Well, I can now report, definitively…Manhattan is an island! Having circumnavigated it, I can confirm that it is completely surrounded by water and can be reached only by bridge, tunnel or ferry…or by swimming. I’d never have thought of reaching Manhattan from Queens by stroking across the East River, rather than by, say, the Triborough Bridge,, but now the thought is conceivable, because on June 23rd, I swam 28.5 miles up the East and Harlem Rivers and down the Hudson in 8 hours and 53 minutes, and enjoyed almost every stroke.

In my final pre-MIMS chronicle, I expressed some uneasiness about swimming through Hell Gate, after having quite a few people warn me, in the final week, how “treacherous” (the word everyone chose to describe it) this juncture of the East River, Long Island Sound and Harlem River could be.

I must have been pretty convincing: When I arrived home post-MIMS, on Sunday evening, this message from Lynn Rhue, a TI coach in Colorado Springs, was waiting:

“Terry--My whole family has been thinking about you all day--even prayed for your safety in church this morning--and that Hell Gate not be too rough! LYNN”

Well, Hell Gate was actually fun –one of the highlights of the day, but more on that later. After climbing out at South Cove in Battery Park and standing a bit wobbly-legged on shore, my first comment to TI Coach Rich Barkan was “Well I can check that off my life-goals list; no need to do it again.” But within an hour, I’d changed my mind and decided to swim around Manhattan at least one more time. Here’s how the day went and why I’m drawn to repeat the experience:

I drove to Manhattan on Saturday with my crew and supporters. Dave Sides a friend from New Paltz, was my kayaker. Dave went early Saturday with Jenny Bahnsen and Kim Innes, TI coaches from Australia, who were visiting NY for several weeks of TI teacher training. I was planning to drive down later with my wife Alice and Shane Gould, who were to be my boat crew – responsible for my care and feeding and keeping a log of the swim. Dave, Jenny and Kim were going to scope out the course Saturday morning on a 3-hour Circle Line cruise.

Before leaving, I decided on one last tuneup – a 2000-meter lake swim, with Shane, at Lake Minnewaska State Park. After we unloaded mountain bikes for a trail ride to the lake, Shane took off a bit ahead of me and, hurrying to catch her, (while riding an unfamiliar bike) I lost control on a rocky downhill, careened into a trailside boulder, glanced off and fell to the dirt. Anxious about possible injuries – but not really wanting to take inventory – I immediately resumed riding the final 5 minutes to the lake. My whole right side – hand, shoulder, leg – were hurting, but I just wanted to get in soothing cold water and see how I felt while swimming.

I swam gingerly for 20 minutes and was relieved to find that while I hurt in various places, I could swim without inhibition. After swimming, I checked myself more carefully and found minor abrasions on my right shoulder, chest and arm, one nasty patch of road rash on my right leg, below the knee, and a rapidly swelling and bruising finger. I knew I’d be able to do the swim, but just one thing worried me: I’d skipped the recommended shots – hepatitis and tetanus – and I now would be swimming for 9 hours in waters not considered pristine, with an open wound. Oh, well. No turning back now.

Saturday afternoon, Shane, Alice and I met Dave at Pier 40 on the Hudson for the pre-race briefing. Race director Morty Berger spent a good 20 minutes warning us how difficult the race start could be. For the first half mile, we’d swim against the incoming tide before rounding the ferry terminals at the southern tip of Manhattan and heading up the East River. Morty told us repeatedly that it was possible some of us might not make it and that all of us would very likely spend a long time looking at the Jewish Heritage Museum, a distinctive hexagonal building just behind the seawall in Battery Park. Is it possible we’d be caught between Heaven and Hell…Gate?

After checking in to our hotel, we walked along the seawall to check out this treacherous stretch – it did look potentially difficult; there was a strong current and the river was very choppy. Later we went back to the hotel where Dave described what he saw from the Circle Liner. Better news here. Dave said the left side of Hell Gate looked more hospitable than the center and offered a good route to the calm of the Harlem River. He also said it would be a good idea to swim straight out to the center of the broad Hudson River when we exited Spuyten Duyvil (Dutch for Spitting Devil) and aim to swim straight under the center of the George Washington Bridge, to catch favorable currents and avoid drifting into the sewage treatment plant, docks and cruise ship piers on the West Side.

