At the training facility in Parana, the kids were star-struck!

All the “Nadadores” at the press conference.

Here I am with Daan Glorie of the Netherlands, after the 2km sprint.

Roommates: The Dutch, Americans, Canadians, and the Croatians!

The Banana Bus (I bet you thought I made that up!)

“It’s a swearing kind of day.”  Got caught in the rain and missed the Banana Bus.

The cottage in Hernandarias.  No electricity, no swim bag, no food supplies.  Hooray!

Sunset over the Rio Parana.

Getting ready for the second sprint race, the 5km Alternative.

Swimming against the current.

The finish.

How did they know that watermelon was my favorite?

Podium finish.

The Maraton Hernandarias-Parana is one of the most famous marathon swims in the world. The race starts in the village of Hernandarias and continues down the Parana River, passing through a few villages along the way and ending in the city of Parana. At 88km it is the longest swim marathon race in the world, and it is one of a handful of professional swim marathons in Argentina, held on consecutive weekends. The Argentine people hold the sport of marathon swimming in high esteem, and every year anxiously await the arrival of the “Nadadores,” marathon swimmers from all over the world. It has been a dream of mine to compete in this race for the last few years, ever since my friend and marathon swimmer Erica Rose told me about her experiences competing in the race.

So late last year, with USA Swimming’s blessing (under the condition I also take a USA Swimming Certified Coach, a regulation introduced since the investigation of Fran Crippen’s death) I applied and was accepted into the race. I was elated! It was if all of my dreams were coming true all at once. I asked International Marathon Swimming Hall of Fame Inductee Anne Cleveland to accompany me as my coach. Next thing I knew I found myself boarding a bus in Rosario, Argentina headed for Parana where I was welcomed by a group of swimmers, race officials, journalists, and marathon swimming fans.

After a whirlwind week of race preparation, rest, appearances, a 2km sprint race, and trips to the pool, the swimmers and coaches were bused two hours north to the village of Hernandarias where we were escorted by police to the starting point, a large pontoon boat on the river. What we found in Hernandarias after a long week of beautiful sunny weather was torrential rain and high winds. During our lunch on the pontoon, a particularly bad patch of storm hit and the sound of breaking glass erupted as the high winds blew over glassware and the large 5-pane glass sliding doors right off their tracks. In the blink of an eye the Dutch and Croatian coaches caught the falling doors and held them against the force of the wind until the restaurant staff lowered the storm shutters. Their instantaneous act of heroism is forever burned into my brain, and thanks in part to them no one was injured in the incident.

At this time a feeling of doom washed over the group. The weather forecast for the next day was not promising. The river had been turned into rapids, and with the high northern winds it began to appear to run backwards. Waves were cresting and there were 3ft+ swells. One Argentinian swimmer, who has done the race numerous times, proclaimed that he had never seen the river like this before, and there would be no race the next day. We waited until the rain subsided to board the buses and head for the country cottages where we were spending the evening. I tried to get on the “Banana Bus” where I had left my swim bag and race supplies, but when we got to the bus it was full and Anne and I and a few other swimmers and coaches were forced to take a later bus. I thought that most certainly my stuff would be unloaded out of the bus by the other swimmers and coaches, so I did not worry. We waited for another thirty minutes, and when no bus arrived, a few villagers graciously offered to take the remaining swimmers and coaches to the cottages. The race organizers encouraged us to take them up on their offer, and after a short 10 minute drive, we arrived at our remote location, and found that the electricity was out, and that my swim bag and race supplies had not been unloaded from the bus, which was now gone. I was panicked. Here I was finding myself without even a suit or a pair of goggles the day before my first professional marathon! Due to the language barrier I never really found out what transpired, but one of the Argentinian coaches assured me not to worry and got in touch with organizers who then tracked down the bus. An hour later they returned to drop off my bags.

The cottage was a bit of a surreal experience. We had not access to transportation, and absolutely nothing within walking distance besides the grounds of the property, which was home to emu, chickens, turkeys, pheasants, and peacocks. We had no laptops and our phones didn’t work. In my cottage it was Anne and me, the Croatians, the Dutchmen, and the Canadians. There were two bedrooms with bunk beds and we split them between boys and girls. We spent the day napping and chatting, and this group of people ended up becoming the best friends I made on the trip.

We had been told to bring as little as possible to the cottage in Hernandarias, and left the remainder of our things in storage back in Parana. Other than the equipment and supplies for the swim, we took almost nothing, only the necessities. By the next morning, we were hot, sweaty, somewhat dirty from the rains and mud, and all I really wanted was a shower. We later joked to Silvina, the Swimmer Liason, that the purpose of our stay in Hernandarias was just to make us WANT to swim 88km down the river if for no other reason than to get back to the hotel and take a shower. As I brushed my teeth in the morning I thought to myself “this is the cleanest I’ll be all day.”

As we ate breakfast, we kept our eyes on the weather. Much to our dismay, within a few minutes the rains and winds blew in, and we took shelter in the farmhouse for a bit. Soon the bus arrived, and we loaded up and headed for the starting point. As we drove through town there were people standing on their porches and in their yards waving and cheering as the bus drove by. Once we arrived there was a crowd of spectators cheering and waving. The had their cameras and phones ready and asked frequently for photos. There were a few times when I was asked to hold someone’s baby for a photo and I felt like a politician.

