David’s nephews)
Our Kayakers, Richard Clifford & Tom Heineman
Our amazing Ground Crew and well-wishers, Heidi Kafka, Liz Kooy, Chip Gray, Jacob Karaca, Peggy Heineman, Laura Slevin Moriarity, Kaari Reierson, Susan, Kyle, & Kelly Bertram, Kris Rutford, Julia Green, Leslie Blanke, Robert Zeitner, and everyone else out there cheering us on! All of your support really mattered. Thanks!!!
Right after our Catalina Island Swim in 2005, David Blanke started asking me about what “our” next swim was going to be. Our Catalina swim had come together when a common friend suggested we do it together. Liz Fry, a long-time friend from Connecticut asked to swim with us, and we became a trio. Our crew for this swim included a highly seasoned group of open water swimmers and kayakers. We were lucky enough to secure kayak escort extraordinaire, Richard Clifford, for the journey. (Visit DoverSolo.com/whatsnew for details of this swim.) I love swimming with David and Liz. Our speeds and personalities are comparable in the water and our crew members are fast friends.
After Catalina, I knew my next major swim was going to be the Chicago Skyline Swim, mainly because I could sleep in my own bed and didn’t have to travel. However, because of the details of my life, I couldn’t commit to when. Between my two young children, my husband who travels often for his job, my current position as Chair of the USMS Open Water Committee, and my own personal business, I finally stopped delaying a date, threw caution to the wind, and told David in the fall 2007, “We’ll do it in the summer of 2008.”
Our Catalina Swim had been the first time 3 swimmers had done Catalina in tandem. Boat pilots are reluctant to allow such swims because the swimmers must stay together, meaning swimming stroke for stroke. Each of us agreed to check our egos before we got on the escort boat to start, and thereby allow the slowest person to set the pace with the realization that this “slowest person” may change throughout the swim. Chicago would be no different except that Liz was in England making a 2-way attempt in the English Channel. In steps Chris Layton, now of Chicago and formerly, like me, from Connecticut. The two of us had swum on the same age group team in the 1970s, the Sharks, and in a pretty amazing coincidence, reconnected at a swim meet in Chicago shortly after I moved here in 2003. He and I started to swim weekly at Ohio Street beach on Saturday mornings three seasons a year, and became quite compatible in and out of the water. Chris was game when I broached the idea of this swim to him in 2006, knowing that we had lots of details to work out, but all in all, “it sounded like a good idea” at least at the time.
As I was well-aware, Chris could, would, and did blow by me in the pool but the Energizer Bunny and I have a lot in common. My moderate speed does not waiver. More importantly, I knew how David swims and I knew Chris would be a good all-around fit as both a strong swimmer and a very pleasant, agreeable person. He had some justified worries that needed hashing out (How am I going to stay up all night? Do you think I can make the distance? What will I eat?) but all in all, I sensed he would be ok.
In my regular life, I usually swim 4 to 5 times a week for a total of 15-20,000 yards week. This keeps me in decent shape and allows me “life balance.” At this point in my life, with each long swim I do, I need to do 30-35,000 yards a week for a sustained 5-6 month period. (For the sake of comparison, when I swam the English Channel in 1994, I swam 45,000 yards a week for nearly a year but that was before I had children.) When I set up my training plan in fall 2007, I planned to sustain my 15-20K through December then ramp it up weekly in January until I was at 30-35K. Ouch. It hurts getting there every time. The fatigue generated from my increased swimming wasn’t something negated by even the largest cup of high-voltage coffee. When Mark was in town, I often went to bed before the kids did. It was funny having my 7 & 10 year olds kissing me good night but then they were still snoozing when I got up at 4am to train. When Mark wasn’t in town, I went to bed about one minute after our children and swam when they were in school. When I trained for Catalina, I was able to go “doubles” (2 practices a day) one to two days a week so each individual session wasn’t super long. This time I didn’t have such a luxury of time so I swam long on two to three days, meaning (7-8000 yards), medium on 2 or three days (5000 yards), and as long as I needed to on the fifth or sixth day to obtain my weekly yardage. It usually worked out as Monday & Wednesdays were 8000 yards, Tuesday, Thursday, and Fridays were 5000 yards, and Saturday was 3-4000 yards. I also stretched and did abdominal/core work daily, or at least that was my intention. (It worked out to ~4 times a week but I should have been more diligent in this department.) Our household help during this training period was limited to a cleaning service every 8-weeks so I was getting plenty of “cross-training” in as well.
