No two races are the same

No two races are ever the same, especially when it comes to guiding. 

I use a simple mantra when it comes to guiding; if I’m not 100% confident in my ability to get the person I’m guiding to the finish line for any reason, I won’t guide them.  I’ve stood by this as a means to be prepared for any race.  I treat guiding race prep exactly the same as my personal races; train, study the course to find any unique features for me as an athlete or that could make guiding someone else difficult.  I also consider the areas of strength and experience of the athlete I’m guiding has as well as the area they feel they may lack experience.  With David, this was an easy conversation, the swim.  Since the first conversation I had with David he made it clear that he had never swam tethered in open water.  Over the last year he has made tremendous gains in the pool easily swimming 2 miles at a time.  A week before the half iron race David had the opportunity for his first open water tethered swim at the Dare2Tri camp.  This camp is a tremendous opportunity for all triathletes with disabilities to receive guidance, instruction, guides and assistance as it relates to racing in a triathlon.  David expressed to me his appreciation for the swim time he had as he began to become familiar with the oddities that are open water swimming.    

   

David arrived at my house Thursday which was nice to have some more time to discuss the triathlon camp and for my son Mason to come up with a new game with David called “do you know where I am now?”  The game consisted of Mason moving from place to place in a room then asking David to identify where he was based off the sound of his voice.  David was a good sport as the game continued on to Friday morning as well.  One of the things I’ve enjoyed about guiding and having the opportunity to have these athletes at my house and around my family is to give my children the opportunity to understand things like blind or visually impaired on their own level.  Emmie, my daughter who’s 5, would refer to David as “blind folded”.  Not exactly the scenario but a small step for her understanding David’s world a little bit.  Most of David’s and my talk were about the upcoming swim for the race on Saturday morning.  Our plan was to head up to the race site early afternoon Friday and get in a practice swim together.  We had discussed strategy at length and how I try to swim in a straight line and let the athlete make subtle adjustments based on the tension of the tether tied between us.  If he gets to close I can either let him bump me or tap him to make him aware of a slight adjustment away from me.  This was the plan going in. 

David and I entering Lake Winnebago for our practice swim

Lake Winnebago is Wisconsin’s largest lake within its border at 215 square miles of surface.  The race takes place in the upper eastern corner of the lake and on Friday, our test swim day, the wind was blowing directly out of the west.  The water was choppy.  Choppy, at that point, became the word of the weekend.  We pulled our wetsuits on, adjusted the tether and walked to the shore.  Standing at the shore is a little intimidating without the ability to see the other side of the lake, the wind blowing in our faces didn’t help much either but on that hot afternoon at least the water felt refreshing.  The buoys for the race were already out and we were using those for points to swim to in order to practice swimming side-by-side and also to practice navigating turns.  The idea was that during the race there were two right-hand turns to make the triangle swim.  I was to swim on the left side of David which would allow me to bump in to him or cut him off to make the correcting turn to the right around the buoy.  For that day in those conditions, the guiding and tethering was a distant second in importance as David was having some difficulties getting settled in to swim.  We were averaging about 25 yards of swimming for each time we’d stop, regroup, gather our bearing and start swimming again.  I learned a valuable lesson that swim; regardless of how much or how little sight a person may have, the effects of swimming in the open water are the same.  Disorienting, misdirected, off-course and frustrating are all accurate descriptions of what Friday’s swim was for David.  I had been there before on my own, now I was trying to imagine how that would feel being on the end of a tether with little opportunity to verify my location or direction on my own.  When we would stop swimming and tread water David would try to point in the direction he thought we were trying to head, each time the course he pointed was a good 45 degrees, or more, off.  It felt as if he was trying to apply a concept that I greatly appreciate and marvel at with the visually impaired and blind athletes I’ve been around – feel.  He was working to feel his way through the swim from the perspective of where he was starting to swim and where he should be ending up.  He mentioned how in the pool he can feel himself moving along and feeling when he’d be getting near the wall in preparation to turn around.  He would feel as he neared the lane lines and make the subtle adjustments to stay off them.  All things that are doable in the pool but all things that disappear in the open water for most of us.   