Once we boarded the pontoon, the name of the game was to start preparations and hope for the best. We put our suits on, got number, applied sunscreen and greased up. The spectators seemed sure that we would have the race, but the swimmers and race organizers feared the truth. Although the advertised start of the race was 8:30, the decision to cancel or not was set to be made at 9:00. It rained a little and was a little windy, and the worst clouds were off in the distance. I really wanted to believe that we could head off and make it, but the truth was that it was too long of a race, and covered far too great of distance to try and out swim the weather. Reports came in that the weather in Parana was worse, and that the South bound wind was forecasted to swim directions to a headwind four hours into the race. FINA finally made the decision to call the race (rightfully so) and everyone, included the spectators and the mayor of the city was disappointed with the decision.

Once the race was called we hung out for another three hours waiting for a bus to come from Parana to pick us up. The restaurant on the pontoon pulled out an impromptu lunch, and I got a little bit of sleep (very welcomed as I had only been able to sleep 2-3 hours the night before). When the buses arrived there was one large one for coaches and a smaller one for swimmers. It had begun to rain again and the sun roof leaked the entire gloomy trip. We were told we were being bused to the second town on the course to see if we could start there for an abbreviated 60+km race, or depending on the forecast, possibly a 22+km. On Anne’s bus, there was a lot of back and forth discussion about what to do next. About an hour into the trip one of the race organizers on our bus received a phone call. The gesture he made as he hung up was unmistakable. The race was completely off, and I was probably the most devastated of the group, as I was one of the only newcomers. Later I spoke with this man and he told me that he felt terribly for me and that he couldn’t get the look on my face out of his mind when he went to bed that night.

Once we arrived back at the hotel it seemed as if everything was going wrong. One elevator was broken, the other one’s handle fell off when I went to shut the door. The keys they made for us wouldn’t work in the door. The Croatians went to their room to find someone sleeping in it. There was no hot water in our room. I lost (then found) my cell phone. We were told to meet in the Lobby for a meeting, but the time kept being pushed back. We found out that the Head Official was having a hard time getting back to Parana for the meeting because the winds had changed and she was on the lead boat (which, along with the support row boats, had tried to boat to the new starting point, but found they could not make it.) For the rest of the day Anne and I kept saying “It’s a swearing kind of day.”

That night at dinner we were finally able to hold the meeting. We were told that they would hold a Sprint race of about 5k the next day, weather and river depth permitting. The new course was held entirely in Parana, and was only slightly different than the sprint race held on Friday. We would be circumnavigating the island, so a portion of the course would be against the current. It was no longer a FINA event, so no FINA points would be awarded. The prize money had been reduced to less than half of what it was for the marathon. When the prize money was announced, it was split into three categories as it is for FINA races: women’s race, men’s race, and overall race. After some discussion, it was pointed out that due to the fact it was no longer a FINA race, there need not be an overall prize money category. The women in the room lobbied for the overall prize money to be divided evenly between the men’s and women’s race, and the race organizers agreed. This was one of the high points of the entire trip, as this practice essentially guarantees that the top three men are paid twice for their efforts as the women are paid only once. It was a victory against a antiquated and discriminatory practice. The race was scheduled to start at 4pm the next day.

Luckily I slept well that night and had a very low key early part of the day. We ate breakfast, I warmed up at the pool, we ate lunch, I rested and took a short nap, and it was time to board the bus. Once we arrived at the beach everything moved very quickly and changed into my suit and got numbered. We were told to head down into the river and I began wading out. The river is very silty and the river bottom is so muddy that every step I took I sunk down in it. I started swimming as soon as it was deep enough to warm up a bit and to find the starting point. There was no gate or any designation of a starting point, but the men in boats were shouting instructions in Spanish. Up until this point there was always someone on hand to translate, so I began to get very frustrated that THIS would be the moment I was unsure what was going on. I shouted back “No hablo Espanol!” but they just continued to shout in Spanish and point. The swimmers began to congregate so this was my best clue to what I was supposed to be doing. As we were waiting for the start I began shaking my competitors hands and wishing them luck, assuming that I would have some warning before the gun went off. I was shaking Spanish swimmer Ester Nunez’s hand just as the gun went off, and she let out a little squeal and then the race had begun.

The race was very short, lasting around 40 minutes. The current was strong and before I knew it I had already reached the island. I fell behind the main pack fairly quickly, as I had simply come unprepared to sprint a 5K. For awhile I was neck and neck with Vanessa Garcia of Argentina but began to pull ahead until I was leading her 20 meters or so. My crew in the row boat were excellent and very engaged in helping me succeed. I was surprised by this, as I had assumed that the boaters would be secretly pulling for the Argentinian swimmers. I was confused at how much Anne and the boaters were signaling me to swim closer to the boat and then immediately signaling me to move away from the boat, until I realized that there were quite a few hazards (such as tree branches) on the course.

I had planned to increase my speed when I rounded the island and try to use the adverse conditions to pull ahead. I rounded the island quite beautifully with a few corkscrew strokes and hit the current like a wall. I tried to increase my stroke rate but found that I still didn’t have a higher gear. I was swimming in the shallowest water I could where the current would be weaker, and my arms (I’m a strait arm swimmer) were hitting the weeds with every stroke like a weed whacker. I got tangled twice: once in a plant and once in a wire of some sort. I was scooping mud with my hands on my underwater pull. Anne began signaling me that I was losing rank. I glanced back and saw that Vanessa was gaining on me quickly. Frustrated, I tried again to increase my stroke rate, to no avail. Vanessa was really going after it and managed to go around me, and I took the opportunity to draft for awhile and save some energy.

After a few minutes of drafting off of Vanessa I began to feel stronger. The pace started to feel too slow so I tried a few times to go around her, but it was a very tight squeeze and I was wedged between her and her row boat. I decided to be patient and wait for my opportunity to pass. My cap had begun to slip off but I swam on anyway, knowing that I needed to wait to adjust it until I was again swimming with the current. We got to the end of the island where there was supposed to be a buoy to turn. There was no buoy but the three boats (my boat, Vanessa’s boat, and another “helper” boat) were enthusiastically signaling us to follow them. Again I decided against making my move, instead staying behind Vanessa and sighting off of her and letting her do the hard navigational work. At this point, I saw another boat drive by with the buoy in the back. Later I learned that the men’s winner, Trent Grimsey of Australia, had gotten caught on the anchor rope and the buoy had broken and begun to float away.

