Keep kicking and leaning on your leading arm for as long as you feel yourself in the wave. When it passes, if you can feel the bottom as you stroke, start porpoising. If the tide is out and there's a long shallow zone between the break and the beach, throw yourself ahead of following waves as they catch up to you. It's easier to catch a mini ride than to run and leap through knee-deep shore break.
How to practice this? Simple and fun. More body surfing. Most of the time you won't be at the shoreline at the end of your ride, so you can practice porpoising, mini rides, and high-stepping out of the water. Another good form of practice at the beach is to set up a mini-course, repeatedly swimming out 50 yards or so and then returning, always starting and finishing on shore.
In the 1970s, I worked as a lifeguard at Jones Beach State Park on Long Island. At Field Six, where I was stationed, we would set up a mini course by anchoring a milk or bleach jug about 75 yards from the main stand. On down time, we would often practice several dashes into the surf, stroking out to the buoy and then back to shore, finishing each by running to the stand. Whenever the surf was up, we'd spend hours body surfing. It was exhilarating fun — as well as invaluable practice of our rescue skills. I've loved racing in the ocean ever since.
Swim Safely
If you're not fortunate, as I am, to have a group to practice with, don't swim unprotected. Ask someone to swim with you or to paddle or row along. If your swimming partner is less experienced, keep an eye on him or her while you swim. If you swim where there's motorboat or jet-ski traffic, you must have an escort boat, and you should always swim with a bright-colored cap. Otherwise, swim on a guarded beach. One of my practice sites, Lake Awosting, offers an enclosed-and-guarded area about 50 meters wide. I practice all of the same skills mentioned above, while crossing back and forth for 40 minutes or more. If you swim in an unfamiliar spot, learn all you can about conditions: currents and riptides, submerged rocks or pilings.
Chapter 22
Putting It All Together on Race Day
You drive into the parking area. It's not even 6:30, and the morning chill won't dissipate for another hour or two. You shrink from the thought of leaving the warmth of your car for water that will feel even colder. You also recall your last race, when you stepped in a hole on the start and fell on your face while everyone splashed past. Still you got up immediately and plunged into a churn of arms, legs, and bodies all the way to the first buoy, where somehow the crowd thickened as five other swimmers tried to squeeze into space for one and your goggles came askew. Finally, you got on course...sort of...because you couldn't see the buoys and feared you were wandering blindly with few clues as to how far you had swum or how much of this unpleasant ordeal remained. After what seemed like forever — and with an extra quart or two of swallowed water — you stumbled on shore (tripping once more) and dragged yourself to the transition area. You have no trouble finding your bike; most of the field was long gone. You stare out the windshield and the thought crosses your mind: "Maybe I should just stick with duathlons."
I expect quite a few of you will shake your head in rueful recognition at this slightly exaggerated account. I've been racing in open water for nearly 30 years and all of this has happened to me, at one time or another. I admit to cringing momentarily at leaving my car to plunge into cold water first thing in the morning. But, mixed with that unease is the anticipation any runner feels upon arriving at a road race and seeing all the other runners preparing. Without exception, every race I've done has left me euphoric — about overcoming reluctance, the elements, and the unique challenges of open water. Even as I sit at my desk writing about it, I can feel anticipation and excitement rising for the fun I expect to have racing again. So, here's some advice on how to cut the challenges down to size and allow your strengths to come to the fore.
Pre-Race Reconnaissance
Pack extra goggles so a broken strap won't throw you. I use Seal goggles (see www.totalimmersion.net/products.html for ordering info) because of their extraordinary visibility, and bring one pair each of mirrored and clear. I'll use the mirrored if sun glare appears to be a factor; otherwise, it's the clear. I also pack a small tube of toothpaste or bottle of baby shampoo. I smear a small amount inside my goggles then wash and wipe it off when I first enter the water. Both are effective anti-fog agents. I also pack Vaseline or Body Glide. I get under-arm chafing in open water — especially in salt water — if I don't lubricate first. Finally, I drink-and-drive.. .water or diluted Gatorade, that is. Because there won't be any water stops during the race, I hydrate steadily on my way to the race and up until the start.
Arrive early, allowing ample time to check in and set up your transitions. After setting up your bike, ask the lifeguards about wave height, currents, or sweep if you are swimming in the ocean. Unless it's a short course (600 meters or less), you probably won't swim the entire course during warmup. But you can rehearse it creatively. Read the course map and study the course from shore. What shape is it? How many buoys mark it? Are turn buoys a different size or color than those between turns? On which side of the buoys do you need to swim?
If you have the inclination for a pre-race dip, wade out and examine the swim finish from the water. Take a mental snapshot of how the finish area and path to transition will look — through your goggles. Then jog easily from shore toward knee-depth water and back several times to learn bottom conditions — sand, rocks, weeds, mud or muck — and decide where you'll stop running and begin to porpoise, on the way out and on the way in. Next, practice a few ins and outs. Starting from ankledeep water, rehearse the sequence of run-porpoise-swim. After 10 strokes, turn around and do it in reverse. Swim in until your hands scrape the bottom, then switch to porpoise, and finally jog to shore. Two or three of these will provide priceless intelligence.