I awoke Sunday at 4 am and immediately ate a bagel and some fruit salad, hoping to give my stomach a chance to settle before plunging into the rolling Hudson at 6:30. Dave reported to Downtown Boat House to pick up his kayak at 4:30. Shane and Alice met Captain Mike Richmond on our crew boat, the Irish Mist II, at North Cove at 5:30. Jenny, Kim and I walked half-a-mile farther on to the race start at South Cove. There, Jenny applied Vaseline under my arms and, quite thickly, over the ragged patch of “road pizza” on my leg. After small talk and a few group shots of the 21 competitors (15 individuals and 6 relays), an advance group of slower swimmers leapt into the water at 6:10 and received the starting horn at 6:15, receiving a 15-minute head start on the main body of swimmers.

Taking the plunge
Next it was our turn. South Cove was less than inviting. All sorts of debris had collected in it. I hoped this wasn’t a foretaste of what we’d find outside the cove. It was actually a bit difficult to find a clear space to jump from the dock. When I jumped, I was surprised to find the water completely pleasant and just a bit salty. We stroked to the south end of the cove and huddled near the exit waiting for the countdown and starting horn. At 6:28, it came and off we went.

We swam around a barge tied to the seawall just outside the cove in a close, pack. I brushed against other swimmers twice. According to race rules, touching another swimmer was grounds for immediate disqualification. But the officials were in a forgiving mood as no one stopped me.

We went by the barge with surprising ease and soon saw the notorious Jewish Heritage Museum on our left side. That passed to the rear fairly quickly too. Maybe this upcurrent swim wouldn’t be that bad. After a few minutes I began looking for Dave, my kayaker, and almost immediately saw him to my right. Next I took a bead on the ferry terminals and was relieved to see that no boats were pulling out or in.

While walking that stretch the night before, I had planned to aim for the northeast corner of Governor’s Island and a tall building on the Brooklyn shore to guide me past the terminals…and perhaps even to admire the Statue of Liberty to the southwest. But once in the water, all I could see – unless I stopped swimming and sat up high in a beginner’s breaststroke – was green swells all around and Dave in his kayak when I breathed to my right. It would be that way for the next 28 miles. While there’s spectacular scenery all around, you never see it unless you stop swimming to admire it.

The Brooklyn Bridge and “Feelin’ Groovy”
Happily, we made it into the East River without much ado and I could immediately feel the current moving us along. I had no idea how fast it was, but after a few minutes, Dave warned that I should move toward midriver as I was drifting too close to some docks on the Manhattan shore. I looked up and saw a pier and those docks a fair distance ahead on my left and put my head back down, taking about ten more strokes and making a small course correction to my right.

When I lifted my head again to see how I was doing I was stunned to see that I was about to hit the pier --a group of about 10 telephone poles, sunk in the river bottom and wound tightly about with heavy marine rope. I grabbed the pier with both hands and it took all my strength to haul myself around to the right side and avoid being swept to the left and into the docks. Now I knew how strong the current was.

Following Dave’s lead, I angled toward mid-channel and within minutes was passing the South Street Seaport, a group of beautifully-renovated 18th century warehouses (now containing an entertainment-and-shopping mall like those at Baltimore’s Harbor Place and Boston’s Faneuil Hall) and a collection of graceful antique vessels, which I paused to admire. Ahead I saw the familiar lines of the Brooklyn Bridge. Within 10 minutes I was under the bridge – the first of 12 bridges we’d swim, paddle or drift under today. It was 6:58. Perfect! Time for my first water break and an opportunity to enjoy the rare experience of seeing the world’s most historic and beloved bridge from its underside. I drifted there for four or five minutes, sipping water, posing for pictures from the crew boat and chatting with Dave about what memorable experience this was. And after taking in water, I released some at the other end (sorry, I know, polluting the river isn’t good form, but couldn’t help it) and began swimming again. The Manhattan and Williamsburg bridges were just ahead.