Once we turned the invisible buoy I knew it was time to make my move. I stopped quickly to pull down my cap a bit and took off. For the first time the entire race I started to feel good and increase my pace. I went around Vanessa quickly and a few minutes later Anne was signaling to me that I could adjust my cap again. I stopped and adjusted the cap a little better than the first time and looked back at Vanessa who at this point was about 40 meters behind me. From that point on I knew that the only thing I could do is maintain my current position. As I swam into the finish, I was sighting the touch pad with every stroke. I began to get choked up a bit because even though this race was not what I had wanted or expected, I just felt incredibly lucky to be there. I finished and looked around at all the spectators clapping and cheering for me, and I couldn’t help but smile. Race workers rushed toward me to wrap me in a towel and help me out of the water. Paula, Silvina’s assistant whom I had grown close to over the course of the week, was there with a big smile to congratulate me. Jorge Delgado, the FINA official who was supposed to have been presiding over the marathon (as well as the head official for the Olympic 10k this year) congratulated me as well, telling me that I looked very strong. He was very encouraging and told me that I turned in a very good performance for my first race (especially under the circumstances) and asked if he could keep my cap as a souvenir. Anne handed it over, and I said “Take it! It doesn’t fit right anyway!”

The race organizers had told us that because it was a Monday, that no one would be at the race. It is true that the crowd was much smaller than it would have been for the full marathon, but it was still a larger crowd of spectators than any race I’ve ever swam. There was a group of Green Peace activists singing and playing music (in defense of river conservation) and I had some children approach me with programs and notebooks asking me to give them my signature. I took some more photos with spectators and headed back to the swimmer refreshments table. There I found a glorious amount of watermelon. I was in heaven.

After about an hour and a half we headed back to the hotel. Later that night there was an awards ceremony and a party afterward. We danced the night away and partied as only the Argentinian’s know how to party.

Even though this race was not what I had imagined or wanted, it was, as always, an incredible learning experience. I got my feet wet on the circuit and simultaneously gained confidence while identifying opportunities for improvement. I cannot wait to resume training with all of my new knowledge, and I really cannot wait to race again. So what if the Maraton Hernandarias-Parana still remains on my bucket list? What a great excuse to come back next year! At the end of the party on Monday evening I was approached by a man who handed me his business card and said “We wait for you in Santa Fe” before kissing me on the cheek and walking away. I looked down at the card and behold he was one of the organizers for the Santa-Fe Coronodo swim. I guess that’s a personal invitation.

Photos coming soon……

So on February 5th, I will join 22 other international competitors in a 9+ hour current assisted river swim. The swim, which is part of a river festival, will be spectated by thousands of Argentinian nationals, who line up along the shore to watch the swimmers go by in a tradition started in 1965. Accompanying me will be International Marathon Swimming Hall of Fame inductee and good friend Anne Cleveland as my support crewperson and the USA Swimming Coaching Representative.

I first set my eyes on this swim almost two years ago. Admittedly, it started out as a very personal and internal dream, something that I thought unlikely if not impossible and rarely dared to verbalize. Just getting this far involved changing my mindset, moving across the country, overhauling my lifestyle and training methods, and navigating a confusing qualification and application process While I still have another month and a half of training and logistical planning to go, I feel very good about the work that I have done thus far.

As is always the case in a situation such as this, credit is due to a number of people who have advised, mentored, and supported me thus far in this endeavor. My work is far from finished, but I find myself training smarter and swimming faster than ever before. I am looking forward to the opportunity to really put myself out there, to test my mettle and to grow as an athlete.

For more information (in Spanish) visit the Maratón Hernandarias-Paraná website here.

My week started out a bit stressful, with a phone call at 8:00am from the Burbank Airport , just as I was sitting next to the door waiting for my airport ride to pick me up. They informed me that my flight was delayed two hours and that I would miss my connecting flights (there were two). The United representative told me he was booking me on a flight out of LAX for 10:30. I still can’t believe that someone who LIVES in LA would suggest that I could make it from Hollywood to LAX during rush hour and make it through LAX security in 2.5 hours, but I figured I didn’t really have a choice. I called my ride, who wasn’t able to drive me to LAX and told her to turn around, then I jumped in my car to head toward LAX without much of a plan but hoping that I could work it out on the way.

As it turns out, I had plenty of time to work it out as I sat in rush hour traffic, and I ended up picking up another friend on the way who drove my car back to his house afterward and stored it in his garage for me while I was away. By the time I had arrived at LAX, I had already figured I had missed the flight so I called United again, who again booked me on a later flight on another airline that arrived in Charleston an hour earlier than my first flight. Luckily after all that everything went smoothly and my friend, fellow WKU alumn, and host for the week, Tate Nation, was waiting for me at the gate.

The next day we met up with one of his friends who had agreed to take us on a boat tour of the course. One of my pet peeves is the fact that I really never get to take in all the scenery when I’m racing, partially because it’s hard to see from the water and partially because I’m very focused on racing, not spectating. This was my chance to take in the view of the bridges, the historical areas such as “The Battery,” and the various marinas with the incredible boats docked there. The last third of the course is in a very rural area, with the main site to see being the marshes. The area of the course had very few major landmarks, something that ended up being a really good thing.

