Lesson's from Chicot VI

It's been a bit over two weeks since my epic swim, the longest of my life and the one that beat me up the most. The beating was both physical and mental as well as emotional. Like always, I do a lot of reflecting afterwards while attempting to draw meaning from my experience. I have arrived at several lessons I'd like to share with you.

1. Penny and I have some really good friends. Inevitably, after ten plus hours of swimming, I begin to feel guilty for what I am putting the crew through. They get up early, travel and lodge at their own expense, and then spend a long, long day taking care of me, helping me fulfill a personal goal while trying to raise funds for a worthy charity. Last year, I put them through it with a thirteen hour and fifty two minute swim. This year I really put them through it with a sixteen hour swim. I can't imagine being in a boat that long. They probably can't imagine swimming for that long, but I had rather have my job than theirs. Never once have I heard a member of Team Centerville utter even a hint of a complaint. Not only were they good friends going into the swim, but sharing an experience like this strengthens some already strong bonds. At least it has for me. Thank you, Team Centerville and may God bless you for you selfless giving of your time, energies, and finances. 

2. Nothing is in the bag. Every year I go through the nerves as the swim draws near. Many try to calm me and tell me how I have it. But anything that long carries some real risks with it. That truth was driven home this time around. Eighteen miles in, my left shoulder started protesting. It hurt. Bad. Not only that, but it hurt bad. The pain was severe enough that I thought I was going to have to tap out. I prayed, changed my stroke, and struggled on for another five and a half miles. But the ordeal drove home how fragile the body is and how quickly the best laid plans can come crashing down. I even asked the crew to pray for me. Thanks be to God, I made it. But the ending easily could have been much different.

3. The open water world is special. On Facebook, I have friends from across the U.S. and around the world (twenty four countries the last time I counted). Our connection? Swimming, especially open water swimming. Enter MJ Staples. We were Facebook friends having never met in person until Chicot VI. She was either wise enough or foolish enough to put it on one of the swimming sites we both are members of that she wanted "to work the other side of a swim." She was even willing to pay her own way. Cha ching! I was considering seeking Marathon Swimmers Federation documentation for this swim, so I needed an Independent Observer. I contacted MJ. She agreed. She did a great job. She is pleasant, knowledgeable, organized, and professional. Besides observing and taking meticulous notes, she support swam and even took a turn in the kayak. When I ran out of ibuprofen, MJ came to the rescue. When Lake Chicot swallowed my Garmin, not to fear because MJ had a stop watch set aside for the sole purpose of timing the swim. When it got black dark on us, MJ came to the rescue with some glow sticks. My wife said she was super organized, super prepared, and super nice. If you need someone to observe your swim or possible do something else, she just might be your girl. Thank you, MJ.

4. Don't let old lessons die. During Chicot I, I developed tough pain on the top of my hands and wrists. After that swim, I had visible knots in the tendons on there. I did a lot of thinking and concluded that I had a flexibility/strength imbalance. I corrected that problem with a year of stretching and targeted strength training. Over time, I let those assistant exercises fall by the wayside. At Chicot VI, that old nemesis came back with a vengeance. For hours, I swam in pain. Fortunately, unlike the shoulder, I knew what the pain was and that I would recover from it without permanent damage. After the swim, the top my right hand looked like it had been stepped on by a horse. My left wrist had a knot on the top and was discolored as well. The sad thing is, I had seen this before and learned how to prevent it. I simply became complacent and let the lesson slide away. Wow. Note to self: don't do that again.

5. I can do this swim without running. I haven't run since November. My shuffling career may be over. I will find out later. When that problem arose, I determined to just focus on swimming. I did wonder a little what affect it would have on my swimming. I know it made it virtually impossible for me to lose weight, or at least it did with the current state of my will power. But the swim showed me pretty much what I thought before hand. My legs got much more tired than they usually do, but if that made a difference in my performance, I couldn't tell it. Yes, this swim was slower than the others. But that was, I think, a result of the conditions. At the pace I swim Chicot, 65 -75% of Vo2max, the extra cardiovascular efficiency, and the enhanced fitness of the legs is not a big factor if it is one at all. But the next thing up for me is the Heart O' Dixie Triathlon, a mere one half mile swim. But that has me a little concerned. I need to turn in a good time and that means swimming the half mile at 95+ percent of Vo2max. At that pace, the lack of running could make a real difference. 

6. Once more, Chicot is a swim of faith. We had problems with securing a pontoon boat from the start. When I called South Shore Cottages in January, they told me they no longer rented pontoons. I was stunned, but not terrified. My mind went back to Chicot V and how God had showed me this was His swim. God had to come through. Coming through was me getting a boat from the State Park. Or so I thought. When they called in March and said their boat had fallen off the trailer and was badly damaged, we were back to square one again. I didn't panic but prayed and tried to have faith. If this swim really is God's, He will make a way. He did. After about six hours, we had a boat. During the swim when the shoulder pain hit like a miniature Samurai inside my shoulder trying to slice his way out, I prayed and the pain didn't disappear but became tolerable. Almost a week after the swim when I discovered my Spot Tracker, swim cap, cookies, and goggles were missing, I prayed and God restored everything except the cookies. Sometimes you just have to be thankful and suffer loss in gratitude that it is not worse than it is. Thank you, Jesus.

7. We really have reached surpassed the end of what we can do in a day. This swim was finished at 9:58 pm. That put me, the crew, and all two of the people waiting on us at the finish in a strain at best and some risk at worst. Next year, we will most likely scale back a little. And yes, the desire to push farther has come back a some. But I am thinking that it will probably be on another swim somewhere else. My body is still healing, and my mind is still reeling from this sixteen hour ordeal. But Lord willing, we will be back next year for another edition of Chicot.

8. I have a really good cousin, Shay Darby. But since that is the subject of another blog post, I will say no more about that now.