The East River went by with remarkable speed and ease. I passed under the Williamsburg bridge at 7:12, under the 59th Street Bridge (celebrated in Paul Simon’s “Feelin’ Groovy” refrain) and the Roosevelt Island tramway just before 8:00 am and made it all the way to Hell Gate by about 8:30. During the previous 90 minutes I had stopped frequently to admire familiar sights, to pause for pictures with landmarks such as the Empire State Building and the United Nations in the background – and paused at something like 10 minute intervals for “pee breaks.” I was learning what happens when you’re a 51-year old male in cold water. I was also drinking less and less water, hoping to stem the flood passing so rapidly through me. Several times I tried to figure out a way to relieve myself without stopping, but couldn’t master that. I hoped my crew wouldn’t think I was stopping because of fatigue, because I felt great.

Surfing Hell Gate, Plodding the Harlem
And so to Hell Gate. At about 8:30,Dave said “We’re here.” Thus far, I’d been swimming at a very leisurely pace but I picked it up a notch here – I felt strong and coordinated. All those pool sessions where I’d practiced raising my stroke count from 11 or 12 spl to 14 were now paying off. I kept it up for three or four minutes. It felt like body-surfing: The water was turbulent, but the current was moving mostly in my direction, so I felt as if it was bubbling me up and forward as I swam. Before I knew it, Dave said “That’s it; you’re in the Harlem River now.” Well, it was actually a bit anticlimactic after all the anticipation. Alice called over from the power boat “Did you hear the people cheering?” and pointed to the seawall. I hadn’t heard anything, but I looked up and indeed saw a dozen or so people clustered above. We waved to each other and I began swimming up the Harlem River.

At my second feeding in the Harlem River, I was feeling incredibly happy to be in the midst of this swim, I’d anticipated and prepared for for months. I asked my crew “Is a feeling of euphoria one of the undescribed symptoms of hypothermia?” (The crew information had described such symptoms at length, along with instructions to pull the swimmer from the water if any were seen.) Not only had Hell Gate been fun, but the first 3 and a half hours were an undilutedly joyful experience. I was approaching the duration (and had exceeded the distance) of my previous long swim – a 9-mile, 3-hour 35-minute crossing of Long Island Sound at age 21 and was feeling MUCH better at that point than I had after a similar amount of swim-time 30 years earlier.

Well euphoria didn’t last. The Harlem River is long and much of it is fairly boring. A long, narrow channel with extended stretches of uninspiring landscape bordered by razor wire. Except for Yankee Stadium midway and the graceful arches of a bridge that looks like a Roman aqueduct near the Cross Bronx Expressway crossing, there’s not much to see other than gritty industrial stretches and public-housing high rises. I was surprised at how long it took to follow the Harlem River Drive from the Triborough Bridge to the GW Bridge approach – a journey that takes all of 10 minutes in the car (or 90 minutes in bad traffic.) And for a time, the river became crowded. After several hours of swimming alone with my crew, we were suddenly among a crowd of swimmers and their crews in tight quarters. I had to pick my way carefully through the crowd to avoid coming too close to another swimmer and his or her entourage.

I asked my crew about the traffic and they said “You were swimming in last place for quite a while but now you're passing the people who started at 6:15.” We passed under (I think) five mostly utilitarian bridges in the Harlem River, unlike the earlier landmarks in the East River. And finally, just before noon, we came to a wide place in the river with the Columbia University boathouse on the Manhattan side and a big blue Columbia “C” painted on the rocks on the Bronx side. The Spuyten Duyvil and Amtrak Bridge that marks the passage into the Hudson were just ahead.

Dave said “The Hudson will be pretty rough and feedings will be difficult; I think you want to take a good one before we head out there.” So I lay on my back like a sea otter sucking on my Endurox bottle for quite a while and ate a whole banana. While I was lazing there, a relay team that I’d passed an hour earlier came along and passed me. Finally someone to race! I handed Dave the bottle, adjusted my cap and goggles and set off in pursuit. I passed them back as we were heading under the Amtrak bridge and enjoyed the urgency of racing after 5 and a half hours of just swimming. Not a good idea to get too excited though. The finish line still lay another 13 or 14 miles ahead.

