Deer Creek                      8-14-2010





“A man’s life is interesting primarily when he has failed—I well know. For it’s a sign he tried to surpass himself.”

-Georges Clemenceau



I’m not really sure where I want to go with this post so I’m just going to type and hope that it’s worth the time you spend reading it and are maybe able to take something away from it. I know that the preface to my blog perhaps wasn’t that clear in understanding so I will start there. The vast majority of my writing style is using riddles or writing to ‘be read in-between the lines.’ Sometimes on the other hand I am very literal to exact definitions of the words I use. Indeed my vocabulary isn’t picked wily nilly, but meticulously put together like a puzzle fitting every word and sentence together exactly. If you were to read my poetry this would be better understood. Using these devices is a neat way to pour out feelings without fear of being exposed. Such is the writer’s mind I suppose. Going back to the title: “Swimming Towards Redemption,” I would think it obvious that I don’t mean to imply that by any achievement in the water will save my soul. It’s just a fancy short way of saying, “By swimming and achieving small goals and pushing myself to bigger ones, I will ‘atone’ for quitting my high school team and prove to myself that I can do what I set out to do. Even though I was getting slower I could’ve kept going then and still can now.”

If you are a constant visitor to my blog you have heard about my family in every post and you will again here. Please forgive me for my redundancies. God and my family are truly the source of my strength. Without their vast love and continued support I would simply lack the power. I remember when I was a young boy at the Doctors for my checkup that I went to every 3 months to keep an eye on my kidneys. The Doctor talked about how I shouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the morning, and I was hit with an intense outpouring of love and instantly knew that this was able because God gives me the strength. On countless occasions since various Doctors and specialists have stood baffled at lab results and medical anomalies that had no medical explanation. My parents and I during these moments would steal glances to one another and with a smile testify of our knowledge and give our thanks. To remember this daily blessing I have a little saying that I repeat in my mind or whisper under my breath when I am starting a race, or even just to train. “I swim with God.” Or “God swims with me.”

When my brother began to get into triathlons the resentment I had for myself that I took out on swimming began to evaporate and found that it was again okay to get into the pool and renew the love I had previously lost. A couple years past and I competed in a few triathlons with him and my sister.

From triathlons Josh’s interest was turned to open water swimming. He mentioned a book he read and parts of the stories it contained. I bought Swimming To Antarctica, by Lynne Cox and within the first two pages I was hooked. Her accounts of endless determination and overwhelming training was a great inspiration to me and planted a desire to push myself that clung to every line that my eyes passed over and was nourished by every chapter. By the end of the book this desire conceived a determination to make a memoir of my own swims and journey that led me to them. We picked out many races to be possibilities and decided on a race held at Alcatraz to be the first. After an incredible trip with the family and an amazing experience at the race, we faced the sad fact these illustrious trips weren’t going to fit the budget every year and shifted focus to local open water events.

With one race completed my confidence in being able to accomplish greater goals was growing and my will was a snowballing force barreling downhill unopposed. With my next race set for Deer Creek where I would attempt my first 5k, I began a furious schedule and got to training. I’ve found that whenever I take time off from any sport that the first day back is the most important. The more I’m able to push that first time back the stronger I am and the easier training will be. That first workout I powered through the water with the grace and strength of a dolphin and the hunger and malice of an Orca preying after a seal, focused and relentless. I had found a new depth of character that I’ve never had before in my life. After just an hour in the pool I had swam thousands of yards while working through several different sets. Sprints, ladders, distance, pull, and land all played a role in bringing my body out of hibernation. With acception of being on a team I usually compete to enjoy myself and improve my own time not worrying about anyone else. This time I wanted to compete and see where I would end up in the standings.

For the next couple of workouts I doubled my distance and speed each day. The next several weeks my fury continued and focus shifted to mechanics rather than brute strength whereas as I’ve gotten older have learned the two are symbiotic, the one improving the other. I was riding such a high and getting anxious to prove myself and have the hours of training pay off. To reinforce my thinking, I wasn’t being cocky I had just never been so focused and determined. Inevitably a fall was sure to be coming my way.

It was beautiful mid-August morning, a perfect day for a swim. After the 10 mile and the 10k racers had started it was time for all the 5k swimmers to get in the water. My dad who was in the kayak to be my support boat to toss me snacks or fluid as I needed and I entered the water. It was a very pleasant temperature in the 60’s. As part of my strategy I swam to the front left flank of the group. Starting in the front would allow me a little distance ahead of anyone behind me that was faster while being on the left side I had a more direct path towards the buoy that marked the halfway point. The horn sounded and the first couple hundred yards was an all out sprint to gain separation as well as position. After this initial push was over I stretched out my stroke and got into a comfortable pace. I was feeling good and had a small group behind me that I kept an eye on looking over my shoulder every once in awhile to keep on the offensive gauging their distance from me and to stop any attempt to overtake me.

I was getting close to the turnaround when things fell apart. My swim cap was squeezing tight on my forehead and causing a headache. After a couple practices the weeks preceding I had the same problem and told my family half jokingly that I’d have to wear a cap around the house working my way up to sufficient time to endure the race. I should’ve. I stayed in one place and waded thinking what to do and hoping that it might pass in a few moments. My dad paddled over and asked if I needed a drink or anything to eat. I told him that I didn’t and all I needed was to get out. At the time I couldn’t think about how to solve it so to my gut wrenching regret and utter humiliation I swam to the edge of the reservoir and got out. It was the longest hike up to the road and all the way back to the parking lot that I had had to make, in which tears freely flowed unrestricted. I failed again. I started this post in the hope that it would turn into something great, that some great epiphany or lesson would be learned…But all I was able to reveal was that I give up too easily.