Waiting for our wave to begin

Saturday morning David was already filling me in on the wind direction and speed as he spent most of the night with Siri, asking her “what is the wind speed”.  It was ideal for a 7:15 am swim; a couple miles an hour out of the south east, which meant much of the swim would be protected from the wind as it was coming off the shore.  We got to transition and hung the bike and began to unpack our swimming gear.  I set out my towel and set my cycling shoes, running shoes, socks and visor out like I normally do.  David chose to keep all his items in his bag where he knew where they’d be.  We put our wetsuits on more to keep us warm than to prepare to swim, it was in the low 50’s and enough wind to cause a slight chill.  We were in the final swim wave, 5, of the half iron distance and stayed back from the water as athletes began to push closer to the water as the time approached 7 am.  David, Meghann (my person), and I were standing in the sun on the cold wet grass simply waiting for the waves to begin.  David was quiet and Meghann picked up on his nerves.  I really hadn’t noticed or just didn’t care about his nerves because in 15 minutes our wave was starting and I was ready to guide.  We left our sweatshirts with Meghann and stood at the back of the half iron swimmers as waves began to move in to the water and begin their race.  While standing there I turned to David and asked something about being ready and he replied with a hesitant maybe or I think so… to which I said “You’re kidding right?!”  He didn’t say anything else and I kept walking him forward closer to the water as our wave was up next.  I wasn’t going to buy in to any hesitation on his part, I was his guide for the race and I wasn’t there to enable or build upon hesitation by asking or feeding it.  I kept moving towards the water and he kept right along with me.  Our wave went off and we were the last two to enter the water.   

Last ones out in the water

Prior to our start I was telling David that it was a shallow swim start that went out parallel with the shore and that many people were walking the first 75 yards before getting up to their shoulders deep and starting to swim.  We did the same.  I don’t know if this is unique to guides or just me but right before we started the swim I turned off the fact that this was a race.  For me guiding isn’t racing, it’s more of a job, it’s thinking and evaluating in each moment to make a decision to make the athlete’s race easier, harder, smoother or more difficult.  When David was ready to swim, he put his face down in the water and jumped ahead; I jumped with him and from that moment on, it was all about David.   

 The water was as smooth as a large lake could be, we were at the back of the pack with no threat of anyone coming up from behind us, it was by all means a perfect guiding situation for a swim.  Then David stopped swimming to find his direction; much like our practice swim we had made it a short distance before he started treading water and searching for the right direction to swim.  A few minutes would pass and he again began pointing at our swim target, and like the previous day’s swim he’d point off target.  We’d swim again and again we’d tread water.  His frustration built quickly especially as he’d tread water he’d slightly turn away from our target and in the few moments between him pointing on target and then pointing again, he’d already turn off target once more.  This continued for the better part of the first couple hundred yards of swimming.  When we would swim and his direction would drift I was continuing to try and get him to feel the tether, feel the tension of him pulling away from me in order to make that slight shift back towards me to stay on course.  Instead of changing his direction it would lead us to stop and tread water once again.  David’s patience had just about run out and as life guards were passing in kayaks or hanging out floating on noodles, he verbalized a thought I’ve had at one point during long open water swims, I don’t remember exactly what he said but it sounded like doubt that he could complete the swim.  I’m not one for motivational speeches or remember what my words were but what I began doing was asking him to trust me.  I never said trust and I never asked him anything, but what I was trying to impress upon him was to just swim.  I wanted him to get his face in the water and just swim, don’t worry about where, or how far or in which direction.  Trust me and swim was my message, however I expressed it as we treaded water tied together in the middle of a big ass lake.   

Swim complete!

It came together, whatever it was, when David would get farther away and the tether would stretch between us, he’d make his way back.  When David would begin getting too close, I’d wait for his left arm to reach out front as a part of his swim stroke and I’d give him a nudge on his left shoulder and he’d drift away.  We were swimming tethered and I couldn’t have been happier.  I was proud of David, proud of what he had to overcome and proud to be a part of it as we kept moving ahead, catching rhythm and passing buoys.  Over half way through the swim we passed someone.  David stopped quickly for some reason and I told him we had just passed someone, he smiled and then got back at it.  The two right hand turns we made were a non-issue, I tapped him on the left shoulder and he went right around.  The last stretch of the swim was headed to shore and right in to the waves.  David seemed to be enjoying the swim as he kept moving along and seemed to be swimming more comfortably and faster.  This was the hardest point to guide as I’d look to the beach ahead and get two eyes full of sun.  The sun was just over the tree line over the beach and it’s reflection against the water wasn’t helpful.  We managed and as we approached the beach I could see my dad off to the left of the swim exit waving with his camera in hand.  By this time the beach was empty except for Meghann, my mom, dad, a race announcer calling out David’s name and a few others.  I stood up and reached down to let David know that we were done swimming but he just kept swimming.  I kept waiting for his hand to touch the bottom of the lake but he kept going.  Finally a big tug and he popped up.  He tripped up a little standing as the water was only about knee high.  As he stood he smiled and wound up for a big high five.  We walked out of the water and had to navigate up some steps off the shore and back on to the grass.  It was an incredible feeling, I was excited for David; excited that he overcame his doubt and nerves and believed that he could complete the swim.  

We both knew the day wasn’t over but now that the swim had ended what was left was there for us to enjoy as he’s an experienced and accomplished cyclist and runner.