Warmup
I like to do a fair bit of swimming before I race, so after a few ins and outs, I swim easily to the first buoy to see how the course will look once I round it and whether there are landmarks on the horizon. I also note the position of the sun and whether it will help or hinder visibility. If the final buoy is nearby, I'll swim over to it and see how the finish line will look as I head for home. Remember that the position of the sun will be different by the time you finish.
Another important part of my preparation is to do roughly 200 meters of SSPs, to choose focal points for the race. This prepares me physically by tuning up my muscles and nervous system and helps customize my preparation to race conditions. If the water is flat, I might focus on hiding my head and swimming taller. If there's windchop, I might focus on rotation and piercing the water. Rehearsing SSPs can also be an effective way to block out pre-race anxiety. Jitters arise from dwelling on things we can't control. By practicing SSPs in warmup, you shift your focus to narrow technical points that you can control, blocking out distractions.
The final part of my warmup will be 200 meters or so of speedplay like those I practiced in Williams Lake (and similar to the pickups runners do in warmup): 20 strokes Silent, 20 Cruise, 20 Silent, 20 Brisk — perhaps two rounds. I try to do just enough to "cue" my nervous system for the task ahead, but not so many that I feel fatigue. This is another narrowly focused activity that will keep nerves at bay and help you dial in the race flow you'd like when the starting horn sounds.
Race starts are often in waves and, at my age, I'm usually in the third or fourth. After the wave ahead of mine starts, if I have five minutes and the starter permits, I'll keep swimming easily near the starting line, checking my watch every 30 to 40 strokes until about a minute remains, then move into position for the start. The continued swimming helps keep fresh how I want my stroke to feel in the race. It also keeps me focused and calm and warmer than if I stood and shivered with the other swimmers.
The Start
If you have limited open-water racing experience or feel even moderate anxiety about it, you'll be far more comfortable starting off to one side. As much open-water experience as I have, if the start is cr
owded, I look for open space. If there's a sweep or current, I start upsweep of the pack. On Long Island, the ocean sweep runs east to west, so I start toward the eastern edge of the group. The sweep will carry me toward the first buoy while I swim out fairly straight.
Still feeling jittery and unsure as you stand there? Nervous excitement is only natural, but just take a good look around. Note the lifeguards clustered offshore waiting for you. They'll take good care of you, help keep you on course, and be at your side quickly if you need them. Then survey your fellow athletes; they'll be out there all around you, and the ones you're most likely to be swimming with probably match up with you pretty well. And they're all feeling the same jitters. Besides, after following the program in this book, you're better prepared than most. Finally, look inward: YOU'RE Fishlike; you've prepared thoroughly and all you need do now is swim as you've practiced.
Unless the course is 400 meters or less, the race won't be decided in the first 100 meters. If it's at least one kilometer, you can take your time finding a comfortable pace. How comfortably you swim will hugely influence how you feel on the bike and run, and the first 100 to 200 meters will largely determine your comfort in the swim. If you have more racing experience and a fairly developed stroke, you can start with 40 to 80 fairly brisk strokes. Don't sight or look. Just follow all those bodies ahead of you.
In the first 200 meters, let yourself be carried by the energy of the pack; use your arms to carve out a space amongst the thrashing arms and legs. The tightest swarm of bodies is the knot trying to round the first buoy. Swim about five yards outside to avoid them, take a good look at where everyone is heading, and then fall in behind them at the pace and rhythm you'll maintain most of the race. If somehow your goggles get kicked off, roll to your back and kick easily while adjusting them.
One more thing about starts: In water temperatures in the 60s or lower, it's common to experience a gasp reflex during the first few strokes. The water literally takes your breath away. Even top athletes aren't immune. If you feel yourself gasping, just slow down. Do a few strokes of breaststroke or turn onto your back. But don't stop entirely. Movement helps; just take slower strokes until you feel normal breathing return.
Navigating and Drafting
During the first quarter of the race you'll probably see quite a few caps ahead of you. No worries; that just gives you more of a guide for navigating. Aim for the middle of the cluster. And each time you look up, don't be surprised if there are fewer caps out there. This usually happens without your having to pursue them. Just keep moving steadily and people will come back to you as they fatigue.
You'll find it far easier to maintain balance and flow if you try to swim 25 yards (20 strokes) without looking up. As your confidence and form improve, you can extend this to 50 or more strokes. When you do look, keep your weight shifted forward to minimize drag and maintain balance. Your wetsuit helps too. Before looking, try to picture what you should see when you look, and this doesn't mean just buoys or caps. Use the angle of the sun, piers, buildings or trees on shore, lifeguards on their rescue boards, boats at anchor.
To save even more energy, follow others closely and let them sight for you. If there is an occasion to draft, take it, either feeling for the bubbles from someone's kick or looking at their legs alongside as you breathe. If you're comfortable and not feeling way too slow, just stay there so long as the occasion remains, contemplating happily how the folks in front are reducing drag and saving you energy. Move cunningly from one drafting opportunity to another, like a trout heading upstream, resting for a bit behind one rock before swimming to the next rock. Between drafting opportunities, focus on minimizing drag by slipping through the smallest space in the water, and on keeping a steady core rhythm, your arms connected to your core.
