Two Race Reports:

USMS 5K Open Water Championship
May 17-21 Ft. Myers Beach, FL

Fort Myers Beach (FL) hosted an Open Water Festival May 17-21. The centerpiece was the USA Swimming National Championships for 5K (on May 17), 10K (on May 19) and 25K (on May 21). Since the 10K will be contested next year in the Beijing Olympics, the first OW race in Olympic history, all the top US men and women OW swimmers were there.

The host organization put in a bid to host a US Masters championship as part of the Festival. The May date was early for open water swimmers in most of the US – where the water is still a bit chilly to get any open water training in advance of the race. But it was late for Florida as the water in the Gulf of Mexico was already at least 83 degrees – 10 to 15 degrees warmer than the range normally considered ideal for OW racing.

I had planned to swim all five USMS Open Water championships this summer and was relieved that my injured shoulder responded well enough to allow me to race without discomfort, though my preparation was less than optimal. I decided going in that I’d consider the race a success if I could place in the top 3 in my age group. That’s exactly where I did place, behind Rick Walker of Sarasota FL and Alan Bell of Washington State, two of the top 55-59 distance swimmers. I wasn’t quite as pleased with the 9 minutes-plus that separated my finishing time of 1:14 from 2nd place, but it gave me a measure of how far I am from competing at the top level.

Other than the uncomfortably warm water, race conditions were excellent. The water was relatively calm and the course well marked. The course was a long, narrow loop, 50 meters wide by 1200 meters long, parallel to shore, about 60 meters from the beach. There was little to sight on as we swam the outside edge of the loop, and the turn buoys were relatively invisible for the first half-mile, forcing anyone not closely following others to navigate by reckoning. But as we swam south, on the shore side of the loop, the Fort Myers pier offered a good landmark.

With my conditioning somewhat suspect, I began the race swimming quite conservatively, and stayed calm as what looked like at least half the field, pulled quickly in front. I was following several swimmers by 25 meters or less, helping me to stay on course quite easily. I stayed where I was, using a focal point of an unhurried high-elbow catch with light pressure, to maintain a firm grip while conserving energy. I was in no hurry to pass, to take advantage of the ease with which I could navigate by following them.

As we swam around the three turn buoys at the far end of the course and headed south toward the start, I shifted focus to setting a slightly faster 2BK rhythm, good for pushing the pace while staying relaxed. I passed four other swimmers on that 1200-meter leg, aided as much by being able to sight easily on the pier, as by my increased tempo.

As we rounded the turn buoys and headed north again I could see only one swimmer in passing distance, but with the swells picking up, I soon lost sight of that person and felt like I was swimming alone for most of that leg. With no one to follow I navigated by reckoning. Early on I did several strokes of breaststroke to locate the turn buoys and fix their position against the sky-and-shore-line beyond them, which I sighted on until the buoys became visible.

I felt an unaccustomed fatigue early in that leg so I shifted to an energy-saving focal point, Marionette Arms, for the rest of the leg. With swells increasing I also focused more on staying smooth, using a stable and patient catch combined with a very compact kick. I was enjoying the swim, but this portion of the race was entirely internal since I had no way of gauging myself against the field.

As I approached the final turn I was pleased to see, not one, but three other swimmers, less than 20 meters ahead, coming from a line closer to shore. That gave me a jolt of mental energy at the start of the final leg. I knew I should follow a line closer to shore than on the second leg, as the finish chute was nearer shore than the turn buoys. But I was unsure how much closer to shore it was. I could see swimmers, to my right, but no one to my left. I was closer to shore than anyone else, but was I too close? I tried often to catch a glimpse of the finish but it stayed obscured by the pier behind it. Nonetheless I stayed 10 meters inside the pack all the way, sacrificing any hope of drafting, but hopeful I could make that up by holding a better line to the finish if I had guessed right.

For the final 1000 meters I shifted my focus to Diagonal Power, synchronizing strong leg drive with my opposite-hand-spear. I also increased my stroke tempo by at least 10 percent. There were three to four swimmers in striking distance as we began the final leg and I suppose I passed them all as there was no one between me and the finish during the final 25 meters in the finishing chute.

On the whole I was pleased with my navigation and with how strongly I was able to finish, after feeling fatigued at the halfway point. Over the next month I’ll add some focus on raising my “aerobic speed” before working on that in a more concentrated way in July and August, so I’ll be able to compete with – and draft off – of a faster-moving group of swimmers at the start of future races. I finished 22nd out of a field of 80+ swimmers so I finished this race reasonably well after my pokey start.