On Friday, Tate and I got up (at a ridiculous hour for someone still on Pacific Time, I might add) and headed to the Folbot headquarters to meet the team, take some pictures, and pick up some paddling equipment they were lending me for the race. We had a nice chat and then shot over to the finish to check it out, which happened to be only 5 minutes or so from Folbot. After that the main event for the day was paddler’s training for Tate. I was very fortunate to have the opportunity to attend a “Support Paddling for Open Water Swimmers” clinic this year with David Clark, who is by far one of the most knowledgeable people in the sport, especially in the area of support paddling. While I have no intention of ever taking up support paddling, the clinic was instrumental in teaching me how to train in my paddlers and learning the most efficient feeding procedures. As I travel all over the world for races I won’t always have the luxury of taking experienced paddlers with me, so this was an invaluable skill that I am deeply indebted to him for. Paddling practice was a bit rough the first day, so we decided that we would come back the next day for some more practice.

On Saturday, we went back to paddling practice and worked until we were satisfied that Tate had the all the procedures and hand signals down pat. As an added bonus we ended up playing a bit of hide-and-seek with a couple dolphins. A dolphin would surface nearby, I would take off swimming after it, and it would swim away and surface in another direction. They never really swam away from me so I can only imagine that they were enjoying the game as much as I was. I love listening to their happy dolphin chatter under water. Then after a quick shower we we had to book it over to the pre-race meeting in Mount Pleasant. At the pre-race meeting I had the chance to meet a few of the other swimmers (including Kathleen, the race director, whom I had never actually met in person, and Hopper, the owner of Swim Vacation) as well Gary and Melinda, the race photographers, who did a fabulous job. Both Tate and I received a lot of advice and instruction from the local paddlers and race organizers that was invaluable for me creating my race strategy.

Here’s what we knew going into the race:

The race directors had timed the race so that the average swimmer would swim with a current down the Cooper River, experience a tide change somewhere in the middle, and swim with the current again up the Ashley River. It was an in-water start and an in-water finish, with the finish being a bridge. The swimmers were to hug the peninsula shoreline as much as possible. Possible hazards included scrap metal, currents that could sweep a swimmer off course, commercial and recreational boat traffic, and alligators (ok, so everyone in Charleston denies this to be true, but they show up in people’s pools for heavens sake! Just in case Tate and I had decided on a hand signal to alert me of the presence of alligators.) The water was brackish, which means it was salt water mixed with fresh water and it was a very comfortable 70ish degrees.

Based on this information, I decided to swim at a reasonably comfortable speed down the Cooper river, in an effort to save energy and wait out the tide change. I knew that I would be ahead of the tide change and spend at least a portion of the race fighting the current up the Ashley. I decided upon a 30 minute feed schedule, with coconut juice at the half hour and gel/water on the hour.

The morning of, Tate dropped me and all the equipment off at Remley’s point, then drove to the finish to drop off his van and ride the race bus back to the start while I assembled the Folbot, prepared my feeds, greased up, and mingled with the other swimmers. Shortly after Tate returned we had to load the kayak, launch it, and before we knew it the race had started.

From Remley’s we had to book it across the shipping channels while the current was sweeping me South. The start was easy, no jostling, and within a few minutes I had taken the lead. I felt good and was focusing on keeping my stroke rate high (80 strokes per minute) while going a little light on the distance per stroke. We were blazing down the river and as we passed under the first bridge Tate reported that a dolphin surfaced right next to me, which I of course didn’t see. I was very pleased that the race seemed to be well covered safety-wise, and that the Coast Guard was very involved in supporting the swim. I swam with the letters “FC” marked on my shoulder blades in memory of Fran Crippen ( the swim occurred on the one-year anniversary of his death) as a way to raise awareness for the need for stronger safety measures in open water swimming, and this race did not disappoint.

Tate did a great job as my paddler, and even followed my instructions to keep smiling at me to keep my morale high. At one point I became irritated with him when he veered way off course, but I told myself to trust him. Turns out we were swimming around some scrap metal. Thanks for that, Tate!

The scenic portion of the swim went by very quickly, and I found myself in the rural portion of the course, fighting a very strong current. I was thankful that there were not a lot of large landmarks for me to look at, as that can be very depressing when you are swimming against a strong current and not moving as fast as you would like to. My stroke rate stayed high (78-80) but I began to pull harder. As I swam, I began to notice some familiar aches and pains and some new ones too. My left shoulder started to feel a little funky and my lower back was killing me which was normal enough, but I also made note that my hip flexors and my ankles were taking a beating. Eventually, all of these aches and pains phased out except my lower back. I was having a hard time keeping my race cap on, so Tate asked Kathleen, who was in the lead boat (I was accompanied by an entire flotilla of boats, Tate in the kayak, the lead boat, the sheriffs boat, and a boat from the coast guard.) if I could change out into the extra cap I had thrown in the kayak. She agreed and I changed out, which solved my cap issues.

As I made my way up the Ashley, I could tell the salinity was dropping and I could feel myself sinking lower in the water. There was a moderate chop and my stroke rate dropped to the lowest it had been the whole race, 76. It was the toughest part of the entire swim, and all in all I think I swam against the current for an hour and a half. As the tide bottomed out, I had to move closer to the center of the river because I began to touch Pluff Mud with my fingertips, the thick and fluffy stuff that lines the bottom of the rivers.

Soon though, I felt the current slackening, much to my relief. I had two bridges left, and right before I crossed under the first one Tate said “the lead boat says you are a mile away at this bridge.” I was shocked, as I had been tracking my swim time by feeds and I had been told to expect a 4.5 hour swim. “How long have I been swimming?” I asked.