Since I do on-line coaching for other aspiring long distance swimmers, I signed myself up as a client and gave myself challenging workouts when I wasn’t working out with the master’s team at Northwestern University. Erica Rose, an American standout in open water swimming who participated in the 2008 U. S. Olympic Trials, told me she did much of her training with fins. Although I had always used fins sparingly, if it was good enough for Erica, it was good enough for me. On my long swim days, I used fins for at least half of my yardage, and occasionally on my shorter days. True to her word, Erica told me that I would be able to get my yardage in faster and there would be less stress on my shoulders, both which proved to be the case. I also started using a swimmer’s snorkel in November 2007 to adjust my head and neck position into a straight line with my spine. Both of these training aides proved essential to the success of the Skyline Swim. I could feel the enhanced power developed in my legs from all the fin work. Every time I started to slip into a less-than-perfectly straight body position, I would assume “snorkel position” from all that practice with that danged plastic tube in my mouth.
The longest swim I did in preparation was 4 hours on July 5th. My swim partner that day, Mike T-H, and I began in 62F rough seas at Foster Beach in Chicago. Bring it on. If I could work out in a washing machine, I would. Neither of us had any difficulties with this course, as we did “gerbil” laps along the beach, laying our minds as ease that boredom would be a factor to overcome. Most weekends, Chris, Mike, and I swam 2 hours in Lake Michigan, along with all the training we were individually doing during the week. During one of my mid-week sessions, when my Gal Friends were done and I still had several thousand yards to go, they were sitting poolside, sunning themselves, chatting it up, and sipping cool drinks. With great amusement, I yelled to them, “Come August 1st, I’m sitting right beside you.” For now, every single yard was important and necessary to me; hence I enjoyed it, well, most of the time.
Between February and July, I trained hard, took care of my family and home, kept up my chairmanship, worked with my clients, and had time for little else. I also began to tell people outside my close inner circle about my summer swim. I’m always careful about such disclosures because I want to do it close enough to the swim date that I am not driven crazy by well-intended questions. To the good fortune of our family, the friends we have made in the Chicago area are salt-of-the-earth, supportive, generous folks. We support one another in so many ways, regardless of whether there is only a vague sense of the subject matter at hand. Several of these great friends showed up at either the start or the finish of the swim, giving us a wonderful exit then entrance to the real world.
The weekend before Showtime approached, I packed for the swim and went over with Mark where everything was. Since Mark and I have done many of these swims together, we determined a feeding schedule. I was confident that he would be fine as my crew and clearly understood the directions. Although David just takes Gatorade during these swims, Chris and I ate the same thing. After the first hour, and every 30 minutes thereafter, I would receive a water bottle with Endurox and a Hammer Gel. As backup, I wanted peanut butter sandwiches. On every 4th feeding, I would receive a scoop of protein powder in my food. For the first few hours, I drank about ¼ to ½ of each presented bottle, ate the gels, and I was fine. After about 4-5 hours, the Endurox was feeling “heavy” in my stomach so Mark began to water it down. I also desired peanut butter sandwiches so Mark gave me ¼ sandwiches in lieu of the gels. I munched a few bites, let the rest fall away from my mouth and got back to swimming. When asked, Mark also delivered Tylenol or Motrin like a Mama bird feeding her babies. The feeds for the three of us took between 1-2 minutes, not lightening fast but not glacially slow, especially with three of us to feed.
Before the swim, I volunteered to make the necessary arrangements with the city authorities so our swim would be “legal,” and we wouldn’t be hauled out down to the police station in the middle of the night in our dripping wet Speedos. I had been in frequent communication with Nial Funchion who, in 2003, became the second person to do this swim. I had spoken with Kevin Murphy about logistics as well; in 2002, Kevin became the first person to do this swim and is the reigning “King of the English Channel,” having completed this famous lap 34 times. Both Nial and Kevin were supportive and helpful, steering our swim right every time I asked for help. We had secured two extremely competent and caring kayakers early on, Richard and Tom. Tom came with the added bonus of being intimately familiar with the coastline of Lake Michigan, especially in Chicago, and he had been Kevin’s escort in 2002. Eventually, we would veer about 50 feet off the course he meticulously plotted with GPS. Swimming alongside his kayak during our trek made me feel like I was following the stripe along the pavement of a running marathon.