Loss at Chicot VI

I finally put my grief to rest
God gave me much and He knows best
For this big swim I paid a cost
The biggest price was cookies lost

At night I turned and moaned and tossed
For cookies gone for cookies lost
My broken heart my God did heal
And has restored my earthly zeal
To train, to strain, to swim, compete
And after victory my cookies eat.

Cookie-eatin' World

This world is a dark place. Out there in the absence of civility and goodness, probably lurking in some shadows somewhere is a low down, no good, sorry, no count, thieving cookie eater.

After Chicot Challenge VI, I was so washed out that it was Friday morning before I began unpacking the box of stuff I dropped on the living room floor late Saturday night after the swim. Immediately I knew something was wrong. First, there were only two pair of used goggles in the box. There should have been three and the missing one was a new pair I had worn the last 11 plus miles. Yes, I can tell by looking at them. Second, my swim cap was missing. And third, my Spot Tracker was not in the box. 

Yikes!!!

I tried hard to remember as I searched the house diligently to find the missing items. Did I take those items out and forget? I was also missing some cookies Sheila Mitchell had given me. But I had known Saturday night I had left them on the boat ramp when Sheila asked me on the ride home where the cookies were. I apologized profusely for squandering the gift. I wanted those cookies, and I wanted her to know I wanted those cookies and would have eaten them all like a hungry dog gobbling down a handful of hamburger meat.

But Friday morning my concern became a deep seated sickness in the pit of my stomach when I realized I left my goggles, cap, and Spot Tracker with the cookies. What a stash just sitting there in the open.

So I called South Shore Cottages. Nothing resembling what I described was in their Lost and Found. Then I texted Justin and asked him if he was in the area to at least go by and take a look, please. I knew it was a one-in-a-million chance, but we serve a one-in-a-million God. And the thought of those cookies was watering my mouth. They were mine They were a gift. Two hours later my phone went, "Bing." Justin texted me a picture of my goggles, my cap, and my Spot Tracker. Whoopie! Praise God! Thank you Jesus! Hallelujah! I was strutting around the house fist pumping the air, high as a kite.

The picture Justin texted me.

Then I looked at the photo again. I expanded it and searched. I was looking for cookies. "Where are the cookies?" I asked Justin.

"No cookies," was his reply.

My heart sank. Sorry and joy mingled in a strange way within my beating breast. I was grateful for the return of all that equipment. God had come through. But my cookies! My cookies!

I queried Justin like a lawyer in court. He story was that he went by and searched the landing. No cookies. Then he happened to see someone who worked there and he asked her about the cookies. She told him I had already called. Then, a guest hanging out on his porch and overhearing their conversation said, "I have that. My boy picked it up this morning." And he went inside and brought out my cap, goggles, and Spot Tracker. 

But he didn't bring out cookies.

It's a dark world when someone steals your cookies. But what else do you expect. I am grateful to you, Lord, for getting me the other stuff back. That is a pretty expensive stash of merchandise that I could ill afford to lose. And to that boy who ate my cookies. I hope you enjoyed them because cookies are too precious to waste. Better you than some mangy raccoon. And thanks for not keeping my other stuff.

I Found It (Chicot Challenge VI)

For several years now I have been looking to see how far I could push myself. In 2010, I rode my bicycle 174 miles in one day. I didn't find it. A couple of years ago, I did a stage run that lasted for five days. I didn't find it. At my annual Chicot Challenge, I've been upping the ante each year swimming farther and farther. Chicot I was 13.94 miles, Chicot II was 16.0, III 17.7, IV 19, and V was a colossal 22.38. I didn't find it find it in any of those. This year I swam 23.8 miles (officially 23.5), and finally, I found it. Really, I did.

I know what you're thinking. You surmise that when the pain and strain of this latest physical ordeal wears off, my brain will "re-crazy" as Katie Horton Jones aptly puts it, and I will start dreaming of a longer swim. Not this time.

Part of the crew and MJ taking notes 
just before the start.

The plan was to be swimming at 5:45. We didn't make it but we did get started at 5:58, the earliest ever. Team Centerville (Gerald and Debbbie Johnson, Kelsey McCain, and Sheila Mitchell) was there along with Justin Nunnery and for the very first time Gerald's brother Gerry who would join us a few hours into our quest. We prayed. MJ Staples, the swim's Independent Observer, took notes and started the timer. The water was 77 degrees and fog covered the face of Lake Chicot as I swam out of Ditch Bayou and headed north. 

Due to the fog and the low light, I couldn't see the opposite side of the lake. The goal was to aim at the farthest point we could see north on the other side. All I could see, however, was fog. Gerald asked me if we wanted to head for that point over there. I told him I couldn't see land but that sounded about right. He led; I followed.

Slowly, the light grew brighter, the fog burned off, and the clouds began to part. The day, which had started with so much suspicion, became beautify and sunny with light winds. Perfect. We made our way up the lake one stroke at a time. For my sanity, I break the swim up into stages, sections. The first section is to make it to the open area, a place where there are not trees along Highway 82. The next stage is downtown Lake Village, then to the Causeway, followed by the State Park and then everything in reverse. 

Still foggy about three miles in.

Gerald stayed on task for about the first six miles, which took us a little past Lake Village. MJ Staples, the Independent Observer, replaced him for a short stint as paddler because the boat had to go to town and pick up Gerry who arrived somewhere around 9:30 a.m. and she needed to be with me to observe the swim. She was either in the kayak, on the pontoon, or even in the water with me the whole day. God bless her.

It gives me joy to look at pics after the swim
and see a happy crew. Thanks, Sheila.

After the boat got back, Sheila Mitchell replaced MJ for her first tour of duty as a full-fledged crew member. I remember telling her to guide me straight to the bridge. Her response was, "What bridge?" I'm not sure I answered. She'll figure it out, I thought. And she did. After thirty minutes or so she said, "I see the bridge." 

