Winston Churchill
Travelling north for the Taupo 'Epic Swim' event it was 10:30am when I first had the opportunity to assess Lake Taupo. Travelling up on the day of an event is something I don't normally do, but with the race starting at 1:30pm this seemed like a good option. The south end of the lake was like a millpond. Feeling happy with the world and by the minute growing in confidence that i'd make the two hour cut-off for the five kilometre swim, I continued driving north...noting the water's surface looking a tad less flat as we progressed north.
My first thought as we arrived for registration at the northern end of the lake was, "It's probably been postponed". It hadn't. I could see swimmers competing in the New Zealand 10km Championships, with swimmers only visible 50% of the time due to the waves they were amongst. Registration followed, as did my seemingly good (at the time) decision to drop off all of my gear at our accommodation in the 50 minutes before the race was due to start. I found myself standing on the beach a while later, with 15 minutes until the race briefing, a wetsuit in my hand, and much trepidation about the task at hand. It was not lost on me that our cabin was number 13, and the gate to get out of the camp ground wouldn't open when we tried to get to the swim.
The warm-up was perfect, with rough waves being easily parted as I swam effortlessly back and forth for around five minutes. I felt great as I exited the water and placed some squeezies in the sleeves of my arms and legs. With two hours in the water it would be a tad foolish to go without some kind of energy replacement. The briefing was about five minutes of rough water advice, comments about remaining calm, and a plead to not fight the waves. This was then followed by a 20 second snippet adding the direction we would swim in and where the starting area was. The conditions would be well summed up by the race announcer pointing out that a finisher of the 10km race was coming in, but then realising that it was in fact a duck in the water. His final comment was, "You have three minutes to get to the start". As a group we headed out together and all of a sudden I didn't feel so flash.
I still don't recall what started the race, but everyone left at once, with my breathing very poor right from the start. I also struggled to deal with the larger waves, and at about the 200 meter mark thought about putting my hand up and signalling that it was game over for me. I continued on though, with breast stroke needing to be used for about a quarter of the swimming. It was slow going to say the least. The other issue was my wetsuit clinging to my chest, which left me feeling like I could'nt breath in. It would be fair to say that this was a low point.
Map of the course
At this point I made two decisions. Firstly, I grabbed the front of my wetsuit and let some water in. This freed up my breathing slightly. Second though, I made the decision that I probably wouldn't make the two hour cut-off, so if I was advised that I was out of the event I would simply hand over my transponder, my race cap, and would tell them i'm finishing the distance regardless. This decision got me out of a negative mind set, and inside saw me accept that I had control over certain aspects of the race, with better efforts producing a faster time. I was probably about 500 meters into the race, so plenty of time to put things right.
At about this stage the base of the lake, (which seemed almost within arms reach for much of the swim), was covered in more and more golf balls. I probably saw 1000 to 1500. There is a golf 'hole in one' competition on the lake, but here's the thing - We were swimming a hundred meters beyond the target!! Reaching the first corner buoy - Thus completing a quarter of the event - I decided it was time for some energy intake. Two unexpected things then happened. Firstly, I realised that I couldn't swim and retrieve a squeezy, so i'd sink while retrieving the gel, and would then swallow what I could before quickly going again. Secondly, the life guards, (who were looking for drowning swimmers), would start heading towards me at a great speed each time I repeated this process, which left me with a life guard watching me closely for the next five minutes.
Nearing the end of Lap 1 I asked a life guard if they had the time. This was to prove to be a pivotal moment in the event for me. "It is 2:31pm", came the reply. I was 250 to 300 metres from the start of Lap 2, and had already take 61 minutes. I wondered how long the event would really take, and . At this point I was passed by one of the 10km swimmers. He was flying, and attempting to slipstream behind him had little benefit for me. I watched him head towards the finish as I turned right to start Lap 2 it became apparently that the lake had calmed considerably.
At the finish and happy with the world...once I knew I had made the 2 hour cutoff
Within a hundred metres of starting Lap 2 the thought about making the two hour cut-off started to repeat itself. Finishing the event had been decided on one lap earlier, but the time had arrived to decide on what this day would represent. I had one key question. "How much do I want to crack two hours??". I decided that even if it screwed up the remainder of the weekends training I would go for it. With the corner buoy well off in the distance, but visible, I made a point of every single stroke being full and honest. No going through the motions or 'trying'. I would do this or would end up being pulled from the water.Nearing the corner buoy that would mark the three quarter mark I passed a swimmer I had been tracking. Having someone a minute or so ahead was a great motivator, and I knew they would in turn attempt to lock in on me. So killing two birds with one stone I floored it as I passed them, and they tucked in behind me for a short while until they suddenly fell back. My next target swimmer was about two minutes ahead of me, and I told myself that they would complete the swim in exactly two hours. Finish ahead of them and i'd make it.
Time for my third and final squeezy as the finishing line - Now just 1,200 meters away - came into sight. Reaching for the much needed fuel I accepted (after several attempts) that I wasn't having it. The gel had worked it's way up my leg and was now out of reach. With boats coming towards me, (for what probably appeared to be a drowning swimmer), I knew that this was it. Seldom looking up I knew that I had to really push hard to have any chance. Half way towards the final buoys I was starting to wane. "I've had tough conditions and will finish, so it was a good attempt", I thought. Then I stopped swimming and looked ahead. "No - I'm still in the water and this event is still happening - There will be no eulogy just yet!!". I then pushed on at the same pace as the last 1,500 meters had seen, and it was at about this point I thought about a different family member as I passed each of the smaller orange buoys. The fuel tank was getting low.
Getting to about 300 meters of the final buoys I was poked. The big aimed was attempting to keep good form now, as thrashing about in the water wouldn't assist me to the finish. My goal now was simply to get to the buoy. Then 50 meters to the next one, and another 50 meters to the finish. It would be fair to say that I had an empty tank for those final moments, with my one thought to keep a straight line for the finish so I wouldn't have to swim one foot further than necessary. Getting to the finish I put my wrist, (with the transponder), over the timing mat repeatedly to ensure that my time was recorded. I then turned around to Ruth and asked the time. It was 3:29pm. I fell to the ground and punched the air with relief. The second lap had taken approximately 53 minutes and I was completely stuffed, but at the same time elated.
To put this swim into perspective, the person who I had been tracking for the last 2,000 meters crossed the finish line and simply stood on the beach looking into space. Ruth pointed them out to me while I was still shaking hands with anyone who approached me, (I think it was obvious to all that I was happy with the event). The swimmer then walked towards the lake and threw up just before getting to the water. Apparently this was not an isolated incident. Many experienced swimmers had a tough day at the office, with Hana Wolzak (who has successfully completed the Cook Straight swim), finishing just ten minutes before me.
Buggered
Those getting out after me looked tired and fairly despondent about the swim. I however checked my time with the organisers and it was confirmed that the two hour cut-off had been made. With no watch on I had no idea what the time was during the swim, so it was a relief to hear that the time was 1:58:43. A two hour run was to follow this event, and as I set off to run the Ironman run course I looked down towards the lake which now looked so calm and peaceful. My legs were sore when the run was completed, but I was still buzzing...and wondered how many I lined up against had been swimming for just six months.
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