Now all we needed were two escort power boats. We had a large Zodiac, piloted by one of Mark’s closest friends, Rob, and his son, Max. David confirmed about a week before our swim date that we could use his sister’s 19’ ski boat, docked in Madison, Wisconsin. The day before our swim, David and his 2 nephews, Paul and Dan, would trailer this final puzzle piece to Chicago from Madison. Getting the two boats we needed was incredibly stressful, time consuming, and potentially expensive. We were all thankful it eventually worked out as well as it did. And boy, were we ever blessed with first-rate boat pilots and kayakers.
Our crew proved to be excellent, both on the water and on land. Since no marathon swim would ever happen without a competent crew, the success of a swim can often be attributed directly to the skill of a crew. From having been in both positions way too many times to count, the job of the swimmer, that is (to shut up and) to swim is a heck of a lot easier than any other position. A crew is collectively responsible for feeding the swimmer the correct food in a timely manner, monitoring the swimmers’ mental and physical condition, keeping a log, tracking the course, dealing with all sorts of weather, receiving verbal abuse from a myriad of sources, conversing with the authorities on the marine radio, and being head cheerleader & chief bottle washer.
Chris volunteered his local teammates to support us on land and we could not have been in better hands. They chauffeured us to the start, carrying gear and keeping us calm. Coupled with my local friends, all of them gave us a wonderful send off from Juneway Beach. I was nervous about staying up all night but I felt very serene as we stepped into the water. Even more comforting was the blessing of several of these same and many new friends came to support our finish and called the boat while we were in the water. Finding Calumet Beach from a land point is no easy feat and I simply didn’t ask how they did it. I just figured that such top-notch friends would have the ability to find us wherever we landed.
Tom’s 5-star wife, Peggy, was incredibly supportive. She drove Mark, David, Tom, and me back to our car parked at the starting line. I have no recollection of the route we took, since I was zoning in and out of exhaustion then suddenly we were at Juneway. She thanked us for being prompt; with Kevin, she had had to wait around in Hammond, Indiana for 8 hours!
Our boat crews were on us the whole night. From the Zodiac, Mark, Rob, and Max handled the feedings and direct contact with us swimmers. When it was time to feed us, Tom and Richard would stop us, the Zodiac would zoom in from behind, feedings prepped and ready, and the pit stop would begin. All the while on the other boat, Joe, Cooky, Dan, and Paul were watching us and listening to the open walkie talkie for what was transpiring. Into the official log, they recorded what each of us ingested (or refused), how we each felt, our position in the lake, and the general happenings occurring at that exact time. A copy is now permanently housed in the International Swimming Hall of Fame as the record of our swim. The collective efforts of these seven crewmates were a major component of our success. To view our complete log, please visit DoverSolo.com/whatsnew.
Before we began, the local ABC TV station interviewed us and we appeared on the 10pm news, then again at 6:45am, via the traffic helicopter, and again at noon, when the newscasters reported our success now nearly 4 hours old. The local paper, Winnetka Talk, also covered the story and ran a front page photo and story in the next issue. What I liked best about this media coverage was that we are normal people, all in our 40s, with jobs and lives and families, and we managed to push ourselves out of our comfort zone to accomplish this goal. It took a lot of planning and even more training but we did it.
Starting the Friday before the swim, I started to get as much sleep as possible. Going from my regular 6+ nightly hours to 8 or 9 felt every bit like the vacation it was intended to be. Over the weekend, I swam at Tower Beach each morning. When Laura Slevin Moriarity caught up with me in the water on Sunday, surprised to see me topless, she laughed when I told her I was doing some “drag training.” On Monday and Tuesday, I swam only for an hour each day, then hung out on my bed and worked on my laptop computer the rest of the day. The plan was to stay off my feet and I actually did, allowing Jessie, our very capable and experienced summertime babysitter, to take over. I loaded up on the calories also, with daily milkshakes of chocolate milk, peanut butter, and bananas. Each and every one of those calories and grams of fat in those special shakes made so much of the previous training worth it.