"Just give me the ice cream and no one gets hurt."

I used to be terribly afraid of swimming under bridges. Maybe I still am, but I have swum this one so many times that it doesn't bother me anymore. I am, however, a little leery of this area because it seems to me like a dangerous place. The Causeway Bridge has a little strip of lake running under it that is at most fifty feet wide. A bunch of boats go through there, and I asked Sheila to stay near and ask the pontoon to pull in close behind us. Justin dutifully closed the gap and gave me a real sense of safety as we finished the third leg of the journey and began the fourth. 

North of the Causeway, we faced a head chop from the start and it kept us company all the way to the State Park, about four miles. Gerry took over kayak duties from Sheila and did a pretty good job especially when you consider that he had never even been on Lake Chicot or in a kayak before. When he got on I told him to head for that point of land. "You make the line, and I follow you." 

As we drew very near the boat ramp at the State Park, the pontoon went ahead and docked just past it. MJ, from the boat ramp, told me to "swim past the boat by one foot." I did and pulled my head out of the water. She responded, "We can start back now." 

Finally. 

Out and back courses are brutal. You swim and swim and swim and then you get to do it all over again. Although I was still feeling pretty good, it seemed like it took forever to get there. I think it was somewhere around 1:00 or 1:30. MJ no doubt will have this in her notes.

Amazingly, the wind held and we got a little push back to the Causeway. It did seem to go faster and when we crossed under the bridge to the other side, I knew we were in for the long journey to Lake Village because the tail wind we had disappeared and became a cross wind that produced an annoying chop. We got to keep that chop all the way to town and it only got worse as we went. Downtown Lake Village has a couple of piers that frame a designated swimming area and past that is a boat ramp. When we got to the swimming area, some kid swam with me for 50 meters or so.

Company at Lake Village

 That was a first. 

Not long afterwards, Justin was in the kayak and told me, "We need to cross the lake to get out of this wind. We headed for the far shore and almost immediately I was stricken with some pretty tough shoulder pain in the left one. I rolled over onto my back and did a few strokes that way. It didn't like that either. Returning to my stomach I was thinking, "I may have to tap." It was serious, and I have never come as close to not finishing a swim as I did that day. I changed my stroke to keep my recovery lower and that helped some but I could feel the shoulder with every pull of the water reminding me that I was swimming on grace. Slowly we inched across the half mile of waves to get over where we should have been all along, and although the stroke change helped, my mind was already infected with fear and doubt.

Gerald always keeps the kayak exactly where I want it.

At one of my feeds while we crossed over, I told the crew I needed prayer. They must have touched God for me because I was able to keep going. Then when we made it to the other side of the lake, the wind shifted.  Yeah, it did. A thunderstorm had built up ahead of us and as it drew near the wind grew with the storm's approach. There was no place to hide, no where it get out of the waves. Looking back, I should have asked them to pray again because according to what Justin told me after the swim, the winds grew to 19 miles per hour. I had to struggle not to go backwards. Once more I thought this might be it, the swim might be called due to lightning. I later learned there was one flash but the crew decided to continue. Somehow we endured the storm, and on the other side there was still a head chop but one much more manageable.

After the storm in the fading daylight about 
three miles from the finish.

By then we had made it back to the place where there are no trees on Highway 82. I knew that meant we were approximately three to four miles from finishing. After my fright with the shoulder and the storm, I began again to believe that I might finish after all. But the trek past the open shore was agonizingly long and slow. It seemed we would never make the trees and the daylight began to fade. I had feared swimming after dark, but when night came I think I was too tired to be scared. Or maybe it helped that I was already in the water when it grew dark. But at this point, I just wanted the swim to be over. Oddly, I found swimming in the dark kind of neat. When I breathed to my right, I could catch a glimpse of the moon above. This was a new experience for me, but one I didn't take the opportunity to relish because I was beginning to feel guilty for what I was putting the crew through. I knew they had to be exhausted and want this thing over with as bad as I did.

Night hit us with almost total blackness, at least from my perspective. Eventually, besides the moon, I could see only the kayak and lights on shore. When we came to Lighthouse Inn, I thought we are there, a mile at the most, and the next big set of lights was the finish. But Gerald told me Ditch Bayou was the lights beyond that. I thought he had to be wrong. I hoped he was wrong. I believed he was wrong. 

But he wasn't wrong. I realized he was right when we came to Lighthouse Inn which I had earlier misidentified. "Lord no," I said out loud when I realized I still had one more mile to swim.

But there was nothing to do but put my head down and keep moving. We crept towards the lights up ahead. Finally, we got close enough for me to ask Gerald where the landing was. "Over there where the little light is down low," I think he said or something like that. Another minute and I was close enough to see the boat beside the landing. I swam till my hands touched the indoor/outdoor carpet the crew had laid out on the ramp to help me get some traction. I crawled out. Literally.

The finish. Sorry about the belly.
Wait till next year.

The only people on hand were the crew and Tank and Linda Tankersley, friends of ours from Hollandale. I was honored, flattered, and touched that they made the trip and waited that long. I jokingly told the crew, "Next year thirty miles." The laughter was subdued. Then I said seriously, "This is too much. Too much."
And that's the way I feel about it. Sixteen straight hours of swimming had me satisfied. I found what I've been looking for all these years. Thank you crew. Thank you MJ. Thank you God.

More pictures:

Gerald relaxing while MJ takes notes.

Kelsey went for and achieved a new record for most hours sunbathing.

Gerald as pilot late in the swim.

MJ swimming with me somewhere along the way. She did that several times.

Chicot on for June 3

Thursday was a full day. I taught Comp II in the morning, then spoke at the Greenwood Lion's Club at noon. The presentation went well, the audience was receptive, and I enjoyed the meal and company. I spoke on the swim, of course, and I attempted to plant some seeds about diabetes and some other people who could address that topic with them. Then when Penny got off work, we headed over to Greenville/Lake Village to check on the pontoon boat.