If, for some reason, you feel any discomfort out there, mental or physical, or feel your heart rate rising, try any of the following: Begin counting strokes to occupy your mind. Focus on an SSP to put flow in your stroke. Roll to your Sweet Spot, kicking easily for a bit, and regroup. Being in Sweet Spot, particularly with a wetsuit, should be very relaxing. Remember, Sweet Spot is your 'Vail" any time you need one, in open water.
Finishing
Unless there's a clear turnaround that tells you the race is half over, you'll usually have only a vague idea how much of the race is complete. Unlike in a pool race in which the lap counter constantly alerts you how far you've gone and how much remains, in open water you can lose your sense of time and distance. You'll need to be more cautious in your pacing than you would be with distance markers. Try to increase your pace by tiny amounts as the race goes along (regular Speedplay practice will give you an internal "speedometer"), but never increase your pace or intensity unless you're certain you can sustain it and build on it through the end of the race. And don't give a thought to picking up the pace if you are in a triathlon and must bike and run after you reach shore. Just stay smooth and happily reflect on how fresh you'll feel when you mount your bicycle.
When you finish the swim, don't rush to the transition area. I watched Mark Allen walk up the ramp at the swim finish of the Hawaiian Ironman in almost a leisurely fashion — thinking, no doubt, that another 7 hours of hard racing remained — as others around him scrambled hurriedly out of the water. He went on to win easily. So, at best, jog calmly from the beach to the transition area, unzipping and peeling your wetsuit to the waist as you go. Since I've worn a wetsuit only once — and removed it laboriously — my best advice is to practice taking yours off to work out the easiest way to shed your neoprene skin. Once you reach your bike, start re-hydrating immediately, since you've not been able to drink while swimming.
At this point, my work is done, but yours is just beginning. Now the real race starts. Enjoy it; you should have all the energy you need to give it your best.
Afterword
Now Take Your Swimming to Unexpected Places
My daughter Cari plays Ultimate Frisbee at Wesleyan University. I went last weekend to watch her play in a tournament. It looked like exhilarating fun, but later she mentioned that she'd never touched the disk during the game. Because, like me, she's not a born athlete, and frisbee is often a coed game, most of the other players were faster, stronger or able to jump higher. Cari wistfully related the thrill of watching a player from another school race from one side of the end zone to the other, dive headlong, somersault and then snatch the disk inches from the turf for a one-of-a-kind, acrobatic score. "I know I'll never be a human highlight film," she said "but I still think I can become a good player and I think the way to do that is to work on my throwing."
Smart thinking. She'd pinpointed a key part of the game that doesn't require special physical talents, but will accede to patient, diligent practice. If she is simply willing to spend hours mastering the countless ways one can artfully snap one's wrist to deliver a disk to the precise spot a streaking teammate will be at a particular moment in time — while also learning to read an unfolding play to anticipate opportunities — she could become a masterful playmaker. And as she does, she may experience exquisite satisfaction — not just because frisbee-tossing is fun, but from the satisfaction of seeing her ability to make the disk do what she wishes steadily increase. But most of all, she has a good chance to achieve the blissful state created by having mind and body fully engaged in mastering a challenging skill.
Having completed the basic aim of this book: to provide practical tools to help you swim better in a triathlon or open-water — I now invite you to go one step further and experience what has been the most satisfying and instructive aspect of swimming for me — that it is almost ideally suited to revealing the pleasures of the pursuit of Mastery.
What is Mastery?
Mastery is the intriguing process during which what was once difficult becomes progressively easier and more pleasurable through practice. Whenever we witness some form of memorably high-level performance-whether it's Isaac Stern on the violin, an acrobatic frisbee player, or Ia
n Thorpe in the pool — we instinctively assume that mastery requires some sort of inborn genius. But mastery is not just for the fortunate few; anyone who pursues a personally-challenging goal — no matter how modest their starting point — can experience its rewards
Swimming is a uniquely fitting medium for cultivating the habits of mastery because it is the antithesis of a genetically programmed activity. When we do it instinctively, by and large, we do it very poorly. Yet, while human DNA may not be ideal for swimming, it is encoded to learn prodigiously from birth to death. And it is the mastery of skills for which we are not genetically programmed that differentiate us from all other creatures.
Swimming mastery is not about swimming 100 meters under a minute or a 2.4-mile Ironman swim leg under an hour; it's not even really about achieving some level of stroke efficiency. It's about uniting mind and body, without distraction and boredom, in patient, focused, almost loving, practice. Practice of this sort can teach you how to learn and perform in almost anything.
The first of these lessons is the value of long-term dedication to the journey itself. If there is any sure route to personal fulfillment, it is in valuing the patient journey toward mastery over the desire for quick and easy results. Cultivate modest expectations along the way and every time you reach a benchmark or breakthrough, enjoy it, then keep practicing, hoping you will always have some further plateau to aim for.
Triathlon swimming made easy Page 19