Beautiful morning for a swim in Delray Beach! The Delray Ocean Mile has traditionally been held the first weekend of the year, but due to uncooperative weather, it was moved to May. I arrived at Anchor Park before sunrise and the lifeguards were already staffing the registration table. A walk on the beach revealed a little chop. My big toe determined the water was borderline bearable at 78F. Soon the beach was flooded with my fellow Wahoo (Palm Beach Masters) teammates. Our team always supports our city and county ocean lifeguards. This would not be another lonely swim, oh, no!
At the beach, the race director, another fellow Wahoo, gave instructions to the 200 or so swimmers. The course started perpendicular to the beach heading east toward a buoy, turned 90 degrees due north to a buoy with a flag, turned 90 degrees to another buoy 50 yards away, then turned left toward the first buoy, making that diagonal the longest leg, to finally turn right at the first buoy toward the beach.
The gun went off and the swimmers started en massetoward the first buoy. I hung back. Why get pummeled in that madness? I wasn’t winning any awards, I thought. This was a C race for me: plain old fun. Many swimmers hung on to the first buoy looking scared or out of breath. I calmly navigated around people, turning on my left shoulder and heading north toward the buoy far in the distance. I got quickly into a rhythm since I’d already warmed up a bit with my friend Roy. For these short races I actually need to, since otherwise I’d spend 10 minutes warming up of the 35 or so minutes I should actually be racing.
The water had a bit of chop to go along while swimming north. I couldn’t see the second buoy. All of them were very small, so I figured I didn’t want to spend my energy trying to find it. I followed the field of swimmers ahead of me, staying within the line of lifeguards on surfboards. I wasn’t quite on that second buoy when I finally saw it, which aggravated me a bit. I veered left to turn. The turns at the second and third buoys were uneventful, but as I started the longest leg, I confirmed that it would also be the most challenging. The waves were hitting me almost broadsides. The waves were turning my body to a course too high for the last buoy. I kept trying to right myself, which proved a little frustrating particularly because the field had thinned out and there was no line of lifeguards to follow on that side of the course. I ended the diagonal too early because of that, which caused me to follow a straight course for the last buoy. That was even worse in terms of keeping a straight course. Luckily, I could spot the buoy and Iined it up with a building, which made staying on course easier. I was a bit mortified because I didn’t think I’d handled the diagonal well and thought I’d be embarrassed at being one of the last people not only on my AG, but overall. My teammates would be there to witness my embarrassment, so the thought made me feel worse.
I always feel embarrassed at being a slow swimmer rather than being proud of myself for improving significantly since I started swimming with Masters 3½ years ago. After 5 months, I attempted my first open water race, the swim leg (1.2 miles) of a half-iron aquabike (the first two legs of a triathlon). I continued the aquabike and triathlon swims until last year, when I became more interested in long distance swimming. I attempted my first 5K at 2½ years of experience. Two months after, I successfully attempted my first crossing of the Chesapeake Bay. I completed my first marathon swim after 3½ years of swimming with Masters. I have planned another crossing of the Chesapeake and 3 marathon swims before the end of the year. Yet somehow I feel embarrassed I’m slow.
My friend Roy and I stayed to watch the awards. I wasn’t expecting anything. When I got out of the water, I got a popsicle stick with a 125 written on it. I gave my stick to a lifeguard who asked my age group and name. I couldn’t read the page, because I was wearing my contacts, but I did see lots of checkmarks. 7 to 10, if I remembered correctly. So oh, well, I thought. Not such a good swim.
It was Wahoo domination! The teal green of my team dotted the age groups and in a few cases, it was a sweep. When the announcer, who mispronounced everyone’s names, got to my age group, he read a name but no one came. Then he said it again and Roy gave me a little push saying “That’s you!” I was so stunned I actually walked slowly in case the announcer had made a mistake. I told the announcer the correct pronunciation of my name and he gave me my third place medal. I put it over my head, very happy about my status as a middle of the pack swimmer and the fact that my embarrassment was spared.