In, around, and during all this were the near constant prayers for the weather and the fetish checking of the latest weather forecasts. That forecast for swim day was bouncing up and down like a basketball. Seriously, I have never seen such. It would be 40% and then an hour later 80% chance of thunderstorms for Saturday. Then back to 40% then 60% then 40% and back to 80.

I had to make a decision because one crew member is driving in from Atlanta and others were taking Friday off work. Finally, after prayer and consultation with my wife and others I decided it was a go. Pray for us. I hope to be swimming by 6:00 a.m. or earlier. But I have hoped that before. This effort has a lot of moving parts and all of these parts are voluntary. I don't like to boss people around, especially friends who are doing me a great kindness. In fact, I refuse to do anything like that. To all of you who are serving on the crew, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Not only that, but thank you from the top of my heart. Furthermore, thank you from the middle of my heart. I really appreciate it.

Changes in Chicot

As I train up, gear up, planup, and prayup for Chicot Challenge VI, I thought it was time to let you know some of the changes and the reasons for them in this years event.

1. A new course. For the sixth straight year, I have a new course in mind. I really don't like change, and I have been thinking for several years about settling on a course and leaving it. I can't remember why all the course changes in the past other than each year I wanted to swim a little farther. Chicot I was a 13.94 swim. As soon as the pain from that swim began to dim in my memory, I started scheming on a longer swim for the next year. Another thing that has forced changes in the course has been the changing nature of the swim. As the swim got longer and required more support, the rental boat forced us to make South Shore Cottages the base of our operations. That has all changed.

I called South Shore in early January to reserve the pontoon boat only to be told they no longer rent them. !!!! They were nice enough to tell me the State Park has a pontoon for rent. After securing that water craft, obviously our starting point had move with the boat. So this year's swim will start and stop at the State Park. By the grace of God, I will swim from the park to Ditch Bayou and back. That makes a little over 23 miles so I get the extra distance I wanted. I had already planned the basic route thus the new boat just reversed the course.

2. New Distance and measuring method. I have just about reached the limits of what can be swum in one day. This new course and distance may be the final form of the swim for years to come, but that remains to be seen. But one really big change in the distance is the method of measuring it. For the first time, this year's course is pre measured and landmark based. This change is to bring the swim into full compliance with accepted open water swim practices. The Marathon Swimmers Federation (marathonswimmers.org) wants the course to be landmark based so it is repeatable. I do a swim, and have it documented, then someone else can do the same swim. 

In the past, we set out an approximate course based on our knowledge of the lake and how far I wanted to go and then measure the actual distance I swam that day. With this new method of a landmark based course pre measured on Google Maps the shortest distance it could possibly be swum, I will most likely swim a mile or two farther than the named distance. This is a substantive change and has me a little nervous. More about that later.

3. Tracking capability. In the near future, I plan to purchase a Spot Tracker (http://www.findmespot.com/en/) so anyone interested will be able to keep up with the swim in real time. We will have a link on Facebook that will go to a map of the lake. The tracker will update every ten minutes and place a dot on the map. Thus, besides relying solely on Facebook words, one can see exactly where we are and how long it took to get there. This also adds a level of documentation desired my the Marathon Swimmers Federation.

4. Official Observer. Marathon swims that are recognized by governing bodies of the sport require an official observer to watch the swim and take notes during the event. In the past, we just went out and did it. This year, MJ Staples (https://www.facebook.com/mary.staples.79) of Atlanta, Georgia has agreed to serve as the observer for this swim. MJ is a marathon swimmer with a passion for and an understanding of the sport who has a desire to work "the other side of a swim." MJ has also graciously and bravely volunteered to swim with me if the event last past the daylight hours. I have always been a little afraid of the alligators at night. In the event she swims part of the way with me, Gerald Johnson will assume her duties as observer.

5. Marathon Swimmers Federation Documentation. Some of these changes, you may have figured out, are in an effort to have this swim documented by the MSF. Doing this will lend credibility to our efforts and my boast that I swam the longest swim ever on Lake Chicot and possibly in all of Arkansas.

6. Crew. Each year the crew changes. Some of these changes are planned while others are not. At this point, I don't know who the full crew will be. I am expecting Justin Nunnery, Gerald Johnson, Trevor McLain, Sheila Mitchel, MJ Staples, and my wife Penny Hodge. Possibly joining for the second year will be Debbie Johnson, and Kelsey McLain.

7. Faith. The Chicot Challenge has not only been an adventure over the years, but it has been a journey of faith. This time, I have approached things with more patience and trust in God than I have in the past. I hope to continue that, and I pray that God will in some way glorify Himself through this event that has so blessed my wife and me. 

Praise be to the God of heaven and earth.

SB Day Three

I did it again. We did it again. Justin and I met at Extreme Fitness Wednesday morning at 5:30 for another swim. This time I swam

1,200

150 as 3 X 50 experimenting with Justin’s paddles.

200 Redneck IM

Justin and I at the end of our swim.

21 X 50 @ 1:12

400

Total: 3,000 yards.

Before leaving, I asked Justin if there was an old-fashioned cafe around. He told me about Jim’s downtown so I went to Washington Street and found it. Three eggs, grits, toast, sausage, and three cups of coffee later I had another favorite spot.

I had not planned on eating breakfast just like I had not planned it Tuesday. But Tuesday's experience at JL's had me in the mood for a cafe breakfast. Jim's is an old narrow building with the dark, dark paneling that has been out of style for thirty years. On the wall were a couple of fish mounts, large mouth bass, and pictures by the dozen one of which was of a man fishing from the deck of a bass boat. I'm sure Jim's has fed a lot of fishermen with Lake Ferguson scarcely a half mile away.

