An Economy Class Crossing of
Catalina Channel

By PETE ATTIA

The 1000-meter cruise repeats were integral to my training, low intensity, but focused on impec-cable form and even pace, aiming to swim with metronomic precision over any distance without fluctuating speed.

On Monday October 10 at 9 p.m. I, along with close friends and family, boarded the Bottom Scratcher, a 63-foot boat I chartered out of Los Angeles harbor to begin the three hour boat trip to Santa Catalina Island. Just after midnight I stood alone at the north end of the island as the clock started. I waded in the 66-degree Pacific Ocean and began my swim across the Catalina Channel towards Point Vicente, some 21 miles away. I had trained for this night since early July when I decided to use this swim to raise donations and awareness for The Terry Fox Foundation.

In taking this on, I considered the limitations of my time and the demands of my job and wondered if I would be able to properly prepare in just 14 weeks. I had just returned to my surgical residency after a two-year research hiatus of relatively normal work hours. Residency meant a return to working 80 – 110 hours per week, and every third night on call in the hospital without sleep. I did the math: 168 hours in a week. On average, I would work 100 of them. I needed about 45 hours of sleep per week. This left 23 hours to eat, commute, grocery shop, and train. In speaking to many English and Catalina Channel veterans, I realized I would be at the low end of weekly training mileage. Most of my peers swam 40,000 meters a week, increasing to 60,000 meters in the month before the swim. My job would allow only 30,000 to 35,000 meters per week, but Terry convinced me that would be more than enough if I trained properly.

Most weeks I get at least a half day off. I decided to use this for gradually longer swims in nearby Lake Barcroft in northern Virginia. On week days I was not on call, I would swim in the pool and focus on speed work, drills, developing an “internal clock”, and holding a pace.

A typical session:

1000 cruise (at a pace of 1:40 per 100 meters or 2.2 miles per hour)
10 x 50 with varying stroke count (e.g. vary from 13 to 18 SPL in a 25 meter pool)
1000 cruise
5 x 100 descend by increasing stroke rate (but holding SPL relatively constant at 15 – 16)
1000 cruise
4 x 125 descend as above
1000 cruise
2 x 250 one easy, one fast
1000 cruise

I warmed up with drills (Under- and ZipperSwitch, in particular) and other strokes. Depending on the day, how late it was, and how much I’d slept the night before, pool workouts ranged from 3,000 and 12,000 meters, usually between 5,000 and 6,000 meters. The 1000-meter cruise repeats were integral to my training. They were low intensity, but I focused on impeccable form and even pace, aiming to swim with metronomic precision over any distance without fluctuating speed. My lake swims increased from 6 miles in early July to a maximum of 15 miles on September 18. I focused on holding a steady pace, learning to feed in the water without really stopping (flip on my back, gulp from my water bottle, resume swimming), and mental conditioning. Unfortunately, I couldn’t incorporate two of the biggest obstacles of ocean swimming into my weekly training: cold water acclimation and rough, salt water, swimming.

To address these, I left for San Diego 12 days before my proposed swim. By then the hard work was done and it was time to acclimate and taper. I swam 2 to 4 miles in La Jolla Cove every day. The day I arrived, the water temperature was 58 degrees F, but most days it was 62 or 63. I tried to swim at the time of day when the water would be roughest, to accustom myself to breathing in wind chop and swells without swallowing water. The EarHops had paid off, by piercing my hand into the water just in front of my ears after a relaxed recovery, I was able to avoid the strain on my shoulder that swimmers often experience when waves crash head-first into arms held high over the water surface. I also included one swim at 4 a.m. to get over the anxiety of swimming in pitch black (since one begins the Catalina Channel swim at midnight to avoid shipping traffic and late afternoon winds) and swims through kelp to learn how to roll through it instead of fighting it.

Those 12 days were tougher mentally than I had anticipated. I still wasn’t sure if I’d swum enough in preparation, but repeatedly re-read Terry’s emails encouraging me to focus on economy and efficiency. Also, the other swimmers in the cove all commented on how smooth and effortless my stroke looked - something I assumed was a positive sign.

When the time came to begin my Channel crossing, I felt suddenly calm. The 400,000 or so meters I’d swum in the past 3 months were all about this moment! I decided to approach my anticipated 12-hour journey like I used to treat a 12-round boxing match. I used the first 3 hours (rounds) to “feel out” the water (my opponent). I would force myself to think about keeping my stroke length long and to glide as much as possible. Through the long lake swims and the 1000-meter cruise sets I had learned to hit a given stroke rate between about 40 and 60 strokes per minute (SPM) on cue. During training, we realized that 48 SPM was my ideal rate for speeds of 2 to 2.2 miles per hour. I could increase it to 60+ SPM for 15-minute periods if I started getting too cold, but I couldn’t sustain my efficiency at that rate. A big part of marathon swimming is realizing your optimal ranges of stroke rate. For example, Penny Dean, one of the greatest marathon swimmers of all time was able to hold a stroke rate of 88 to 92 SPM across the entire Channel (both Catalina and English)! Conversely, Ted Erikson, the first man to swim the 60 miles across Lake Michigan and the only person to swim from the Farallon Islands to San Francisco (30 miles) held a leisurely 40 strokes per minute.

I knew in advance that hours 3 through 6 or 7 (approximately 3 a.m. to 6:30 a.m.) would be the toughest for many reasons: the darkness was getting old, my serum cortisol levels (cortisol is the steroid hormone our body produces to give us energy) were at their daily low, my glycogen stores were depleting, and the knowledge that I wasn’t yet halfway across would take their toll. On top of that, the water temperature dropped from 66 to 62 degrees F as I swam towards the coast. I’d anticipated all of that. What I didn’t know was that the weather would take a turn for the worse.

The wind picked up and for three hours I battled 3- and 4-foot swells. In the darkness it was hard to see the waves, so I swallowed a lot of salt water and began dry-heaving. By daybreak, however, the ocean had calmed and I was able to truly appreciate the sights and sounds of the ocean. For over an hour (about 7 a.m. to 8 a.m.) a group of about10 dolphins swam with me. It was the highlight of the swim. They were just within arms reach, but never close enough to touch. I told my crew in advance that I didn’t want to look at or be notified of land until it was 2 miles away. When that time came, it didn’t seem as if I’d been swimming long enough. As I approached the rocky coast I felt a real sense of sadness that this wonderful journey was coming to end.

Terry was right. Efficiency, more than training volume, won the day. As I climbed the rocks and was informed of my time (10 hours, 34 minutes – a full 90 minutes less than I had anticipated) I honestly felt like I could have jumped back in and attempted a double crossing. I simply couldn’t believe how effortless the swim felt. The adrenaline of the moment undoubtedly contributed, but nevertheless I felt great the rest of the day and night. I took the red-eye back to Baltimore that night and was back at work the next morning at 6 a.m. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t sore or tired. Within a few days I’d already come up with a plan for the next big swim. The real beauty of TI swimming is that with mindful practice we constantly improve. There will always be a body of open water to challenge us.

Peter Attia is 1 1/2 year "veteran" of TI swimming. Since beginning to TI swim he has taken up a real interest in open water swimming. Despite his hectic schedule as a surgical resident in Baltimore, MD, he still has plans in the upcoming 2 years to swim a double crossing of the mouth of the Potomac River, the Straights of Gibraltar, and across Lake Tahoe. The English Channel will have to wait until residency is over. Ultimately, he hopes his schedule will be flexible enough to coach swimming.

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