USMS 1-Mile Open Water Championship
May 27 Audubon Lake, Reston VA

This race promised to be a delicate balancing act. In recent weeks, I’ve worked to make up time – and fitness – lost to my shoulder injury, deciding not to pause for the expected mini-tapers for early season U.S. Masters championship events. In my last race, the 5K championship May 19 I was handicapped by a lack of speed, while also feeling an unaccustomed fatigue halfway through the race.

But for this mile race I was encouraged that one factor could work in my favor. The shore-hugging course around Audubon Lake ought to produce more pack swimming – and drafting opportunities – than other courses. If I could get behind faster swimmers I might finish faster than my current fitness and speed would otherwise allow.

At check-in, I was pleased to see that my submitted 1500-meter time of 20:00 put me into the fastest of eight waves (20 swimmers per wave). Though my seed time was the slowest in that wave, if I could manage a strong start, I might tag along to a good finishing time. I had done my hardest week of training in many months and felt deep fatigue in my final Masters practice two days earlier, so I was really counting on the energy savings from drafting.

While wading in for the start, a race official stopped me on the ramp. My race number – marked with a “permanent” marker just 90 minutes earlier – had faded from my shoulder, after application of sun screen and a warmup. I had to pull off my cap and show my race number – on a tyvek paper slip – to prove I belonged in that wave. As I stood on the ramp – 20 yards from the start buoy where the others were gathered – I heard the starter say “Swimmers ready.” I shouted “No, I’m not ready” as I heard the start horn.

Fumbling with cap and goggles and stumbling toward the start line, I could see my planned strong-but-controlled start and good drafting position disappearing before I’d taken a stroke. I jammed on my cap and goggles and passed the start line 15 seconds behind my wave, swimming furiously. My panic start had me stroking raggedly and my heart pounding already.

I had walked along the first part of the course earlier and noticed that the first turn buoy was 20 yards to the left of the best direction, which hugged the curving shore to the right. I hoped that by hugging the shore there I could catch the tail of that wave. At about 200 meters I managed to catch the last couple of swimmers then looked ahead for opportunities to leapfrog the next small group.

In the next 200 I caught another pair, just as the leaders of the second wave – who’d started 30 seconds back – caught us. Their pace was much brisker than those I’d been chasing so I locked in on the ghostly feet of the first one to come by. Indeed I was so locked in that 200 meters later, I blundered into the first left turn buoy. So focused had I been on following those feet that I’d never glanced ahead.

We crossed the lake and made another left turn, back toward the starting end. I estimated we’d gone halfway – about 800 meters. From there we’d swim approximately 700-meters before a final left turn toward the finish. I continued to bear down on those feet and to spear my hands to their targets, putting as much energy as I could into every hand-spear, visualizing that each spear was keeping me magnetically close to those feet.

At this point, it became more a battle with fatigue and pain than with the field. I was fighting through more fatigue than I’d ever experienced in an open water race and felt my chest being squeezed by my Fastskin suit, making breathing difficult. I handled that by focusing on a strong exhale, a bit like the Lamaze techniques used by birthing mothers. Several times I looked forward hoping to see that final turn drawing near. But each time, the course looked endless, especially considering how much discomfort I felt.

I recognized this as a make-or-break moment. It would have been easy to let those feet get away, but in open water you can never be sure where you are in relation to your rivals – i.e. others in my age group. So I stopped looking for the final turn to think only of spearing my hands toward those faintly-glimpsed feet…with stray thoughts of synchronizing my 2BK and keeping the tiniest bit of patience in my catch.

In time we were upon the last turn and heading toward the finish. I scrambled up the ramp and across the finish line at 23:03. Then I walked straight back to the water and swam a very slow 800 meters, knowing that without a long recovery swim I’d be sore and tired for several days.

By the time I emerged from my swimdown, most of the results had been posted and I saw I’d won the 55-59 age group by nearly a minute and a half, enough of a cushion that I could probably have placed first even if I’d cruised all the way. Still, it was valuable to have my “best laid plans” go awry. I’ll probably face tougher competition in the three remaining open water championship events this summer and I’m thankful for the gut check.

While TI swimming is built on a foundation of doing what feels good and making good feel great, that doesn’t mean there’s no place for the “good pain” of an intense effort. Probing the outside limits of one’s endurance is the most revealing test of how well you’ve imprinted efficient strokes and keen focus. And in pursuit of ambitious goals, you sometimes need to use all of what you’ve imprinted.