If 2016 is going to have a theme, I’d say it would be the
year I do things I’m really shit at.
I’ve spent 10 years mountain biking almost exclusively and think
I’m reasonably good at it. My previous running history gives me the confidence
that, should I put in the time, I could get around a running race in a
reasonable manner. Dabbling in some off-road triathlon and adventure events
however, has revealed that I am absolutely rubbish at anything involving water. This surprises me as a great deal of my childhood was spent
in the water, as you do when raised in balmy Far North Queensland in the days
when air-conditioning was a luxury enjoyed by a privileged few.
But my speciality was underwater swimming and competitions to see who could dive
the deepest and hold their breath the longest. The last formal swimming lesson
I had was getting my Dolphin certificate in primary school.
So a variety of events conspired to lead me to enter X
Adventure – a swim/run/ride arrangement held in the wine-producing region south
of Perth. This was also the concluding location of the Cape to Cape MTB stage
race I’d done previously and I was blown away at the time by how exceptionally
clear and inviting the water was, although my fear of sharks restricted me to a hip-deep
recovery dip at the time. As X Adventure was a Rapid Ascent event I knew it would be
heavy on the ‘adventure’ part from my experiences at their other events in
Forrest and Alice Springs.
But the thing that would pose the biggest challenge
was the swim. Not being competitive, but just making it to the end of 1500
metres. I joined the local triathlon squad, Red Dog, but apparently this isn’t
enough – it really helps if you actually GO to the sessions. Attendance was
ad-hoc at best followed by three weeks of panic training where I almost blew my
shoulders out with paddles. It’s the first time I’ve engaged a professional to
teach me a new skill and it’s definitely the only reason I’m writing this blog
today. Every session required maximum concentration to work out where all my
limbs where going while I tried in vain not to get lapped by the other people
in the ‘slow lane’. At my last session before leaving for WA the exchange
between my coach, Trent Patten, and I went:
“Well I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to get. If I don’t
drown in WA you’ll have a repeat customer”
“Hmm. I don’t think you’ll drown.”
Great pep talk but probably as optimistic as my form
deserved.
After a night of consistent rain, the setting was not
exactly what was promised in the event brochure. The big relief was that the
winds had moved to off-shore so the sea was pancake-flat. In transition I
nervously arranged my running gear and noticed almost everyone putting on
wetsuits. Exactly how cold was this water?? And why didn’t I think of that?
Envying the butt-floating qualities of neoprene I waded into the water with my
seal-like competitors as the gun went off.
I would say the 250m to the first buoy was one of the worst
experiences of my life. Four hundred people thrashing around, swimming over me,
salt water in my mouth, can’t breathe! I
stopped, seriously thought about pulling out but then looked around. I was now
with a group of similar ability. They were swimming for a bit, breast-stroking
when they needed to catch a breath and, most importantly, not giving up. I can
do this. Even if I have to breaststroke the entire bloody way! After the first buoy I managed to settle into a rhythm (doing freestyle, even) with
a group and began to enjoy the swim. It was so clear and the sandy bottom
was reassuringly close at all times. I spotted some fish, but thankfully none
of the large, bitey variety that WA is renowned for.
Suddenly I was back at the boat ramp with high stoke levels
after completing my first ever ocean swim. Okay, so maybe 32 minutes isn’t
exactly ‘suddenly’, but that’s not important. Setting off on the run leg I was
quickly onto the 4 kilometres of rock-hopping. I didn’t see any scenery as I
focussed on not snapping an ankle on the wet sandy stones. Rock running is a
discipline of its own. I passed some people, got passed by others, had a few
close calls, including one with a fisherman’s hook and line. Finally getting to
even ground on walking trails, the 6 ks to the bike transition saw me pick up
quite a few places.
 |
| You can just see the specks of competitors navigating the rocks sections. Not a bad place for a run! |
At the Dunsborough Country Club I got back into my comfort
zone aboard my trusty Liv Lust MTB. The legs were pummelled from the run but the
MTB course was almost entirely single-track with little climbing which would be
Advantage: Me. I had no idea how many
were in front of me so I just pushed as hard as I could and passed a few other
competitors by taking the many A-lines while others went the long way around.
The rain had made the sand incredibly grippy and I thought “you just can’t fall
off on these conditions” yet around me many people were contradicting that
opinion. It was nice to finally feel competent at something!
In the end it was close but I couldn’t claw back the time
I’d bled in the swim and run. Coming in second still exceeded all my
expectations and the previous three hours had been a journey of challenge and
personal growth (code for ‘struggle and outright terror’). It was a great
course and quite the soft entry for a novice swimmer. There is a huge
difference between laps in a pool and a mass-start ocean swim. It’s like
training for a MTB race entirely on a wind-trainer. I’d like to spend more time on my swim but
now it’s on to paddling for some big adventure races (See previous blog for
recap on paddling ability).
Next up: Darkside 18 hour Adventure Race http://bit.ly/1vtPR0d
Thanks to For The Riders, Ride Mechanic, Shotz Nutrition, NS
Dynamics, Tineli clothing and Liv Cycling.
Great write up Jo, and congratulations on the result. Your swim sounds remarkably similar to mine...
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