“3:02” he said, “you’re gonna be under 4 hours.” Even though I was suspicious of the fact I couldn’t actually see this bridge that was only a mile away, I decided to trust them and put my head down and picked up the pace, assuming I had at most another 25 minutes, and if the currents were neutral to favorable, 20 or less. Another 30 minutes later I stopped and muttered a few choice words to Tate, who was really very understanding of my mental state (I forgot to warn him about that). I took my goggles off and finally I could see the bridge, which was hidden behind a point but still significantly farther than a mile away from the bridge before. I saw my finish, so I put my head down and cranked up the stroke rate. Tate began to push me on, looking nervously at his watch and hoping that I would break the four hour mark. As I swam under the finish bridge a dolphin surfaced next to me again,which of course I did not see. I did look to my right fast enough to see a floating Chik-Fil-A cup which made me think to myself that some food would be nice in another hour or two.

As I passed under the bridge there was another boat waiting to pick me up and take me to the dock where there were drinks, food, and my stuff waiting for me. For a moment I considered swimming back but then I just decided to go with the flow. It was quite possibly my least graceful entry to a boat of all time, and really I’m just glad I didn’t capsize it.

After the finish I found that the volunteers were not only helpful, but also very excited for me. After the boat dropped me off I spoke briefly to the father or one of the other competitors who was waiting at the finish. He was telling me it was his daughter’s first marathon swim and that “it is nice to see a woman out front.”

“Marathon swimming’s secret,” I said, “we women can hold our own.”

After a few minutes I started to feel a bit cold, and since Tate’s house wasn’t far away we decided to wait to see the next two competitors to finish and then run back to the house to get in a quick shower, since their were no facilities. When we got back we mingled some more, there was a quick awards ceremony, and I was presented with a very large granite plaque. Ultimately, I left it for Tate as a thank you and because I didn’t want to pay a fee for overweight baggage.

I can honestly say that I may have been more prepared for this swim than any other that I have ever done. I tend to cut things very close with little room for error, but I was pretty thorough and had plenty of time to devoted to race preparations. Support paddler training was a success and I can happily report that Tate and I did not experience any major snafus associated with our partnerships. I’ve heard of people running into their kayak, even breaking their arm in the process! The feeds were smooth and mostly under 5 seconds and we communicated non-verbally extremely well. Tate did a good job of setting the course but allowing me to set the pace. I was prepared physically, and I went into the race with a solid strategy.

The next day, Tate and I did some touristing and we finished up my stay in Charleston with a trip to the Griffon Pub on the recommendation from a friend. The pub was lined with dollar bills with things written on them, some of them obviously pretty old as they were yellow and crispy. I took a dollar bill and wrote “Tate and Mallory, celebrating a WIN in the Swim Around Charleston, 10/23/11 3:58” Then I stapled the bill to a decorative life preserver and we celebrated. As the very first winner of the SAC, I insist that this tradition be carried on by EVERY winner from now on.

After a long and uneventful trip from Charleston to LA on Tuesday, I showed up for an ocean circuit workout on Wednesday morning at Tower 26 in Santa Monica. Two days does constitute as “time off,” right?

My next order of business is to work out my race calendar and training program for 2012, which I promise will be much busier than 2011. I’ve got a lot of exciting new things planned, and I can’t wait to tell you about them!

*Note: More photos from the Swim Around Charleston coming soon!

Last October, I traveled to Bowling Green to attend Coach Powell’s WKU Athletic Hall of Fame induction. Arriving at the ceremony fashionably late after an incredibly cold Kentucky lake photo shoot, I hurried to grab a spot at the nearest table with an empty seat. Just as I was getting settled a man sitting at the table leaned over and whispered “Are you Mallory Mead? I recognize you from your photos!” It was Tate, and for the rest of the day, him, another WKU Swim Alumn Tom Selinger and I spent the day laughing, joking, and attending the day’s festivities.

Fast forward again to present times and I decided to give Charleston a go. I had a place to stay, a friend to paddle for me, and Gary Kerns and Clara Bennett were generous enough to sponsor my participation. I’m also looking forward to visiting the Folbot office and meeting the Folbot crew, which is headquartered in Charleston. Tate has been really great helping me work out the logistics of my stay. He has helped me find a boat and captain to take a boat tour of the course today, and Friday we will have the opportunity to go over the basics of support paddling, the mechanics of feeds, and hand signals, and get a little side-by-side practice in. Saturday there is a pre-race meeting and Sunday is the event. In between all of this he will be playing the role of tour guide, something he seems more than willing to do. He’s been great, and will sure make this a memorable visit!

On a more sober note, I will be dedicating this swim to Fran Crippen, the USA National team member who passed away during a World Cup Event in Dubai last year. The race takes place on the one-year anniversary of his death, and I will be swimming with the letters “FC” marked on my body in his memory. Even now, one year after his death, the sport still has a long way to go in the way of improvements in safety regulations and precautions, so please take a few minutes to visit  The Fran Crippen Elevation Foundation website to learn more about Fran and the Foundation created in his memory and consider making a donation.

Because of work/school commitments, Morgan and I were not able to leave LA for the race until 8:30pm……a four hour drive! By the time we arrived at hotel (a huge thanks to Nadine Treon!) and got ready for bed, the clock read 1:30, and I set the alarm for 4:00am (ouch). Luckily I’ve had some practice having to go to early morning practice after little or no sleep (thanks Western Kentucky University) so although I was greatly annoyed by my lack of sleep, it didn’t concern me too much.