Swimming in a washing machine
Out in the Hudson, we swam straight toward Jersey, heading for the center, and the Hudson is a wide river. I stayed close to the relay for 45 minutes or so keeping track of them by looking for the kayaker and crew boat. I could never really see their swimmer because the swells were so high. And that defined the whole Hudson River experience. A 15 to 20 knot headwind blowing from the south was whipping up 3-foot swells. Plus, there were wakes from fast-moving river traffic of all sizes and a Palisades Park Police boat trying to keep things under control. It was the way I imagined it might be swimming in a washing machine.

For the first hour or so, after the tedium of the Harlem, it was an interesting change of pace. It became somewhat more difficult to keep track of Dave in the kayak and feedings were an art, as Dave maneuvered delicately to pass my water bottle while trying to avoid being dumped on top of me by a looming wave.

The imposing GW Bridge drew me forward. It took exactly an hour from the Spuyten Duyvil. I paused again while under the bridge, checking out the Little Red Lighthouse – I’d heard of it, but you can’t see it while crossing the bridge – and goggling at the span far overhead. The next visible landmark was the huge sewage treatment plant on Manhattan’s West Side.

At about 1:30, after 90 minutes of battling the waves, I finally admitted to my crew that I was tiring. Not from the time or distance, but the unremitting chop. Shane, who had been printing my stroke rate (“49”) and stroke tips (“Fishlike and Silent”) on a greaseboard on the crew boat, now switched to encouraging messages, some in Ozzie slang (“Onya!”) I asked where I was and Shane wrote “105th Street.” Not that that intelligence meant much. The next visible landmark was the 79th Street Boat Basin. And so the Hudson unfolded – Trump City, the Sanitation Pier, the cruise boat piers and the Intrepid. Interesting to see these sights from the backside, wearying to be sloshing around so much.

Home Stretch
I had a period of premature excitement when I thought I saw Pier 40 ahead. I knew that was just over a mile from the finish. I picked up my pace for a strong finish. After five minutes or so, I passed the warehouse and read the deflating legend Pier 96. Oops, another 56 streets to go before the home stretch. So I settled into an unhurried pace again.

And finally, I saw the real Pier 40 and accelerated again for the final push. Passing the seawall in Hudson River Park, I could see quite a few spectators watching from above, just 30 yards away – the first time I had a sense of swimming before an audience. But they looked mainly curious; I didn’t get a sense of enthused encouragement. We passed North Cove, where the crew boats had started from and the final half-mile went quickly. Into South Cove, over to the dock, where volunteers helped hoist me up, then steadied me as I climbed the ladder to the top of the seawall. And how did I feel? Just relieved to be done. I hadn’t the energy to be exhilirated by the enormity of swimming around Manhattan. No particular pain or soreness. Jenny was waiting to greet me and Rich Barkin snapping pictures for his website metrotri.com.

I sat for a while, drinking a bottle of cold water and eating a plain bagel and banana and simply luxuriated in doing nothing for a bit. Then Jenny, Kim and I began walking to North Cove, meeting Shane and Alice on the way. We met up with Dave back at the hotel, had a snack and asked for our cars to be brought from the valet parking.

An hour after finishing, I suddenly was overcome by a feeling of illness, overwhelming fatigue and a sense that I could faint at any moment. I collapsed in a chair in the hotel lobby for 20 minutes before I could summon the strength to begin driving home. (There was a post-event party at 6pm, but we decided to skip it because I was so tired and I doubted I’d have the strength to drive home if I waited another couple of hours to leave.) However, once behind the wheel, I began sipping from a 32-oz bottle of dilute Endurox and by the time we pulled into my driveway about 90 minutes later, I felt completely renewed. The next day I had a bit of post-race soreness, mainly in my neck, but Tuesday I felt fully recovered. And halfway home, on the New York State Thruway, feeling much better already, I turned to Alice and Shane and said “I’m definitely going to do swim Manhattan again…but better next time.”

Long Distance Lessons
I knew I would want to swim MIMS again because I had learned so much the first time and didn’t want to let those lessons go to waste…and because I’m an instinctive competitor.

