over the years—approximately two, though possibly as many as three---one of them stands above the rest: you can't really compare pool
with its open-water cousin. To me, that would be a lot like comparing road cycling and mountain biking, or bicycling and unicycling, or wine and beer, or apples and oranges. While there
similarities with all these things, so too are there major differences. Especially with mountain biking and apples. (
In all seriousness, or some seriousness anyway, one of the biggest lessons I had been taught when I first hopped in the pool was that form was EVERYTHING.
Form, as in technique or skill. Without grasping the concept of
proper technique, it's difficult to become a proficient pool swimmer. ("Proper", by the way, is only ever
individually proper…think
optimal.) Keep in mind though that at the top level of competitive swimming (i.e., the Olympics), there are far more similarities in stroke mechanics than there are differences.
Open-water swimming, however, is as much about drafting and stroke rate and
muscle as it is about technique---if not more so. You can forget all that nonsense about "distance-per-stroke" and "rotation" and "hand entry" and whatnot.
This is especially the case with long-course triathlon, where the swim is really only ever about setting ourselves up for the remainder of the day...oh, and dealing with the masses trying to drown us. And of course in addition to other swimmers/flailers, we're also forced to negotiate cold temperatures (
though the pools in Europe tend to be colder than most oceans and lakes), currents, waves, tsunamis, sharks, electric eels, Orcas, man-eating turtles, microbial secret agents, floating debris, a lack of lane lines (
humans NEED lines!), fishing line (
humans NEED lines!), kelp, undertows, salt, runaway buoys, turns, boats, toxins, jellyfish, a lack of lifeguards, wind, sailors (and their incessant cussing), the Navy, submarines, whirlpools,
the enormous intense orb to the east,
mermaids, icebergs,
wetsuits,
oil spills, sand, sea horses, volunteers, and a whole host of other predicaments and impediments, all of which would easily be overcome with enough firepower, if only fire worked in water.
Open-water swimming, you see, ain't quite the safety net that is pool swimming. Indeed, it is more like mixed martial arts than it is swimming, though thankfully there are no cages. (One might argue that a cage would be nice to have when sharks are present.) And to think there are still some folks who believe that triathlon is a non-contact sport!
In this vein, let me share with you, if I may, a short aqua-account from the days of yore, back when MTV actually played music videos…
Years ago I was safely situated in the lead swim group during the Hawaiian Ironman. I had found myself there because of a deep but wholesome fear of the ocean; the sooner I could escape its immensity and its ferocity, the better off I'd be. Fear works wonders like this. Anyway, there were about fifteen of us there, with a couple of speedier swimmers a minute or two off the front. I'd have joined the amphibious pair---Nate Llerandi and Wolfgang Dietrich---had I been able to, but reasoned that sharks were more likely to strike had I been the one leading the charges. (One never knows.)
So I stuck within the safety net of the school. And life was good until I found myself sandwiched between a guy named Dave Scott and another by the name of Tony DeBoom. Both, you see, are "strength swimmers", muscling their way through the water and anything that happens to be floating in it. Well, I tried gently to persuade the two, through various gestures and tactical maneuvers, to depart my side. The splashes they'd been creating, along with the knocks to the head and ribcage, were just too much. At one point the two even criss-crossed over the top of me! Here we had an entire ocean and here we had a problem with crowding.
Lots of bubbles…lots of trouble,
as the B-52's might sing.
Finally, I decided that I too could play their game, throwing a hard elbow at one of them. It was Tony I could tell, as Dave possessed a much uglier turn-over and continued his splashy tsunami-stroke. I eventually decided to defer, settling in on Dave's feet. I wouldn't see Tony again, at least not until mile 80 or so on the bike, when he rode up beside me. He had a steady stream of blood flowing down his face. I played dumb (a feat that normally doesn't require much acting on my part).
"What the hell happened?!"
"Some asshole broke my nose during the swim!"
Indeed it
did appear abnormally large and off-kilter, but then I'm not one to speak. At least my schnozz hadn't created a potentially lethal curiosity among the local shark population. Nor was it staining my singlet.
Since it's well-known that misery loves company, I considered consoling Tony and mentioning my aching elbow, but then thought better of it. He had, after all, been an Army Ranger at one point, the sort of guy who could kill a man just by staring him down long enough. Not even Chuck Norris is as tough. I pedaled hard and left him behind once more, throbbing elbow and all.
Which brings me back to my point of open-water swimming. (
Actually, it doesn't, but I had to get here somehow.) My point is that there's virtually no need to look smooth or worry about your stroke or your
efficiency in the ocean or in a lake; the fish certainly don't care, and the spectators waiting on terra firma can't even see you. Efficiency is measured only by the race-clock and your proximity to other competitors.
The key is to get through all the aforementioned obstructions as quickly as possible, conserving enough energy to ride and run to the best of your abilities. This way you can reach the med tent that much sooner, where you'll be able to tend to your bruised elbow before the guy with the broken nose shows.
We had a great day of training here in Boulder yesterday. (Or near Boulder anyway; 'twas our last high-mileage day.) It's now officially "taper time" for those who are competing in the Hawaii Ironman. And so I took a few minutes to brief those I guide...
