Fish swim, seals swim, even ducks can swim. I do not swim. Do not like it, do not do it, and do not think God ever intended man to swim. That’s why he gave us boats. The few times I swam laps at Red’s, I noticed the lifeguard watching me from the side, ready to fling out that red buoy. With such a meager background, here I was, about to begin a 2.4-mile swim in the Gulf, never having done more than half of that distance. I suppose if the outcome were certain, it would not be a challenge.

Winds from the north had calmed the waves, cleared the water, bringing a sunny, beautiful day. The green gulf glistened, the cool inviting green of a Casa Ole’ Margarita. (with salt). To the sound of U2’s “It’s a Beautiful Day” the starting cannon went off, swimmers ran into the water, while I just stood there. Let those fast swimmers go, after a brief wait it was back of the pack for me. The course went out about 800 yards, left 200, and then another 800 back to the beach. I told myself you can do 800, so that became my goal.  Even in the back, there was a bit of bumping around on the way to that 800 mark, but it did come up surprisingly quick.  I paused to discuss this realization with fellow swimmers, but they seemed intent on continuing, so I pushed along.  I told myself the next 200 was a cool down, turn at the buoy, then 800 home. My usual method of sighting consists of a stop; tread water, removing my goggles, look around for the next goal, finally moving on. This water was clear enough to give a visibility of 10 feet or so, enabling use of fellow swimmers for sighting, eliminating my usual breaks. Into the beach, quick cup of Gatorade, and off again. This lap was a bit slower, the swells were growing, and I was tiring. A friend suggested I keep repeating, “ I am a great swimmer, I am a great swimmer…” but this opinion was not shared by the hundreds passing me. One of the kayaks was suspiciously close on the last leg, having been tipped off by those Red’s lifeguards. Do you tip them for watching out for you? Have to check on that.  Finally the shore: out, wetsuit peel, shower.  One hour, twenty-two long minutes.

Fast swimmers find racks full of bikes, 2000 or so. They scramble around like Christmas Eve shoppers at Wal-Mart, looking for their bike. As a slow swimmer, mine was one of the few on the rack. After a transition of ten minutes, I found friends John and Jordan working the bike area. With quick works of encouragement, they handed off my bike and away we go. The course started along the beach road, then turned north. The north wind had calmed most of the waves for the swim, but became a head wind for much of the bike course. The Lord gives, then takes away.  Some say this is a flat course. Some also think Anna Nicole Smith looks hot in a thong. I disagree. Anything causing me to shift gears, sit up, jacks up my heart rate, is a hill. Not “bring your snow ski’s” hills, but lots of rollers. Flat is Lafayette to Kaplan.  As the course changed direction with favorable winds, it became a faster course. Plenty of support, with aid stations every ten of the 112 miles. I grabbed an occasional water bottle, but stayed with the sports drink I had brought along; three bottles to start, three at the mid point. No solid food. Staying in my mid-heart rate for the ride resulted in a slower speed, but hopefully left something for the run.

Back to the ranch, another change of cloths, and a long 12 minute transition.  I need to work on those. Time to run. Nice flat course, cheering spectators in most areas, and very good aid stations; too good. I mean these came along every mile, and stretched for at least 50 feet. You need a grocery cart to get through. Water, ice water, Gatorade (what flavor do you want?) volunteers, sponges, soup, fruit, decisions, on and on. I walked at every one, but set a rule of 20 steps after each stop, then back to a run. As it was an out and back course, two loops, the scenery became a bit redundant, but the cheers and volunteers helped. Tough to see the finish at halfway, yet have to go back out for another loop. Coach Terry and Ashley were on the run course, which really helped. That big Ashley smile. I asked them to get the beer ready for the finish, but Coach said I would not be able to keep one down. (when I saw him after the finish, I was on my third.) During my last seven miles, night fell, and the glow sticks came out. Romantic you might think, but time to get home. I was feeling ok, and ran through the last two aid stations. Turn a corner, and there was the finish. It did feel good to cross that line. Four seventeen, a slow marathon, for a total of 11:42.

It took lots of help. The Lord pulled me through that swim. Coach Terry and those damn weekly training schedules. Friend and weight coach Pat, and the fourteen or so swim coaches, thanks Perrets. The best group of athletes, loosely called team LIT. These men and women started as acquaintances, and are now my closest friends. They were with me for every mile, pulling along.

Was it worth all of the training, 5 am runs, long weekend rides, physical therapists, aches, pains, the equipment, maintenance, supplements, travel???

The day after the race I signed up for Ironman Florida 2004. Come on!!