Here’s what I learned:
As I wrote in Total Swim in early March, my goal in entering MIMS was to not simply to swim farther nor to survive a 28.5 mile swim. I embarked on this, inspired by the example of TI Coach Don Walsh having swum around Manhattan twice with the fewest strokes of anyone in the field, and having felt great at the finish. I wanted to explore the idea of training myself to swim 28.5 miles with flow and ease. I wanted to complete the circuit in fewer than Don’s 27,000 strokes and to be able to do a LOT of swimming with an injured shoulder (I’ve had a complete tear of the rotator cuff in my left shoulder since April of 2001) and yet without pain. I also wanted to prove that one could train for a marathon swim with not a moment of boredom or monotony. And I accomplished that.

I swam twice as much as I usually do, for over three months and enjoyed every moment. When people learned that I was training solo (I did one session with a friend and three sessions with Masters teams, but probably 50+ pool sessions by myself) they commented that I must be going out of my mind swimming that much by myself. But I enjoyed and was engaged by literally every stroke.

By maintaining an average of 49 strokes per minute for 8 hours and 53 minutes, I completed my Manhattan circuit in about 26,000 strokes. To put this in perspective, Emily Watts, the winner stroked at 80 spm for 7 hours, 46 minutes for a total of over 37,000 strokes. Ron Collins finished second in 8 hours @ 60 spm for a total of 29,000 strokes. Gilles Chalandon finished third in 8:04 @ 70 spm for a total of about 34,000 strokes. With the 11,000 strokes I saved on Emily’s total I could have swum most of the way to the top of Manhattan again. At age 51 and with a weak shoulder, being fluent and economical was more important than being fast on my first attempt.

I also know I can improve significantly on my speed. For one thing, my crew calculated my food and fluids intake over 9 hours at 60 oz of water and Endurox plus two bananas and one pack of energy gel. I should have sipped at least 20 oz. per hour, meaning I was massively dehydrated for the last half of the swim. That’s why I had such a dramatic physical slump soon after finishing and why I recovered so quickly after drinking a large bottle of fluids on the way home. Why didn’t I drink more – even though I knew I should? My fluid bottles got hot on the deck of Dave’s kayak and weren’t very refreshing – the Endurox which was pleasant tasting in the car driving home, tasted awful in the river. And I was leery of having to make “pee stops” even more frequently than I had been. And it was simply difficult in the pitching Hudson. Nevertheless, next time I’ll calculate in advance exactly how much fluid I should drink each hour and stick to the schedule.

And before doing it again, I’ll get my shoulder fixed, so I don’t have to train and race quite so gingerly. Finally, this time I went as a tourist, anxious to soak in and enjoy the whole experience. My crew estimated that I spent 30 minutes chatting and posing for photo’s during the event. Next time, I plan to swim it more as a competitor and to see how fast I can finish.

In the end though, my first MIMS was a complete success. I enjoyed it as I had wished and I learned an enormous amount. Next I’ll get to work on a book about how to enjoy marathon swimming and make it a valuable learning experience.

OFFICIAL RESULTS
INDIVIDUAL COMPETITORS
1. Emily Watts, 34, Manchester, MD, 7:46:10
2. Ron Collins, 40, Clearwater, FL, 8:00:26
3. Gilles Chalandon, 45, New York, NY, 8:04.44
4. Rachel Luch, 20, Chester, NY, 8:06.48
5. Thomas Schwartz, 42, Sarasota, FL, 8:07:00
6. Andrew Johnson, 37, Arlington, VA, 8:09:36
7. Scott Zornig, 42, Rancho Santa Margarita, CA, 8:15:02
8. Maddalena Mustillo, 22, Union, NJ, 8:21:08
9. Michael Maier, 40, Ellington, CT, 8:21:48
10. Becky Jackman, 38, La Mesa, CA, 8:29:09
11. Bonnie Schwartz, 23, New York, NY, 8:53:03
12. Terry Laughlin, 51, New Paltz, NY, 8:53:31
13. Henry Eckstein, 54, New York, NY, 9:05:00
14. Chris Solarz, 23, New York, NY, 9:13:31

6-PERSON RELAY TEAMS:
1. Asphalt Green "Fish Gang", 7:53:16
2. Team Sufferfest, 8:39:20
3. Holy Cross Alumni, 8:48:28
4. Jelly Fish, 9:02:22

4-PERSON RELAY TEAMS:
1. Tri-State Trout, 8:13:16
2. Team Whatever, 8:32:05
3. Team Himajin, 8:34:25

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