We arrived at Sunset View at about 5:15am, assembled the Folbot Alcyone by the light of my Nissan Versa Athena’s headlights. Morgan and I had gone to Alamitos Bay earlier in the week to swim a Naples Island loop and practice feeding and support kayaking, so assembly procedure was still fresh in our mind and even in the dark we managed to get it together in 20 minutes, a new record for us! I checked in, slammed back two cans of Amy and Brian’s coconut juice to combat dehydration, and waited along with the other 8k swimmers for updates on the weather. A storm system was blowing around nearby, and the day before I saw lightning in Los Angeles for the first time since I moved here in January. When Kara said there were 5-7 mph winds and we would be swimming against a current, I did a little happy dance in my head knowing that bad conditions benefit my performance, since most people swim poorly in them and get discouraged by them. All the sudden we got word that we would be starting on time and I had to book it to the bathroom to get my suit on, apply some vaseline, and scarfed down one of my Carb Boom! Energy gels. Next thing I knew I joined 50+ other paddlers and swimmers in an odd 5 minute pilgrimage down to the waters edge through sticky weed, rocks, and dusty trails carrying one end of the kayak while wearing flip flops. I only fell on my butt once and started the race with a big red dirt smudge on my suit. Minutes later we started.

Possibly the Most Scenic Swim I Have Ever Done

Waiting to Hear If We Can Swim Or Not

Pilgrimage to Water’s Edge

The water temperature was a warm 78-80 degrees, not quite my cup of tea, but adequate. I started out smooth, trying not to go to hard too soon, confident that I had plenty of time to catch up to any jackrabbits. By the first feeding at 20 minutes, I was slightly irritated by a dull nagging pain in my shoulder, the lack of salt water-induced buoyancy, and the uncomfortably warm water (my ideal temperature for racing is mid 60s-low 70s). I had asked Morgan to keep relaying positioning information to me throughout the race, so he yelled out “6^th Place!” as I gulped down my coconut juice in 5 seconds. Not worried I continued on, focusing on following his lead and keeping a good catch to avoid a major shoulder blowout. By the second feed at around 45 minutes into the race, I was dismayed when he again yelled out “6^th Place!” Surely, I should have caught a person or two by now. While I was swimming I decided that I wanted to focus on winning the women’s race so in mid stroke I yelled out “Babe!” stroke stroke “Women!” stroke stroke “Pink!” stroke stroke. I was wearing a pink cap, and there were also green caps, so I incorrectly assumed Pink meant women and Green meant men, a mistake Morgan realized later in the race. Looking back, I should have expressly asked the volunteer that checked me in what the different cap colors meant.   I suspect that Pink meant a Grand Slam swimmer while Green meant a strictly 8k Swimmer. At my next feeding Morgan yelled out “Fourth!” so I asked “Overall?” “No, Women, but you are tied!” he said, (incorrect because of my assumption; I was fourth pink cap) By this time I knew I was one hour in and getting a little bit cranky. I could see some splashing and saw that a green cap was neck and neck to me. Within a few minutes I had pulled ahead and was leaving the green cap behind. Even though I had pulled to into 5^th place, I was still suffering a bit mentally, as I felt a bit pressured turn out a good performance. I began focusing on my technique to relieve some strain developing in my neck and did my best to follow Morgan and trust he was keeping a good line. Up until then I had been sighting too much, nervous that we were going out of our way. Trusting your paddler is an important component of any guided swim……a good or bad paddler can make or break a swim!

Just as I was fighting a little mental battle in my head, I noticed Morgan suddenly stop paddling and drift back a few yards. There, hidden on the other side of the kayak, I was neck and neck with a pink cap! This was the moral boost I needed, and I put my head down and increased my tempo a bit. As I raced I no longer noticed the shoulder pain or the neck strain, and as I left the swimmer behind I did a quick sight and noticed that a pink cap that I had been trailing by 20 meters or so was now 10 meters ahead of me. This was the critical turning point in the race and from that point on I began to enjoy myself. I also noticed that there was a right turn ahead in the shoreline, and if there is anything I have learned about swimming in open water for the last 15 years its that directional changes lead to condition changes. I was hoping that the winds I was promised at the beginning of the race would hit when we rounded the point so that I could make my move.

A few minutes later we made the turn, and behold, my winds were waiting for me! All the sudden it was like I was swimming in a washing machine, with chop throwing me and Morgan around, making it really hard to hold a rhythm. At this point I reduced my distance per stroke a bit and turned the tempo up a notch or two, and I watched as I zoomed past the pink cap. Morgan held up three fingers and at my next feed told me “First Woman!” (He had realized my cap-category error by this point). After about 15 minutes of heavy chop, the winds and the water calmed. About 30 minutes after I passed the pink cap I did a backstroke roll so I could look back and I was 40 or so meters ahead of the same pink cap. After that I never looked back. I felt satisfied by my position, knowing that it was unlikely I would catch the two men in front of me, and I focused on holding my tempo. As we closed in on the finish I resisted the urge to sprint to the finish, as I knew I still had another 1.2 mile ahead of me.

Here is the part where I explain a rather embarrasing mistake on my part. When I had been planning the itinerary for the swim, I somehow got the idea that the 1.2 mile started before I would be done with my 8k, and I very clearly remember the words “after you finish your 8k you must check in with the timers before your 1.2 mile.” Because of this, I had deducted that I was supposed to exit the water, check-in, then immediately re-enter the water for the 1.2 mile portion. However, as I was swimming I realized that I had never studied the course map for the 1.2 mile, only the 8k, and I knew that the kayaks would not accompany us on the 1.2 mile, so I was stressing that I wouldn’t know where to go. As I ran up the ramp (I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that the finish was at a concrete boat launch, which made life easier for me since I tend to fall over at sandy or rocky finishes) I turned to the smiling volunteers and kept barking “Where do I go?!” and was getting slighting irrated as they casually pointed up the beach while clapping and cheering for me. I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t tell me where I had to go next! Finally, as I checked in I asked the lady at the table who told me “You can go over there and get some water and relax a bit.” “You mean, I am done for right now?” I asked. She looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. “Let me get this straight, I do not have to go right now for the 1.2.” Her face lit up and she said “No, you’ve got about an hour before the start of the 1.2.” By this time, I felt really silly and I wanted to do the finish over again, so I could high five the volunteers and thank them. So, finish volunteers, if you are reading this, I apologize for exiting the water and running around like a banchee yelling “where do I go now!?!”