I left Greenville for Skene and once again had a good nap and a hug from the grandchildren before heading to DSU. Ronnie opened up a little early and he told me, “I was watching you swim yesterday. I noticed your hands and elbows. You have a good catch and stroke, unlike a lot of people who come here.”

Wow! 

Tabby Cat and I before our swim

It means something when a real swimmer tells you that. A couple of months back, one of the DSU dive team members told me about the same thing.

Tabatha, my fellow DAM swimmer, showed up. We mostly did our own thing but we swam one set together. In short, I totaled 5,500 yards giving me a 8,500 for the day which equals 7,769 meters. That brings me to 21,936 for the week. I’m on pace to meet my goal.

Praise be to God.

SB Day Two

I ate my cereal Tuesday morning in the semi-darkness of my daughter's old bedroom trying not to disturb my long sufferingwife. A little after 4:00 am I slipped out the front door into the unseasonably cold spring air, loaded my stuff into the cab of my truck, and headed west towards Greenville.

Before leaving town, I stopped at McDonald's and purchased a large coffee which I drank slowly as I motored towards the port city and an appointment with Justin Nunnery. We met at Extreme Fitness and went through about an acre of weight machines and a series of doors to get to the 25-yard pool in the back. The water was warm, probably 87. I don't mind that. Really, I don't. I swam

1,150
20 X 50 @ 1:30
500
total: 2,650 yards.

I had time to swim a little more, but my shoulders felt a little funny so I tapped out.

I left the gym and drove over the river and into Arkansas. You don't even get off the bridge before you see my beloved. She is always there looking long, lovely, alluring. I remembered our intimate hours, our days we spent embracing each other.

Besides thinking of my beloved, during the drive I noticed how fatigued my muscles were. I swam 5,941 Monday, lifted weights, and ate mostly protein that night. Herein is the problem of trying to lose weight and train hard. Sometimes you bonk. I had two protein shakes with me and had consumed one, but I decided to try out a little cafe on the shores of my beloved. If I were to swim again today-- and I planned to-- I needed some fuel.

LJ's is a typical dumpy place you find scattered across the South. The waitress looked stereotypical and the patrons were good ole' boys in hunting caps, drinking coffee and solving the country's problems. I took a booth against the wall, alone, and listened. 

I asked the waitress if they took a debit card.

"No."

I nervously felt my pockets. "I have ten dollars in cash," I said in a pleading voice.

"You're alright," she answered.

I relaxed and placed my order. Two eggs over medium, grits, sausage, toast, and coffee. It came and I ate.

Leaving LJ's, I drove to the Lake Chicot State Park where I hoped to meet up with the Park Supervisor, Ocee Hunter. He was in and he saw me right away. We had a productive chat, and he seemed genuinely excited to have the swim based at the park. I told him that whomever I talked to on the phone to reserve the boat, said he might donate it since the swim is a fundraiser for a charity. He responded that I needed to submit a letter requesting that and he would pass it up the chain. He did tell me that we could probably get the boat early, keep it late, and come in after dark. That is big news and good news.

When I left the park, I headed first for Mississippi and then for Skene where I have two grandchildren. I had time only for a short nap and a quick hug before I was off to DSU and swim number two. I got there and thought they weren't going to open. Then at exactly 11:30, Ronnie drove up. Inside and in the pool, I swam a straight 6,350 yards in 1:54:24. That gave me 9,000 yards for the day which comes out to 8,226 meters. Now for the two days I have 14,167 meters. That puts me on pace to make my goal of beating last year's Spring Break total of 30,062 meters. Praise be to God's holy name.

SB Day One

That stands for Spring Break in case you're wondering. My plans are to bust out some huge training during my brief work hiatus since I have the time to get it done. I need the training so I have geared my mind to do as much as possible this week and lay the fitness foundation for the longer pond swims that I need to build Chicot fitness. Monday, I went to DSU during the noon swim time and I stroked

1,500
200 for time 2:40 (tied my PR)
600 easy 10:27
150 for time 1:59 (PR)
650 easy 11:10
100 for time 1:13
700 easy 12:03
50 for time :37
750 easy 13:02
1,400 24:59
total: 6,500 yards = 5,941 meters.

Back home and after some nutrition and a nap, I went to Plate City and bench pressed

18 X 70
12 X 100
10 X 120
6 X 140
6 X 140
6 X 140

On the Swim Pull, I did

40 X 21.5
30 X 26
25 X 28.5
20 X 31

I slept well. Praise be to God for His goodness to the sons of men.

Spring Break Plans

I have big plans for Spring Break. What else is new. Mostly they revolve around swimming. In short, I hope to swim as much as possible. Last year, I managed to get 30,062 meters, all in the pool. This year all the swimming will most likely also be in the pool since the temps are headed down to winter-like conditions.

I am facing some challenges this year that I did not face last year. One challenge is we are not having Masters practice Thursday night. I don't know why but Cagri told us no practice this Thursday. Another challenge is Ronnie said he might be gone Tuesday. In order to make up for those losses and try to ensure a full week, I even schemed on a couple of trips to Greenville to swim with Justin Nunnery a time or two. That will involve rising early and driving long. I had originally hoped to get a triple dip on Tuesday and Thursday but it look now like that won't happen. Further complicating matters is the fact that when we do have Masters, since it is Spring Break week, there will be no lifeguards so I will have to leave after practice. This will keep my Masters swim down to around 2,000 meters. Cagri can't stay away from home very long.

My goals are to swim 31,000 and lift weights two times. In addition to that, I need to do some sort of cardio outside of swimming. Either I can start back running or do a trainer ride or two or three on my bicycle. Furthermore, I need to do some work on Plate City. I have some nice recent additions I need to shoot a video on, and I have plans for more improvements. 

