The Chicot Hero

As many of you may know, for the past six years a big chunk of my life has revolved around the Chicot Challenge, a charity swim I stumbled into in June of 2012. Strangely enough, in several ways this swim owes its existence to my arch rival and loathed enemy Randy Beets. He snookered me into making the initial aqua-athletic journey from the Lake Chicot State Park to downtown Lake Village and back. In retrospect, I'm surprised he didn't murder me while I had my head pointed towards the bottom of the lake for hours on end.

For the next five years, I upped the distance each time until I peaked last June at 23.5 miles. Alas, a few weeks later, I injured myself so devastatingly that there is now no way I can do the swim the 2018 Challenge. But guess what? A hero has emerged, a man to stand in the gap to keep the swim and its fundraising efforts going. Please, take time to cheer, pray, and thank God Almighty.

Enter Wilson Carroll, a Madison-based attorney and a Greenwood native, who is of that rarest of breeds: an open water swimmers in the State of Mississippi. Recently he made me cry when he told me at a party he hosted that "This is too important to let die." He offered to swim at least eight miles and then on the spot he drafted his son, Spence, to swim some also. Boom, between the two of them they can do a Park to town and back or a one way (Ditch Bayou to the Park-- or vice versa). I love Wilson Carroll, and I love the fact that he and his son will make the swim. Although I have grieved over my inability to do the event this year, I am, on the other hand, excited about the change.

Wilson after finishing Big Shoulders in Chicago.

One excitement revolves around the idea that a shorter-- but still long swim-- will enable the crew to get a bit more sleep the night before. Not only that, but it will also make it possible for everyone to get home earlier Saturday night. In addition, a relay will make for much simpler job for the crew. Feeding can be done on board, simplifying the duties of the kayakers. Real food can be consumed by the athletes and as much as they want. When you are continually in the water, your choices for food shrink considerably (although my in-the-water food--ice cream-- is what I would choose if I got to feed on a boat). Getting to come onto the boat while your partner swims not only enables an easier and more flexible feed, but it offers rest as well. With the rest, the swimmers get to enjoy some of the scenery Lake Chicot has to offer. That's one of the few negatives about our strange sport: you are face down in the water, and consequently, fail to find much of the beauty you are swimming in, or only get to experience too brief snapshots of a gorgeous landscape, an amazing sky, tree to please, an occasional house worth a long look.

Furthermore, this may be an excellent change because Wilson, probably, will draw more attention to the swim and its cause than I ever could. He knows a lot of people and a lot his circle only partially overlaps mine. It has taken me six years to get the event to where it is now. Promotion has never been one of my gifts, but I have done the best I could. Almost anyone else, I am sure, would have taken the fundraiser to much greater heights.

Another reason the change excites me is it gives me a chance to work the other side of a swim. I have never been a crew member and this will be my chance to give back to the sport, to help another swimmer the way I have been helped. Also, I have long wondered what it would be like to throw rocks at a swimmer in the water. How will Wilson react? Will he think a fish is flipping around him? Will he become aggravated, raise his head up and look? Furthermore, I want to pull the boat close and blow an air horn, or better yet have the kayaker blast him at the same time. What will that look like? My camera will be on when that happens. Between now and then I am sure to think of some more things I/we can do. I'll make a list and bring it on board and try to fulfill them all.

Although I was very sad for a long time and had to weep and grieve my way to acceptance, I am now looking forward to seeing the event continue, broaden, have yet another iteration of itself. For years, I have yearned to standardize the event: route, time, distance, etc, but it keeps changing every year. Maybe that is inevitable. Maybe that is a good thing. Maybe that is how God wants it. Change can be a difficult thing. It took time, it took prayer it took sorrow, but by the grace of God and a hero named Wilson Carroll, I have embraced this one.

Young Spence tearing up the pool.