When I got back from picking up or dropping off someone somewhere, I knew David, Dan, and Paul had arrived on Tuesday afternoon when I saw the boat in front of our house. As difficult as it was to secure a boat, it proved surprisingly easy to launch it from Lloyd’s Beach in Winnetka on Wednesday, a very good sign. Richard and Cooky joined us for dinner on Tuesday, and I really felt like things were falling into place. That night, Chicago had a typically dramatic Mid-Western thunderstorm that probably would have thwarted our efforts if we had been in the lake that night. The same thing happened on Thursday night, leading me to believe that the open water weather gods had sent us an apparent message by granting us clear skies and fairly calm winds on Wednesday night.
For the two days before the swim, I had deprived myself of all caffeine sources, making myself miserable in the process. Therefore the Starbucks Venti (XL) latte two hours before the start truly hit and stayed on the spot for the next 14 hours.
On Wednesday, Mark covered the AM household shift so I could sleep ALAP (L= Long), which wound up to be 8:30am. I ate a regular breakfast and lunch at the appropriate meal times and a PBJ sandwich before we left. Since we were feeding every 30 minutes through the night, there was no need to carry any extra food weight in my stomach. Many marathon swimmers choose to overlook this fact and gorge themselves beforehand and afterwards, something I don’t agree with at all.
It’s always a good sign when one is bored before a swim and that is exactly how David felt on the morning of the swim. His sole amusement seemed to be watching me dart about our house, dealing with my family and home, swearing under my breath, “This is the LAST time I do a swim at home and have to take care of other people on swim day.” Between meal preparations, carpooling, and making sure the kids had what they needed for the next 24 hours, rest I did not. That afternoon, before we took off, I attended “Family Day” at Sam’s camp, drove him home, changed into my suit, packed up the car, and Mark and I set off for the start of this marathon swim; all without the benefit of 48 hours worth of caffeine.
A lot was coming together. David and “the boys” were piloting the boat south from Winnetka to the start. Coming from across the lake, Rob and Max’s were nearly in Chicago, and would anchor at the starting beach. Tom and Richard had worked out the kayaks, gear, and course. Chris and Joe had been picked up at their home by the “Land Crew” and would be at the start when Mark and I arrived. Cooky, blank log in hand, was ready to go for this Chicago night boat cruise. Mark and I made a stop at Starbucks – PHEW! As everyone who wasn’t swimming bustled about, Chris and I were allowed to wait; David was on the boat getting ready.
The kayakers, boats, and crew suddenly all appeared on the water in front of Juneway Beach. It was now time to begin. After the media interviews and the magnificent send-off from friends, David, Chris, and I united on the shore line and marched into the water together to begin our Chicago Skyline Swim. It was 6:52pm on Wednesday July 30, 2008.
Often during the first few moments of a long swim, I ask myself if I really want to be doing this and do I think I can make it? (Truthfully, it often comes out, “What the (insert expletive of choice) are you doing here?”) With all the training and preparation I had done, a serene “Yes” to both is the only answer. (Actually, the answer is really “Shut the (insert expletive of choice) up and swim.”) For those first few hours, the sun was still up in the sky and we were swimming in relatively shallow water so the sandy bottom was clear below us. There was still plenty of “life” happening on the waterfront at this hour so we garnered many waves and cheers from curious onlookers. Tom’s course took us on the straightest tangent possible so we did get close to many piers early on. I looked at the landmarks as we passed: Loyola, several apartment buildings, Hollywood Beach, Foster Beach, gradually shifting my brain from land to water, getting into the non-stop, forever pace.
We also used those early hours of the swim to get everyone situated: boats, kayaks, and swimmers alike. Initially, the ski boat was on the east side. Tom came next and flanked us three swimmers: Chris, me, and David. Richard was on David’s right (west) side, and the Zodiac rounded out our flotilla on the west side. Aside from Chris and me changing places because he preferred the middle, we kept this formation for the duration of the swim. Later into the swim, when not feeding swimmers, the power boats would lag behind to confer and monitor boat traffic, as Tom and Richard competently shepparded us swimmers southward.
Throughout this entire swim, I felt fine. My left shoulder did start to bother me after several hours but it was not unbearable pain and regular Motrin kept it operational. My feeds agreed with me and I felt that they were of the right consistency and coming at the correct frequency.