Other plans include logistical work for the Chicot Challenge. I need to go talk to the manager of the Lake Chicot State Park. The lady I talked with on the phone while I was securing the pontoon twice told me that he (the park manager) would probably donate the boat since this is a charity swim. That would be huge if that comes to pass. I hope to swim with Justin Tuesday morning, then ride over to Lake Village and talk to the park people. After that, I will motor to Cleveland and hope the pool is open at noon. If it is, I will be on track for a three dip day and some really big yardage.

Another thing, I need to get with Barry Brewer and work out a T-shirt design. Penny had some ideas I will modify a little. Besides all that, I need to order that Spot Tracker. I have no idea why I have put that off so long. I blame it on being busy, but I am always busy. 

The butterflies are starting to form. Praise be to God.

Weak Links in the Chain

The opening paragraph of my little "History of Chicot Challenge" contained the assertion that long swims reveal weaknesses in the body (and sometime faith). I did not, however, in any of the four parts of that essay address those weaknesses. Well, if you were looking for it, waiting for it, this is your lucky day.

If you go far enough in the water or on foot or on a bicycle the weak links in your body are often exposed. For me, the Challenges have been a steady revelation of what I needed to pay especial attention to over the next twelve months until Chicot came around again. When I crawled out of the water at Chicot I, my hands had been in pain for a couple of hours. The next day, I had visible knots on the tendons on the back of my hands and lower wrists to go along with the stiffness and soreness to those areas. Weak link exposed.

I could not find anyone who had ever experienced such a thing and not wanting to spend money in the medical field (because I was convinced they would not understand and merely prescribe me anti-inflammatory meds), I was left to my own to ponder my course of rehab. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I had a strength/flexibility imbalance between the muscles on the top of my forearms and the muscles on the bottom of my forearms. The muscles on the bottom being the ones most actively engaged while swimming (i.e. pulling the water) and the muscles on top being the antagonistic (i.e. opposing) muscles. 

This brings me to a hard earned lesson and that is the importance of antagonistic as well as stabilizing muscles. In the past, I had performed strengthening exercises only on the prime movers for whatever sport I was training for. This meant for swimming, I hit the lats, pecs, shoulders, and triceps while ignoring the muscles in the middle of the back and biceps. I didn't work the forearms at all. There is a symbiotic relationship between the prime movers and their opposite muscles that I don't fully understand, but I'm beginning to appreciate.

To address my problem, I began to work the muscles on the top of my forearms. I did this a number of ways. One was to deposit a very light set of dumbbells (5 lbs) where I like to watch TV and while relaxing in front of the tube to do reverse wrist curls. I did more aggressive work outdoors at Plate City Gym. To make a short story long, it worked. Over the following years, whenever I became a little lazy on the top of the forearm work, the pain reappeared on my longer swims. This has happened enough to know that I rightly identified the problem as well as the solution to the problem.

This brings up another issue that I can't pass by: the issue of isolation vs compound movements. If there is anything that gets on my nerves it is the absolutists whom I continue to bump into when reading literature in the field of exercise physiology. For instance, I read a number of articles and watched some videos that expressed in no uncertain terms that Crossfit is the way all athletes will train in the future. Nothing else will work. The problem with that position is it is simply not true. I admire Crossfit, and I do incorporate some of their moves into my own regiment. But Crossfit is not the end all of fitness. It just is not and no single form of workout is or could be.

Another absolutist group is the Pose Running sect, a strange bunch that says their way of running is the only way to run and no one else is running correctly. This, like many of these athletic fads, is a theory that came about in someone's head while possibly drinking too much wine, certainly not while running. If you follow their instructions on how to run (yes, they describe in detail how to run), you will find their method is actually impossible. What they describe is running in place. It literally does not work, yet they insist that they do it and so should everyone else. Crazy. Usain Bolt can't run. Marathoners can't run. Olympic sprinters, football players, kids on the playground all are doing it wrong. You can't make this stuff up.

Had enough? Here's some more. Recently, I read an article that said science has proven there is ONE way to build strength. That one way is sets of three reps. Anything else, the three-rep evangelist said, is not strength training but some other form of training. That brings up a whole separate issue. Many people are invoking the name of science, but of course they rarely mention the study that allegedly backs up their claims. But how can anyone in the name of science or any other name say such a broad and obviously false statement. All those athletes and strongmen who went before weren't even strength trained, according to this theory. They just thought they were strength training and thought they were strong and made the rest of us think the same thing when they squated 1,000 pounds or bench pressed 600+. You can't make this stuff up!

Want more? No one is more dogmatic and nothing is more faddish than the current compound movement versus the isolation movement gurus. We only move and perform in compound movements and never compete using muscles in isolation, so why isolate muscles in training? That is logical. Unlike some of the other fads I have covered, it actually makes sense. But again, to totally rule out forms of exercise that have worked for decades is uncalled for. For instance, if training is specific (a long established exercise maxim that I agree with) and if we only compete with compound movements (which we do) then swimming long, long distances (which I did and do) would totally prepare my body for the rigors of those long swims. The problem is it doesn't. BUT, you protest, you are resorting to anecdotal evidence. Two responses. First, anecdotal evidence is evidence. Maybe it is not proof, but it is evidence. Second, some of the fads I have discussed aren't even based on any evidence. They are based strictly on theory. And that is the case with the current compound movement versus isolation movement sect.

Once more, I like compound exercises, not because they are the only way to do things, but because of their economy (work more muscles with fewer exercises) and because they place a larger load on the heart and THEORICALLY add a little boost to the VO2 max machine. But sometimes, and especially with a weak link, the best thing to do is to isolate a muscle and strengthen it. Is this not self evident in the case of my forearms? If you will argue against that you will argue, plain and simple. I care not to argue for the sake of arguing. 

