Training and Part IV of The Chicot Challenge

I had to work Friday morning, but as soon as I shook free, I headed to Twin Riviers. I was planning about 4,000 meters, but my left shoulder was feeling funny so I cut it short. I've injured that shoulder twice lifting weights and once in a ladder accident. I would up doing

1,300
6 X 100 back kick/swim with fins
200 easy
Total: 2,100


I was a bit insecure about Saturday, but I got up early (for a Saturday morning) and was in the pond at 7:21 a.m. I wound up swimming 7.2 miles and ran 2.18.



The Chicot Challenge Part IV

At Lake Village, I sat on the sidewalk and consumed a Cliff bar, some potato chips, and two Reese’s. We stayed about ten minutes and then started back. I was eager to get going because every stroke now would be taking us closer instead of farther from the finish. Also, we now had the wind to our backs which, as with a bicycle, means more speed.

For the return trip, Robin had the Garmin on her boat so she could tell me exactly how far I had swum. On the swim in, I had the Garmin under my swim cap. That assured my distance was exact, but I didn’t know how far I had swum while the swim was in progress.

With the wind at my back and some food in my belly, I made a full mile before each of my first two feedings. These two miles were the fastest of the entire swim.

Like coming under the causeway and being able to see Lake Village during the first half of the swim, headed the other way from Lake Village we could see the causeway from the beginning. Once again, this was at first encouraging but then discouraging as the roadway and bridge seemed to be permanently painted on the horizon far up ahead. Eventually, however, we did get there.

As we drew near the causeway, we noticed someone standing on the bridge. The closer we got, the more it seemed he was interested in what we were doing. When we got really close, I noticed Robin and Randy were talking with him. Turns out it was Matt Goddard, a swimmer and triathlete who trains with the Greenville Masters. We passed under the bridge and I looked back and saw he had switched sides and was watching us swim away. I waved at him, appreciating and taking encouragement at his presence.

Then the tough part of the swim was underway. We were over ten-miles now and physically I was beginning to feel it. A muscle I didn’t know I had, one under my right scapula, started to scream at me. The hands had been hurting since mile 4.5, and the mental monotony was taking its toll.

Robin kept me updated on the distance as well as posting updates on Facebook for those who were interested. Later, it was touching to read all the comments and encouragements posted in response to Robin’s updates. During one feeding, she told me Bob Darden had called my phone. He is the reporter who did the write up for the Greenwood Commonwealth. His article proved to play a major role in the fundraising department. He asked how the swim was going and when I would finish. He wanted me to call him after I got in.

Eleven miles passed, and then twelve, and I was in new territory surpassing my lifetime best. At 12.4, I began just to want the swim to be over. First there was that inlet of water on our right that never seemed to pass. Then it was a water tower on our left that seemed to move with us. I tried not to look at it, but it’s kind of large and impossible not to see. Mind games is a whole lot of what endurance athletics is all about, and I was digging deep for every trick I had ever learned. I counted strokes, tried to play music in my mind, even tried all sorts of daydreams. Nothing worked.   Although I knew that despite cutting through the center of the lake for a more direct course, the swim was going to be on the long side of thirteen miles. I began to think Randy Beats was playing a huge ruse on me.

Randy sent me a text one day telling me about a kayak trip he made on Lake Chicot. He started at the state park, went to downtown Lake Village and came back. When he told me it was a thirteen-mile round trip, something inside me clicked. I immediately texted him back to the effect that it sounded like he had the discovered the route to a really interesting marathon swim. That’s when he offered to crew me if I wanted to do the swim. And that’s why I say the whole thing is Randy’s fault. Or maybe I should say his credit. 

When Robin announced thirteen miles, she followed it with a question: “You need anything?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “The finish. Where is that boat ramp?” I asked in desperation.

“Right up there,” Randy pointed. I saw it. I thought maybe it was a half mile away. What was that compared to the thirteen I had already swum? But at that moment, the short distance seemed like a world away.

The water was rough now and the chop was in our face. It had been at our backs only a mile or so ago, but now it slapped me on the top of the head and caused me to have to be very particular about breathing to keep from inhaling liquid instead of air.

Ever so slowly we drew closer to the ramp. But the closer we came, the slower we seemed to go. It was as if time was standing still.

And then we were there.

The concrete under the water was slick with algae. I stood up, removed my goggles, and carefully made my way out of the water, almost falling several times.

When Robin told me the Garmin read 13.94, I briefly considered getting back in to make it fourteen. She even offered to go back out with me. But it didn’t take long to put that thought to bed. Like a well-cooked hamburger patty, I was done.

Robin and Randy refused to let me carry anything, so I went to the truck, dried off, and put on some clothes. We went to the porch of the store where I returned Bob Darden’s call. He asked some questions about the swim which he used to write a follow up article for Sunday’s Commonwealth.

Robin then hauled out a birthday cake. She and Randy gave me a cup purchased from the landing store that they wrote my distance and time on with a black sharpie. To me it looked then and it looks now like a gold medal from the Olympics. We ate cake and I gazed at my cup.

Physically, I felt pretty good. I was a little tired but my shoulders felt solid. My hands, however, which hurt me from mile 4.5, were already sore, and my wrists had tender tendons on top.

After our little celebration, Robin had to go home, but Randy took me to Sherman’s in Greenville and fed me supper. I ate a large catfish fillet and drank a gallon or two of water. Then I drove home with that tired but satisfied feeling I love that comes after a long successful endurance effort. I thought about the swim and my bed. I wanted to go to bed. But my mind wouldn’t stay on the swim or bed; it kept going back to logs. Why did God create logs to look so much like part of his animal creation?

When I closed my eyes to sleep that night, I saw water, water, more water. I saw water on my right, water on my left. I saw water below me and when I looked ahead, like a partly submerged periscope, I saw water half way up my goggles.

I felt water. I felt water flowing down my sides, engulfing my body, washing over my head. I felt water like a basketball in my hands as I caught and pulled it moving myself through the unending coolness that was water. I felt it washing in and out of my mouth, penetrating my ears, swirling around my feet.

Then I saw a log.