Around 8:30/9 PM, the sun started to dip and every stroke taken was in one more gradient of darkness. I wanted to hold on to the sun for ALAP (L= long), but letting it go now meant we’d see it on the other side. Even better was the fact that we’d start to see the Chicago Skyline from a night-lit perspective. I also knew that Chris was worried about swimming in the dark so by David and me not deviating from our plan in any way, Chris’s fear could be kept at bay. At our next feeding, Mark gave us all light sticks to put in the straps of our bathing caps in order to track our whereabouts in the dark. Chris and David never touched theirs but leave it to me to fiddle with my equipment if I can. Within an hour, I had maneuvered my light stick right to the bottom of the lake so Mark gave me my next light stick with a safety pin attached, instructing me to attach it to the back of my suit, “And keep your hands off it.” All better and no more fiddling, darn it all.
By 9 PM, it was good and dark. We were north of Navy Pier and had a unique seat to the Wednesday night fireworks. A few hours later, we would swim through the area where the firework ashes had fallen; I like that charred, smoky smell. After the fireworks, we were into the heavy lifting of this swim. For the next 7 hours, it would be very dark. Time to get it done now.
About 4 ½ hours into this swim, Chris started getting sick. His feeds weren’t agreeing with him and combined with the slight chop we had encountered, he felt seasick. So for the rest of the swim, David and I encouraged Chris at every feeding as he either took in a little bit of something, even water, or declined his feed. We told him often, “Just make it to the next feeding. It’s only another 30 minutes.” Then we would set off to swim again. I would usually watch Chris feed the fish in the next few minutes, knowing how mentally and physically badly he was feeling. Both David and I have been there, done that. It’s such an ironic position because here you are, the Superduper Swimmer and something like an upset tummy is defeating you to the point of rock bottom, in your very own element. Cold water can do the same thing; fortunately for us, the water temperature held steadily in the low 70s, making hypothermia a non-factor.
At our feeding sometime around 11pm, Richard became the town crier.
“Chris, Joe says you have to eat something.”
“Marcia, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“David, Leslie called and said to eat more protein and she’s going to bed now and will call again when she wakes up in the morning.” (Leslie is David’s wife and often accompanies him on his long swim but stayed home in Austin, Texas this time with their children.)
I marveled at how technology has allowed so many people to be involved from afar.
One the great things I like about swimming in Lake Michigan is that there is relatively little in the water that one is going to run into when swimming. When I swam in New York and Connecticut, we were forever dealing with seaweed, fish, sea lice, jellyfish, and occasionally, trash in the water. In Chicago, I primarily focus on just the swimming. Mark told me that a large school of fish, possibly perch, was picked up on the radar passing directly below us but that was about as exciting as it got all night. After the swim, one of my east coast friends asked if I had been inundated with jellyfish on my swim, like they were experiencing that summer in the Atlantic waters. I couldn’t resist telling him about the fresh water jellies and the great dark sharks.
“In Lake Michigan, the only jellies to worry about are the 10-foot monster fresh water jellies with 50-foot tentacles that only come out at night. If they sting you, a perverse reaction causes you to sing the Chicago Bears fight song over and over for the next 4 hours. ("Bear Down Chicago Bears…") If you escape these jellies, you must be able to outswim the Great Dark Sharks, the lesser known species related to the Great Whites but far more dangerous due to their voracious appetite for Lycra and Latex. It was a very very dangerous swim and we barely escaped with our lives.”
We were settled into a routine of feedings and swimming. We all swam freestyle but occasionally, I threw in a little backstroke, especially after a feed in order to finish what was in my mouth. Immediately after a feed, we swimmers would set off south without any escort for about a minute. The kayaks would reload anything they needed from the boats then catch up to us. I always felt safe because in those dark waters, it would have been easy to see approaching traffic. The boats would confer together and trail us for about the next 28 minutes when it would be time to feed again. Thus is the exciting life of an open water swim.
After we passed Navy Pier, Tom plotted us to start veering away from shore, following the most direct tangent of the swim. The lit up buildings started to get lose detail and look more like those professional panoramic night shots. I was loving every stroke of it, so appreciative of my ability to be in this spot at this time. It occurred to me that many of the current Olympians in Beijing at this time would not be able to do this swim since it is so different from pool swimming. When we were 8 hours into the swim, I happily informed Tom that I felt sufficiently warmed up and ready to go now. He just smiled at my goofiness.