Enough of the hand pain and forearms. Chicot Challenge II brought to light another weak link. I swam the last few miles of that one with a severe pain between my shoulder blades. Sound familiar? Antagonistic/stabilizing muscles once more proved to be the part of my body that needed bringing up to code, so to speak. This time I didn't have to ask to think to meditate. I went immediately to Play It Again Sports in Jackson, purchased some heavier dumbbells and started to work. I always hated bent rows and one-arm bent rows, the opposite of my favorite bench press that works my prime movers for swimming. Note: if you hate an exercise, that is pretty strong evidence that you need to do that one. If you hate it, most likely you are weak and inefficient in that move and therefore can benefit from performing that exercise. To make a short story long, I began to pay more attention to my mid-back and for Chicot III, all was well.

Chicot III revealed pain under the shoulder blade which is one of the rotator cuff muscles. So you know what I did for the next year. Now I am either stretching or doing some sort of light dumbbell work whenever I am watching TV. All seemed well for Chicot IV. I had solved all the problems, strengthened all the week lings, right? Chicot V brought one more weakness to light. While training for my latest big effort, I began to experience some neck strain. Then the Tuesday after Chicot V, I awakened in the early hours of the morning on my right side. I rarely sleep on my right side, and when I moved, a muscle in my neck pulled. I hope you never go through that. To make a short story long, although my neck is not yet 100%, I have already started working on it. What's next? Where is the next weak spot? I have no idea; I hope nothing. Only time can tell.

History of Chicot Challenge (Part IV)

Having a pontoon boat on the water gave the swim a whole new feel. Professional, organized, protected. Remember how all this started. Chicot I, besides the Commonwealth article, had no fanfare, a sparsity of planning, and little organization. It was only Randy, Robin, me, and a big lake. We just went out and did it.

As the swims got longer, however, the logistics became more complicated, the crews grew larger, and the buildup more intense. But once I experienced a swim with a pontoon boat, I knew there was little chance of going back to the more primitive conditions. Not for Chicot anyway, but maybe for a shorter personal swim. I do have some things in mind. That, however, is for another blog post.

Besides giving the paddlers a chance to rest and providing me more protection in the water, the pontoon made it possible for my wife to be there in 2014, and my daughter to be on board in 2015. Maybe it's vanity, but the more eyes on me, the better I swim. And having the two most important women of my life on the boat at the same time made the swim extra special. Randy and Robin were also there. Justin was back for the second year in a row. And new to the swim was Shane Ray who paddled and swam support, and Trevor McClain, the first member of Team Centerville to be in the crew.

Chicot IV was announced as a 19.0-mile effort. The plan was to start at Ditch Bayou, turn south on the big lake and swim a little less than two miles, cross the lake and then swim up lake to the State Park. Notice what was different about the course: no Connerly Bayou. I want to go up that thing in a boat one day, but my swimming in there is done.

The swim went well. The water was flat, I felt good, and the crew performed exemplary. Randy even swam with me for two and a half hours straight. That was old-time fun and reminded me of the good old days when we trained together in the catfish ponds. Just below the causeway, we saw a couple of people standing on the bank and holding a sign. We veered in toward shore and found Bethany and Evan Theilman. That was a very touching moment for me, and I cried a little bit. 

Robin even swam some when we got on the upside of the causeway. Randy was in the kayak the last few miles. At some point, I took the Garmin from under my swim cap and gave it to Randy. I knew we were going to be a few tenths of a mile short. "Get me nineteen," I pleaded with the tall guy. "We'll get it," he responded.

Swimming past the landing was difficult when every cell in your body is screaming, has been screaming for hours to stop. But we went past the landing, out into the middle of the lake, and looped around to finish with exactly 19.0. Several members of Centerville Baptist Church were there: Gerald and Debbie Johnson, Kelsey McClain, Sheila and Bridget Mitchell. They all had their pink Chicot shirts on and I could see them from more than a mile away. Bridget gave me cookies. Bethany and Evan relocated to the landing and were there when we came ashore. I was moved by their support and once more was amazed that we pulled it off.

Team Centerville along with my daughter (center front)
and Justin and Randy (back left).

Since I have recently written about Chicot V, I will be brief. A few differences should have an impact on future swims. One was the course. Every year I have swum a different route. I think we finally stumbled upon the best one and the plan is to use the same course for next year's swim. This will allow us to get the mileage really close. All we have to do is add any additional distance to the leg towards Greenville. We turned this year at exactly two miles on the south end and on the north end we turned at a land mark. So now the course can be adjusted easily and accurately.

Another difference, of course, was the crew. Gone were the old mainstays, Randy Beets and Robin Bond. I can never thank them enough or repay them for what they have done in the past swims. But coming all the way from North Carolina? Randy did it twice. To expect both of them to make that trip is too much. So I rebuilt the crew and then with the change of date, I lost three of the new crew members. Justin had previous plans as did Danielle and Tristan. To make a short story long, we did not have a lot of experience out there, we had no support swimmers, and for the first time ever, we had only one kayak. Nevertheless, everyone performed perfectly, I didn't seem to miss having someone in the water with me, and one kayak was enough. In short, I now have a new crew and one that now has experience.

I also have a new attitude. My own emotions were my biggest adversaries during the buildup to Chicot V, but when it was all over, I was and remain the most encouraged and determined I have ever been. God has given me a gift and He has guided my stumbling into this event that uses that gift for others. It's not that I am a great swimmer. But I do have an ability for developing swim endurance. I didn't discover this ability until I was in my 50s. But by His grace, I have not squandered this one. I don't know how long I can keep this up, but while I have the vigor, health, and desire, I plan to keep swimming.

Oh, one more thing. I started this essay (in Part I) mentioning the weaknesses these swims reveal. I bet you think I forgot about that. I did. But since I just remembered, I think that will make a good topic for another post because I have a bit to say about that and the topic crosses over into the realm of exercises physiology. So look for an upcoming post titled, "Weak Links in the Chain."

