Chicot Challenge VIII: The Comeback

The question I always get over and over before Chicot is, "Are you ready?"

It's a natural inquiry and probably one I myself have asked others. But I never want to answer it. In fact, the question makes me uncomfortable. Usually, I just mumble, "I don't know."

Endurance athletes are acutely aware of how tenuous a good performance is. The event itself, be it a marathon run, bicycle ride, or swim, beats us up even in success. And then there are those days. Over and over I went to the pool this year while training for the big swim, and not long into the practice I knew it wasn't my day to swim. Sometimes it just isn't. The body is tired, the muscles are unrecovered, the mind checks out. You can have the most ambitious training planned out and still lay an egg at the pool. It happens. This year, it happened to me. A lot.

I bowed while Gerald prayed God's
protection over us at the start.

Saturday morning, however, not very many strokes into Chicot Challenge VIII: The Comeback, I knew it WAS my day to swim. I had intended to start very slow and be ultra conservative all day long. My shoulders were just getting whole after both arms fell off, the left one during Chicot VI and the right one a couple of weeks later while moving some concrete blocks. But when I started swimming June 1 at the Lake Chicot State Park, immediately I noticed that my stroke had a snap, and my tempo felt a little quicker than usual. I wasn't trying to swim fast; my body found its own pace; it was ready to go.

Gerald and Gerry Johnson paddled, one on each side of me, while my wife, and Gerald's wife and daughter were aboard the pontoon boat piloted by Charlie Turner that trailed closely behind us. I felt as secure in the water as I did strong.

A shot from the boat showing Gerry and
Gerald sandwiching me between them.

I wore a brand new Sporti jammer and a new colorful silicone swim cap with my Garmin GPS watch underneath the cap and set to buzz every mile. Gerald fed me my usual diet of ice-cream every 45:00 minutes. Experience has taught me that 45 minutes is the right frequency for my caloric needs, and it also helps me keep up the the time. Only strokes after the second feeding, the watched buzzed for the third time. That means I was averaging 30:00 minute miles for the first three. That's when I started thinking about swimming for a time.

Last year, I worked the boat while Wilson and Spence Carroll, along with MJ Staples relayed the swim in my place because my right arm was still growing back on. They swam from the State Park to Ditch Bayou in 8:13. That's eight hours and thirteen minutes. I was beginning the think I could beat that. In fact I had beaten that when I swam a two way in 2017. I did that in 16:00:43, which means I swam it back to back in 8:00 hours each time. But I had suffered much since then and was still unsure of myself. The first commandment of endurance athletics is: "Thou shalt not destroy thyself." Going out hard when I had not done a marathon swim in two years seemed like a sin, like a good way to destroy myself.

I know it doesn't matter, beating their time. In fact, it almost seemed wrong because they selflessly saved the swim by stepping up and volunteering to do the swimming when I couldn't. But it gave me a goal, the idea of beating the relay time, something the think about and motivate me as the miles and hours dragged by. 

The watch buzzed the fourth time not too long after we passed under the Causeway bridge. While going under I chatted with a couple of fishermen. Penny yelled from the boat, "Zane, you need to get out of there." She was right. The Causeway is a heavy traffic area and I needed to clear it and get gone so I put my head down and swam away. That was my only transgression of the day. I learned a long time ago that to finish one of these things, you need to keep your head down and swim. Eventually, the temptation to pull up and look around arises. Along with that is the urge to do some heads-up breaststroking. Both of those are time killers and only lead to more laziness. Keep the head down and swim.

The watch buzzed the fifth time, then the sixth. Either just before or just after the sixth buzz, I felt a shot of pain in my right shoulder. I immediately asked Gerald for some Tylenol. I learned from MJ about liquid Tylenol, and that is the way to go. It is easy to take. In the past, I did the pills which is a recipe for dropping them into the lake and imbibing lake water. I had a small eight ounce squeeze bottle which was perfect for the job. Gerald asked me if I wanted anything else. "Yeah," I said, "prayer." I put my head down and swam away.