South of Grant Park, the buildings disappeared and only the dark parkway loomed to our west. Not a problem because I now had in my sights what I thought was an enormous cruise ship. It took me a long while to conclude that #1) people do not take enormous cruise ships around Lake Michigan, #2) this was the water intake plant, visible as only a speck when viewed from South Lake Shore Drive. It was gigantic and had a lot of red lights in grid-patterns. We came within 500 yards of it and I got to wondering if I could be sucked into it, like the Sewage Treatment Plant south of the George Washington Bridge in the Hudson River leg of the Manhattan Island Swim. Since I was on the most eastern side of our assemblage, this was a possibility, especially when you consider that my brain wasn’t functioning at its optimal coherent capacity right now. David was wondering the same thing too but told me later, “I figured you’d be sucked in first so I was safe where I was.” The bottom line here is that we were always safe.
One of the best parts of our swim was just about to happen: DAWN! Watching the sun rise from the water never ceases to amaze me. Today’s day break event didn’t disappoint. I knew we had a very good chance of being successful as a group once that sun rose and pumped some energy into us. Chris was still nauseous but steadier now. He asked for feedings to be every 20 minutes since half hour intervals were becoming unbearable for his arms and stopping felt so good. Of course, the painful price was to start up swimming again after a break. I bargained with him for 25 minutes since David and I could have gone to a 40 minute feeding schedule. When he declined his feed at the first 25 minute stop, I told him sternly that we were stopping for him and therefore he HAD to eat something; he complied.
When we were fed around 5:45am, Mark announced, “Traffic Chopper will be here in 15 minutes.” The Channel 7 ABC newsroom had called to find out if we were still in the water and if so, where were we. Mark later said that giving these directions was one of the highlights of his summer! When the helicopter arrived, I expected it to hover close above us but it was way way up there. They must have some mega-zoom camera since the footage they showed on TV a few minutes later showed us up close, swimming in tandem, and looking strong.
Richard specifically told me, “We are going straight towards the split in that breakwater.” After being called many endearing terms over the years directly linking me to the phrase “Stop looking around, you tourist. Swim!” I took this opportunity to inform Richard, “Looking around isn’t my job, I’m just here to swim.” Smarty pants. To reinforce this descriptive, just before we went through the breakwater, I told Tom, “I’m ready for the main set now.” He laughed out loud.
The breakwater area is like a huge playpen. I knew beforehand that there are some military bases just north of this spot but I had forgotten such trivial information over the past 12 hours. If by chance they were doing underwater testing on explosives that morning, we would have received quite a lift but no such chance today. Within the breakwater, the water temperature went up at least 2 degrees. It was fine for the 1 ¾ miles we had to swim into the beach but such a temperature for the full swim would have been too hot.
There we were: taking stroke after stroke just as we had been doing for the past 12+ hours. Each stroke was bringing us one stroke closer to the beach. Chris thought we would never ever get to the beach. Soon, the sandy bottom appeared again and sea plants were trying to tickle our torsos. The biggest satisfaction and relief was getting inside of the “Swim Area” buoys at Calumet Beach since I knew now that we would finish. Our ground crew was standing in front of the flag pole and the closer we got, the easier it became to distinguish faces. When Chris, David, and I stood up and exited the water, following Channel Rules (“You have to get to where there is no water in front of you”), I was euphoric that we had made it. Our entire armada had worked as a team all night, stayed united, and made this happen.
I didn’t feel tired while we were swimming but once I had walked up the beach then come back into the water to “wash off”, I felt the fatigue. The past 25 miles of swimming and staying up all night caught up in an instance. Heidi, Liz, Peggy, Chip, Jacob, and a few other friends, made sure we were ok and helped us shower and dress. Everyone was fine, just feeling the effects of the effort expended. I vaguely remember Peggy driving us north as I was fading in and out during the drive.
In the afternoon, we took naps then had enough energy to go out to dinner. It was there that David started talking about “our next swim;” I just looked at him amusingly. Who knows when; first we have to figure out the where.
Thank you to all of you who made this swim happen:
Our crew, Mark Green, Rob & Max Carstens, Joe Gray, Cooky Donaldson, Dan & Paul (David’s nephews)
Our Kayakers, Richard Clifford & Tom Heineman
Our amazing Ground Crew and well-wishers, Heidi Kafka, Liz Kooy, Chip Gray, Jacob Karaca, Peggy Heineman, Laura Slevin Moriarity, Kaari Reierson, Susan, Kyle, & Kelly Bertram, Kris Rutford, Julia Green, Leslie Blanke, Robert Zeitner, and everyone else out there cheering us on! All of your support really mattered. Thanks!!!
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