Challenge: 5 lakes in 5 days

By PAMELA LEBLANC: FIT CITY

Event is taxing, but people - and pie - help a lot

Monday, November 05, 2007

I'll never swim the English Channel or pedal the Tour de France. But I did finish the first-ever Highland Lakes Challenge, a five-day swimming stage race that made me feel like I did a little of both.

Before the race ended, I'd logged about 16 miles in the lakes of the Texas Hill Country. My swimsuit rubbed a raw spot on my neck. My fingertips wrinkled like sun-dried tomatoes. And I ate a whole lot of pie.

In all, five people took on the Monster Challenge, swimming distances of between 2.6 and 4.2 miles for five days in a row. Another swam shorter distances all five days. And lots of other folks who couldn't manage to squeeze the whole series into their calendar dropped in for a race or two.

Keith Bell, head of TeamTexas Masters ccvswim team in Austin, dreamed up the idea. He considered staging a swim race in the Intracoastal Waterway on the eastern seaboard before settling on one in the Hill Country. "I thought, 'What a cool place for people to come vacation, see the upper Highland Lakes and do the race each day and have some time to explore,'" he says.

He partnered with the Blue Bonnet Cafe, Lake Point Cottages, Sunset Point on Lake LBJ Waterfront RV Resort, Camp Longhorn and Riviera Marina to put on the series. The top finisher turned in a cumulative time of 6 hours, 49 minutes and 23.3 seconds.

When they finally pried the Texas-shaped finisher's plaque from my water-soaked hands that last day, I made my husband promise to hang it in a place of honor at our home. (That painting in the living room? Coming down.) Here's my take on the experience:

Day One: Lake Buchanan

Distance: 4.2 miles
Time: 2 hours, 15 minutes, 46.3 seconds
Thought of the day:Can I go to sleep now?

Temperatures hover in the 40s as I motor out to Lake Buchanan. It's cool to watch the sunrise, but I'm sleepy and the race hasn't even started. (Note to self: Jet lag and a touch of a stomach bug don't bode well for open-water swim races.)

I meet the other competitors — all guys — who are swimming the long distance today. Among them are four U.S. Masters Swimming age group long-distance national champions — Bell, David Barra, Terry Laughlin and Sandy MacDonald. They've come from as far away as New York and California.

"(Open-water swimming is) as extreme as our sport gets," says Bob Button, 48, a high school math teacher who drove up from Bay City for the races. Today's 4.2-miler will be the farthest he's ever swum. Me, too. Every other day will seem easy by comparison. We hope.

I shove a packet of Gu energy gel into my suit, seven of us wade into the water, and before I can change my mind we are chugging out of the cove, aiming for a bright-orange buoy that is so far away I can't even see it. We glide past the lighthouse and into the main body of the lake. The water's perfect — temperatures are in the upper 70s, and it's not too rough. I catch a rhythm and just start plugging away. Every now and then I catch sight of one of the support kayakers accompanying us.

An hour later, I reach the turnaround buoy. Someone tosses me a bottle of water. I pull out the Gu, squirt it into my mouth and stuff the wrapper back in my suit.

The trip home is tougher. The wind picks up, and with it the waves. Pretty soon it feels like I'm riding surf in the Gulf of Mexico.

I take frequent breaks, rolling onto my back. I chat briefly with Laughlin, 56, who has somehow appeared at my side. (He's a veteran of the Manhattan Swim, a 28.5-mile jaunt around the heart of New York City. He's also creator of the Total Immersion swim program.)

Neither of us is really racing today; we're just enjoying pretending we're in a washing machine.

It's hard to tell where we are. The sun is bright; the coast all looks the same. An hour later, we've spotted the lighthouse, but somehow we're on the wrong side of a breakwater we hadn't even realized was here.

The waves are so big that Laughlin gets lost from my view. I gulp more lake water than I'd care to think about. But eventually we make it around the wall and let the waves push us into shore.

Even Bell, the race organizer and a smokin' fast swimmer, has trouble navigating. He swims off-course, turning his race into a 6- or 7-mile odyssey and disqualifies himself from the stage after getting on a support boat to comfort his worried wife.

Our reward for finishing? A coupon for a free slice of pie at the Blue Bonnet Cafe in Marble Falls.

I can't make it over there today, but I'm already contemplating which kind I'll try later in the week.

Day Two – Inks Lake

Distance: 2.6 miles
Time: 1 hour, 20 minutes, 42.4 seconds
Thought of the day: Hi Dad!
Pie: Coconut cream

I used to camp at Inks Lake State Park as a kid, so it's fun to visit the small lake again. It's colder today, and I shiver a little as I pull up to the boat dock where the race starts. I gulp down a couple of energy gel blocks. Breakfast of champions. Yum.