As promised, about an hour later, I re-entered the water for the 1.2 mile. Because I had finished so far ahead in the 8k (yet too far behind the two men in front of me) I knew that my position in the Grand Slam was pretty secure, that it was unlikely I would move up or fall behind in the 1.2mile. I decided to take the 1.2 a bit easy and to not fight it out at the start. I knew that if I took it out the way I would normally take it out in a 1.2 mile that I would crash and burn, so I fell back for a slower start and once again spent the race picking swimmers off one by one. It was a rather uneventful race, and as I exited I asked a spectator “how many women were in front of me?” She looked at me with wild eyes and said enthusiastically, “Why, you are the first one!” I was surprised, but I was more so just realieved to be done for the day. It was a tough day of racing and I learned a few good lessons!

There were a few things that were really fun/unique about this race. The first, obviously, was the double header format. Also, it was at a lake in the middle of the desert! As we were driving to the start at 4:40am Morgan had asked me irritably “why don’t they start these things a bit later in the day?” By noon the answer to that question became quite obvious as the air temperature had risen to what I would guess to be a sweltering 100 degrees. There was an Elvis impersonator running around interviewing swimmers as they finished, and I received what was quite possibly the most awesome prizes I have ever won……..a gift certificate for a massage and a new Xterra wetsuit (for those who have asked, while I don’t wear wetsuits to train or race, I DO use them when I teach!). I saw a few of my friends, including my Catalina observer Lynn Kubasek, and I met a bunch of new people too. I can’t wait to go back again next year!

The “Oak Streakers” + Me

Unfortunately Morgan and I had a lot to do back in LA, so we didn’t waste any time getting back. We did, however, stop for lunch at Steak N Shake in the Grand View Casino, the only Steak N Shake I know of within a 4 hour drive from my apartment. It was 2pm and the only solid thing I had eaten all day was half of a granola bar at 5:30am, so I scarfed down my double mushroom swiss burger, fries, cottage cheese, and milkshake like there was no tomorrow…….hey, I earned it!

Earlier in the week I had committed to go for an ocean swim with a group of ocean swimmers at 7:30am on Sunday at Manhattan Beach, something that I immediately started regretting on the way back from Vegas. However, once I bit the bullet and went anyway, I found that I didn’t feel that bad and I enjoyed my moderately-paced 5.5K from Manhattan to (almost) Hermosa and back in gently rolling swells. The ocean is great for recovery swims, as the cold water helps reduce swelling.

Results

The next and final race of the season is the 12 mile Swim Around Charleston on October 23rd……..details coming soon!

Slam the Dam takes place in my namesake, Lake Mead (ever heard of the Hoover Dam? Yeah, its THAT Dam) and includes a 1.2 mile, 2.4 mile, and an 8k race. Then, as if that isn’t enough choices, you can also choose to sign up for the Grand Slam (1.2 AND the 2.4) or the Super Slam (1.2 and 8k), which makes five different ways to compete. Of course I signed up for the Super Slam, which will require I bring my sprinting game!

I’ve heard nothing but good things about Slam the Dam from those who participated last year, and I am looking forward to treking it out to Las Vegas for the event. While I’m there I’m planning on scoping out SLV a bit to find out how they operate. Imagine, an Open Water Swimming Club! I also heard on the grapevine that SLV has got some exciting stuff planned for 2013, so keep your ears peeled.

If you are interested in Slam the Dam HERE is the registration form. You can save $10 on mail-in registrations received by September 15 and $5 on an online registration through Active.com using this code: SLV0511.

At the race I was accompanied by my husband Morgan (we dubbed him the “Sherpa” since he was in charge of walking the two miles between the start and the finish with our stuff) my training partner Alex, his partner Steve, and their guest for the weekend Elijah. Surprise! Surprise! I also managed to pick up Darren Miller (who is in town from Pennsylvania preparing for a Catalina Crossing on Tuesday) and Jen Shumacher (my swim twin down in Irvine) who were not swimming but came to watch. The whole race made me feel like I’ve been living in Los Angeles for years, not months, as every 2 minutes I’d run into someone I knew, either through coaching, training, or observing with the Catalina Channel Swimming Federation. The whole thing made SoCal seem like a small place!

Wake up Steve, it’s time to race!

Me and the Sherpa Morgan Mead.

I took this opportunity to try out a few new things. I decided to wear a racing suit (shown here from FINIS ) instead of my usual tank-style with thin straps variety. Since this was a “sprint”race for me, I was willing to chance the constriction of the suit, particularly in my shoulders in favor of the speed gains.

I also decided to try out a new trick that Dawn Heckman told me about: to wear a flotation device on my goggles in case they got knocked off. The night before, I ran up to Morgan and said “Morgan, find me a flotation device for my goggles!” and then ran away to make other preparations. Here is what he jerry-rigged for me out of an empty travel shampoo bottle and a rubber band. It caught the attention of a few of my competitors, that all seemed to think it was a good idea when I explained it to them. It was a little odd looking, for sure, but it did the trick in the last minute of the race when I got hit by a wave from behind (this was for sure, an amateurish mistake on my part…….never turn your back to the ocean!) and my goggles went with. Now these are currently my last pair of goggles until I get some in the mail, so I was frantically searching for them in the foam. Alas, there they popped up on the surface, bobbing aroud for me to grab on my way out up to the finish line. As I ran through the finish gate I saw Morgan on the sidelines and I yelled “It worked!”