History of Chicot Challenge, (Part III)

To this day, Chicot II (2013) remains the toughest swim I ever did. I knew pretty early on it was going to be a long day at the office. The water was choppy, the weather was threatening, and by half way in I wanted out. But my crew: Randy, Robin, and my son Forrest, pushed me on to the finish. Once we had to take refuge from a major storm under the causeway. We had begun that day at Lake Chicot County Park, directly on the other side of the lake from Ditch Bayou. The plan was to swim back towards Greenville for a mile or two before turning around and finishing at the State Park. Instead, with a storm stalled over the State Park, we eventually turned back towards the County Park.

Swim morning 2013

Besides the distance, 16.0 miles, and the course, a major change in the Challenge for 2013 was a switch from the American Diabetes Association to the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi. Only days after the swim, I received a text message from Mary Fortune of the DFM. In short, she said she had seen the article on my swim and asked me to consider them if I did another such adventure. On my way to Masters Swim when I got the text, I pulled over and wrote back that I would like to talk to her later. She called immediately.

Smart lady.

We chatted and she told me a bit about the history of the DFM and some of what they do. Later I checked them out at www.charitynavigator.org, and I also looked over their website at www.msdiabetes.org. In 2012, I had mailed money to Alexandria, Virginia when right here in Mississippi we have more diabetes than virtually everyone in America. With 100% of donated funds staying in the State of Mississippi, and 89% of every dollar given going to its charitable purposes, it was a no-brainer. Any diabetes swims I would do from then on would be for the DFM.

I suppose Chicot II is one of the reasons I have always been nervous before my big swims. I never feel confident and the 2012 swim is always in the back of my mind. I know a swim can go from good to bad to worse. It's happened. To me. It ain't fun. 

Be that as it may, Chicot III, 17.7 miles, was fun. New for 2014 was the addition of a pontoon boat which I rented from South Shore Cottages. Justin Nunnery piloted the boat in addition to doing some support swimming with me. Joining Justin were my wife, Penny, my irrepresible son, Forrest, Paul Brown, Randy Beets, and Robin Bond. Randy swam and paddled. Robin paddled. Paul and Forrest had to leave about half way through when I was swimming up Connerly Bayou. The bayou was a little weird, beautiful but disconcerting. I was nervous the whole time we were in there and when we finally got back to the main lake and were rejoined by the pontoon, I felt like a new man. And having my wife, Penny, on the boat gave me tons of inspiration. 

The ride back to Ditch Bayou (Chicot III)

Bethany Theilman of the DFM and her son Evan were waiting on us at the boat ramp at the State Park. Bethany rounded up some fishermen and their families, and I was greeting to cheering, handshakes, and congratulations upon exiting the water. It was a good day. 

History of Chicot Challenge (Part II)

The trouble with being hooked on open-water swimming and living in Mississippi is there are no events around here. Since I accidentally found That Dam Swim while poking around the Internet, I thought I could find a wheelbarrow load of races if I just made a little effort. I was wrong.

People in Mississippi don't do open water swimming. There is a one-mile event in Vicksburg and of course there are triathlons, but no marathon swims. I could not find any in Louisiana, Alabama, or Tennessee. I did find a 5K in Georgia and lots of event in the Northeast and the far West. But down here, nothing. And to make matters worse, That Dam Swim disappeared. Later I found out that the event was reduced to a 10K, but the race director never contacted me or responded to my inquiries into swims.

It was four long years later before I did another big swim. Once again, by accident, I found Swim the Suck Ten-miler in Chattanooga, Tennessee, a race named after Suck Creek that runs into the beautiful Tennessee River. I recruited Randy Beets to do the event and we got in on the race its second year. Founded by English Channel Swimmer Karah Nazor, this race quickly became a destination swim, and there I met open water swimmers from around the country and world, and just like with That Dam Swim, the experience was positive. I finished the race wanting more. 

We did our first Suck, as people call it, in October of 2011. Then sometime early in 2012, I received a text from Randy that he had just finished a neat kayak trip on Lake Chicot, thirteen miles of beauty, he said. I think he was scheming on me because he knew I had done a twelve-miler, and I had expressed to him the desire to swim farther. When I responded to his text with: "That sounds like it would make a nice open-water swim," he immediately shot back, "I'll crew you if you want to do it."

A shot from Swim the Suck.

When someone offers to crew you (paddle in a kayak beside you, feed you, protect you, and guide you), you don't say no. So a quick check of the calendar revealed that my birthday, June 2, was on a Saturday that year. We set that as the date, and I began to train. We called it The Fattie Chicot Challenge (later I reduced the name to The Chicot Challenge) and Robin Bond wanted to help. About three weeks before the swim, I decided to turn the Challenge into a fundraiser for diabetes. Since everyone has heard of the American Diabetes Association, I chose them as the recipients of the money. My interest in diabetes was fueled by my mother's experience with the disease and by me living long enough to run headlong into the condition over and over and over. I basically buried a church one member at a time due to diabetes. Diabetes ruined my mother's health. My mother's mother was a diabetic as was her grandmother and her great-grandfather. Both her sisters were diabetics. My wife became a diabetic. I could go on, but let me just say this. My dad raised me have a consciousness concerning heart disease. But over time I have come to see that it is not heart disease I need to fear but diabetes.

At the end of Chicot I.

To make a short story long, we did the swim starting at the State Park and going to downtown Lake Village and back. We raised a little over $1,200. Although Randy told me the course was thirteen miles, I had to swim 13.94 to make it back to the landing. Just like the other swims, Chicot I set my soul on fire. For a few days afterwards, I didn't want to think about swimming. But it wasn't too long before I yearned for more.

Randy shot and edited this video.

Note: On Chicot I and II, we did not strictly follow English Channel rules. We did on Chicot III - V.