Today's a special treat. My dad drove up last night and is here to cheer me on. I feel better already. The bug's about gone. My muscles are tired, but there's nothing like swimming in a freshwater lake to make me happy.

And so we head out again, swimming from the cove inside the park toward the dam, where, we are told, a bright orange buoy will mark our turnaround. Today should feel short. At 2.6 miles, it's not much over half of the Day One distance. Pretty soon I'm on my own.

I pop my head up to check out the surroundings. I can see Camp Longhorn, and, looking tiny in the distance, the dam. Laughlin's kicked it into gear today, so I don't have anyone to chat with. But it's nice to revel in the isolation. After a while I can't see any kayakers or swimmers or boats around me.

Cool. I'm glad sharks don't live in fresh water.

On the way back, it's harder to navigate. Halfway down the lake, a boat pulls into view. And there's my dad, camera pointed at me, saying hello. Suddenly the lake seems a lot shorter. I'm almost home.

Day Three – Lake LBJ

Distance:2.6 miles

Time: 1 hour, 16 minutes, 32.6 seconds

Thought of the day: What should I have for lunch?

Pie: Pecan

The fog is hanging on the lake, and because we don't want to get lost in its murk, the organizers move into a nearby cove, setting up a triangular course. I feel so good I think I'll actually push it. No lollygagging. Breathing on both sides.

A gaggle of folks who live at the Sunset Point RV Park where the race begins wander out to take a gander at us. They must figure we're nuts. But we're not. There's nothing like slipping into a quiet cove on the lake on a crisp fall morning.

I'd rather swim an out-and-back course than two loops of any circuit. It's more mentally engaging. But I have fun sifting through a whole brainful of thoughts as I stroke through the water. We've got a new swimmer today — Brad Grulke, a graphic designer from Austin. We're at almost the same pace, so I fall in a little behind him and follow his splashes, sparkling like diamonds in the sunshine.

We're all swimming our own race out there, but we're together. The camaraderie is great.

Day Four – Lake Marble Falls

Distance: 3 miles

Time: 1 hour, 28 minutes, 46.1 seconds

Thought of the day: Ain't this purty!

Pie: Lemon meringue

While we're waiting to plop into the water, the fish are leaping out of the water. I can't wait to get in there with them, cruise under the U.S. 281 bridge and around the bend in the river to the ever-elusive orange buoy, which we're told is near the dam.

As soon as we start, I can tell this is going to be my favorite stage. Cliffs line one side of the river channel, and there's lots to look at, from boat docks to fancy houses. Under the surface, it's a gorgeous green infinity, with shafts of sun flashing like a searchlight. Every now and then I shout: "Wheeee!"

Again, I end up just behind Grulke. I like watching his red, white and blue cap bob in the water ahead of me. When I cross the finish line, I'm ecstatic. I feel exhausted but in the best possible way.

Day Five – Lake Travis

Distance: 3.6 miles

Time: 1 hour, 51 minutes, 51.9 seconds

Thought of the day: Is it really almost over?

My shoulders are tired. The thought of staying in bed flits ever-so-briefly into my mind. But the lake wins, and once again, I'm standing on shore, ready to hop in and stretch it out.

The water is perfect, the skies are clear, and there's a kayaker to accompany every swimmer. We head off from Riviera Marina. I know this water well; my husband and I used to have a boat here. Home waters!

We swim down Cypress Cove to the main lake, round the corner and on to Windy Point. I say hi to Grulke as he passes going the other direction, and at the buoy I tear open another tasty packet of Gu. I love snacks.

But there's work to be done, and I've got another hour of swimming ahead of me. I swim past one of my favorite slalom water-skiing spots and see the sailboats of the marina in the distance. Time isn't moving.

At last the finish line comes into view, and I feel giddy as I cross it, flip onto my back like an otter and pump my fist. It feels great. I love this sport.

Highland Lakes Challenge results

Monster Challenge (five days of distances between 2.6 and 4.2 miles):

David Barra, 6 hours, 49 minutes, 23.3 seconds

Bob Button, 7 hours, 22 minutes, 8.8 seconds

Terry Laughlin, 7 hours, 39 minutes, 14.7 seconds

Pamela LeBlanc, 8 hours, 13 minutes, 39.3 seconds

Weekend Warrior (three days of distances between 2.6 and 4.2 miles):

Keith Bell, 3 hours, 39 minutes, 37.5 seconds

Robert Alford, 3 hours, 53 minutes, 10.8 seconds

Brad Grulke, 4 hours, 32 minutes, 50.4 seconds

Mini Challenge (five days of distances between a half-mile and 1 mile):

Elise Ragland, 1 hour, 56 minutes, 35.8 seconds

pleblanc@statesman.com: 445-3994



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