Lessons from Chicot IX

 I always like to reflect after I do a long endurance event. Chicot IX is now history and like other big events, it taught me a few things. You can call the swim a failure, a success, or a partial success. I did not meet my goal so in that respect it was a failure. That, ironically, is one of the things I learned.

I really already knew it, but it was almost a relief to have it brought to the front of my consciousness again. I am talking about failure. There is no success, no victory, no significant accomplishment without the risk of failure. In 2013, I set out to run to Noxapater from our home in Greenwood. I failed miserably on the first day and spent the next six weeks on crutches. I learned a lot from that ordeal. One of those lessons that came back now is that one must be willing to fail. I did not and do not want to fail, but I am willing to risk it in order to achieve the victories that I seek. There is no shame in failing if one makes an honest effort to succeed.

Second, I learned that some of the benchmarks that I have developed in training for marathon swims over the years are real, valid; they measure what I thought they measured. One such bench mark is the 20,000 meter week. Years ago I came to the idea that I needed to swim that much per week over the last six weeks before a big swim. For Chicot IX, I made 20,000 meters in only three of my six final weeks of training. That had me worried. Would I have the requisite endurance? I told myself I would be OK even with my yo yo training. But that proved to be only wishful thinking.

Another benchmark I missed this time around was my four-hour swim. I like to work up to a swim of four hours, nonstop, without feeds. Experience has taught me that when I do that, I can swim all day. Literally. The longest I went this year was two hours and twenty minutes and that was several weeks in my rear view mirror.

Chicot Challenge IX, showed me that I was not wrong in my earlier assessments on weekly yardage and the long swim. Those benchmarks were set from trial and error and intuitive feedback from my body in response to training. Now I know I had it right because I did not have the endurance I needed. My shoulders, triceps, and lats were all shot by the time we got to Lake Village after a mere 6.5 miles into what I hoped would be a 13-mile swim. To swim back to the state park would have been a miserable endeavor, and it would have destroyed me.

The best lesson I learned, however, was that I have some really good friends. At the top of the list of friends is my wife Penny Hodge. She has always supported me in every thing I have done, and when she tells me she is proud of me, as she always does after a swim, I almost melt.  

Sheila Mitchell, like my wife, has a heart of gold. Like Penny, she loves to give and to serve. She readily agreed to paddle for the swim. She has done this before. The biggest thing she did, however, was before the swim to insist that I was already a rock star and had nothing to prove. When it came time to tap out, her attitude helped make the decision a guiltless one.

Gerry Johnson has always been one Team Centerville could count on when we needed someone for the crew or the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi's Oxford walk. The first time he was ever in a kayak, he was paddling for me during Chicot VI. He did a bang up job, and I appreciated it then as I do now.

Gerald Johnson, Gerry's older brother, one of my deacons at Centerville Baptist Church, and a solid all around man, has proved over and over that he is a real friend. He brought his boat which replaced the pontoon from the state park that we lost due to COVID. Not only that, but as always, he paid his own way, and was a true professional in both the boat and in the kayak. He is the absolute best kayaker, always having the kayak right beside me while I swim. The support of these friends overwhelms me. Thank you.

Finally, I learned that sometimes you just can't win. This year, 2020, has served up to all of us a can of butt whip in one or more ways. It caused the rescheduling of the swim, costs us the pontoon boat, and led to the cancellation of many events I train for and compete in which help build my fitness for Chicot. It also resulted in my workload being doubled. That final thing, the workload, had a huge negative impact on my training. At one point, I thought about cancelling the swim. But I kept getting off the deck after getting knocked down again and again and again. They say keep getting up. I did. But even though I got up after the last knockdown, I could not beat the count. Sometimes, you just can't win. It is no shame to lose in such a situation. The fight was honorable. The lessons learned will be used in future battle. Thank you, Jesus, for the spirit to battle on. 

Now I am dreaming not of a rematch with Chicot-- I am sure I will do that at some point-- but of another challenge, another adventure, another way to draw attention to diabetes and funds for the DFM. In due time, I will tell you about it. Until then, keep praying for me and Team Centerville. Thank you, and God bless you.