It doesn't look pretty, but it's functional.

I also took a chance that I probably shouldn’t have taken. Since the water was warm (70 degrees) and the air was cold (50ish and windy) I opted out of warming up because I didn’t want to start shivering before the start. Instead I jumped around to get my heart rate up and stretched. There are tradeoffs here, and looking back, I think I would have been better off to go ahead and get in. Sometimes I take as long as 4k to begin to warm up, so 0k warmup + 3K race obviously equals miserary.

Going in to the race, I had a major tactical disadvantage. The race start was split into two heats: men in the first and women+wetsuit swimmers in the second heat. There were a few women in the first heat with the men, and they earned the spot due to finishing in the top ten women from 2010. I however, did not swim in 2010, so I was stuck in the second heat, which left five minutes after the men’s heat. I spent the entire race swimming an obstacle course around the slower men, whereas the women in the first heat had the opportunity to draft off of the faster men. I was the first woman out of the water from the second heat, and other than a woman in a wetsuit that spent the majority of the race drafting off of me, I saw my last “yellow cap” (or swimmer from heat two) about 5 minutes after the start.

So for the race play by play:

The men took off, and the women moved forward to the starting gate. I took a position just left of the main pack of women who were lining up just right of the course buoy line. I find that the outside position is less crowded and less physical than the “prime” position. As we were waiting for the start the lifeguard comes up to me and whispers “you’ve got an advantage, there is a rip current in front of you.” Now most of you have heard the term rip current before only in a negative context (they are a major cause of drownings at the beach because they move out, and people struggle against them trying to come back in until the get tired) but for an ocean swimmer trying to get out past the wave break as fast as possible, they are preferable. I have learned a little bit about rip currents since moving out here and tried to identify the rip she was talking about, but I couldn’t see it. I also couldn’t feel it once the race started, so I suspect that it was gone by the time we started, but who knows. What I do know is that the gun went off, and I ran down to the beach, noting that other people were much better runners than I. In my defense, I was holding back because the last thing I wanted to do was to start my race by face planting in the sand in front of hundreds of eager racers and being trampled to death. I once did a trail run in Indiana the first weekend of December on an icy day, and the race organizers warned us to be careful at the start because it was the only portion on pavement and was also on a hill. Guess who was the first and only person to fall on their bum? I successfully made it to the water without incident and was greeted by a fantastic 70 degree ocean and turbulent waters (my favorite kind!) I made it through the wave break quickly and was thankful for the in and out practice I’ve been putting in at my bootcamp. It was a good 300 meters to the pier, and before I got there I had already begun to overtake some men from the first heat. As I had planned, I found myself swimming with plenty of space between me and my competitors, and when I breathed to my right I could see a main pack forming of 10-15 women duking it out. Experience counts!

Heat 2 lining up, you can see me just right of the wooden sign with the kneesuit on.

The worst time to face plant.

I rounded the pier without incident, and this was the last time I saw the main pack of women. For the rest of the race I found myself swerving in and out and around men and being followed by a woman in a wetsuit. About 1/3 of the way into the race I noticed my caps were slipping off. I was wearing my normal silicone cap with the latex race cap on top. I had originally planned to wear the race cap only but I could tell that it didn’t fit right and was hoping that if it came off I would still be wearing my silicone cap underneath. No dice as the race cap pulled the silicone cap off with it. I tried continuing on without stopping, but the caps (being held on by my goggle straps) were filling with water and acting as a parachute on the back of my head. They were pulling on my goggle straps, causing the goggle gaskets to dig into my eyes and causing me a lot of pain. A little over halfway I decided to stop, take my goggles and caps off, and put them all back on. At this time the woman in the wetsuit pulled ahead of me. I lost about 30 seconds-1 minute fumbling with my cap and goggles and then started up again. Within 5 minutes I once again overtook the woman in the wetsuit, this time leaving her behind.

The winds were up and the course was rough. I kept my stroke rate high and had little trouble. I did swallow more sea water than usual and started to feel a little sick to my stomach, but certainly nothing to be worried about. If anything I just felt out of shape. But as Morgan said “if you are out of shape then I am a shapeless blob!”

As I rounded Manhattan Pier, I was in familiar territory. I swim around Manhattan Pier all the time! I swam in, watching behind me and speeding up to catch swells, and found myself swimming in during a lull. I was a bit disappointed that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to body surf, but the next set rolled in just as I was standing up to run in and though I tried to duck under the wave that was carrying competitors over my head, I caught the some of it and thats when my goggles flipped off. Once the wave rolled back out I grabbed my goggles and ran to the finish gate.

Right after I found my goggles.

Whats the deal with all this running?

I was the first “yellow cap” out of the water and finished 1^st in my age group, 4^th amongst women, and 28^th Overall. Not too bad, especially since two miles is really too short for me to get going. Alex finished first overall, and when asked, he couldn’t tell me how many titles this makes for him! To be honest I was exhausted for the rest of the day. I had a major dehydration-induced headache, and my lats and hamstrings were sore and my shoulders were tight from the suit. I got home and decided to lay down for a short nap that lasted 3 hours, and bummed around the house for the rest of the day.

Ultimately, while this race hurt a lot, I would do it again in heartbeat, if for no other reason than its a great swimmer social event! Besides, every race is a learning experience!

To learn more about Culver City Swim Club (CCSC), visit http://www.culvercityswimclub.com/.

Culver City Plunge Home of CCSC Culver. City Plunge is Located at 4175 Overland Avenue, Culver City, CA