I once read that "things" (pains and crises) come and go in a marathon swim. My experience has found that to be true. The shoulder went. It pained me no more for the day, although it did feel a little tight late in the swim. Around the eighth buzz, the left elbow began to hurt. This is a pain that crops up from time to time. It stems, I think, from a bicycle crash I had a few years ago. I stays a little while, but it always goes. Would it go this time? It did. While it was there, however, it messed with my mind and slowed my pace. But after it left, I slowly tried to ease back into my tempo.

Buzz number nine brought another discomfort. Some tissue under my right scapula began to grumble a bit. That is one of the rotator cuff muscles. It is an antagonistic muscle to the ones that rotate the arm inward during the swim stroke. I work those, the antagonist, a lot at Plate City doing external rotations. Although it went, it repeated the cycle, coming and going, several times during the day.

Buzz ten brought two things, one good and one bad. The bad was pain in my right hand. This was a problem when I first started doing Chicot. I finally figured that it stems from the muscles on the bottom of the forearm dominating the muscles on the top of the forearm resulting in pain in the hands and tendons on the top side. I do work those from time to time, but was inconsistent this year. Thankfully, it never got bad and was only a reminder of how many things can go wrong when you push your body this far. The other thing, the good one, was I could see Ditch Bayou. I asked at one of my feedings, "Isn't that it up there?"

Penny answered, "No. You always miss it. It's around the corner."

She likes to say I "always" do things that I do once. I don't always miss it. I did miss it in 2017. But it was black dark then, and I thought the lights at Lighthouse Inn were the ones at Ditch Bayou. This time I knew I was right. I also knew that although I could see the end, it is still almost three miles down the lake. That's a lot of swimming.

That little gap up ahead with the shinny roof
is Ditch Bayou. Again, notice how I
am protected by the crew.

I put my head down and swam. I also knew from experience not to look up too often. That can be very discouraging. You swim and swim and swim and look up and it seems like you have not drawn any closer. Just swim. Keep the head down and swim.

I now knew that I was going to beat the relay time. I also knew that if Bethany Theilman of the DFM came when I told her I would finish, that we would be through and gone by the time she arrived. Still, I kept my head down and swam. The watch buzzed the eleventh time. I swam. The watched buzzed the twelfth time. I looked up. I was less than a mile from the landing, the finish.

I then began to do surges, but I couldn't hold them. I would go about a minute hard. When Gerald offered my another feed, I knew we were 6:45 in. I looked up and judged us to be about a half mile from shore. I can beat seven hours, I thought, if I push it. I shook my head no to the feed and then put my head down and swam. I pushed it hard, and finally I was in the bayou. I shot straight for the rocks and climbed out. Pulling the watch out from under my cap, it read 12.75 miles in 6:57:36 at a 32:45 per mile pace. On the grass, I looked up and saw Bethany coming my way from the back of the Country Store. Wow. She was early enough to catch us.
 

On shore at Ditch Bayou.

Once on shore, I became very emotional but managed to not burst into tears. I am always like that at the end of a long swim. I don't know why, but if I had the opportunity, I would get alone somewhere and just sit down and cry. I always feel that way. 

I felt good about my performance, and the crew was magnificent. Charlie Turner made his first appearance at the swim, and he was a skillful pontoon pilot. And the only kayaker better than Gerry Johnson is Gerald Johnson and that is only by a little bit.

As soon as we finished the wind began to pick up a little. The water had been flat all day. What a blessing, an answer to prayer. Seeing Bethany and the girls she rounded up to cheer me in was a blessing. To share an event like this, one that touches me deeply within my soul, with friends has a staggering impact on me. Everyone agreed that God had given us a good day.
 

I always love my watch shot.

Charlie Turner, the newest member
of Team Centerville.

We left Bethany and Ditch Bayou and motored back to the State Park, tired but happy, satisfied, edified even. The one-way swim was nice. It's long, but not so long that it totally destroys me. It is also short enough that the crew enjoys the day. They still work hard and were tired at the end, but after Chicot VI, I perceived that I had asked a bit too much of everyone. Has Chicot finally standardized after all these different editions? Possibly. I have two sides to my personality. One wants the same distance, the same course every year. The other wants a new challenge, and new route, and new swim. Which side will win out? Stay tuned and see.

Having my wife on board gives me a huge boost.