Musings on Marathon Swimming

Warning:  I have no idea where this post is going to end up.  I have had thoughts rolling around in my head all week about last weekend.  For those of you that haven’t been paying attention—I was crew for a good friend of mine, David Livengood as he attempted to complete his triple crown of marathon swimming by completing MIMS (Manhattan Island Marathon Swim)—he as previously swam both the English Channel and Catalina Channel – and on Saturday became the 89^th person ever to complete all three swims.

Marathon swimming is a little different than some of the other ultra-type events – those you can do unsupported (though may choose not to).  But I don’t think that anybody ever completes a marathon swim unsupported—you are much more dependent on your crew than in most of the other endeavors.  

 Your mission as the swimmer is to just keep swimming and follow the kayak where ever it goes.  Meanwhile the crew (in this case we were 2 kayaks, motor boat with driver, chief crew, communications person and official observer) spend the entire time making sure the swimmer is safe, taking the best course (in the case of a swim with strong currents this is super important), properly fed, reporting to the outside world what is going on and occasionally doing a little sight-seeing.  It is surprising how much time all of this takes—there was actually not much time left for sight-seeing at all.  I have now participated in a marathon swim from the perspective of a kayaker.  We were on the water for a total of about 10.5 hours.  David took 9:54 for the swim but we were on the water before the start due to the logistics of swimmers, boats and kayaks around Manhattan.  

  

What did I learn from being a kayaker? 

1. The borrowed sit on top kayaks that the event organizer provides are definitely not comfortable—especially for over 10 hours straight.  
2. 10 hours passes surprisingly quickly when focusing on all of the jobs noted above. 
3. There is definitely a lot of teamwork involved in getting your swimmer safely around the island.  David picked a great crew—and Darrell was a great leader.   
4. The world continues to rock up and down for quite a few hours after you get out of the kayak.

Thinking about the swim—I know the longest I have swam in open water is about 3 miles—or about 1.5 hours—I have to give all marathon swimmers a lot of credit for the mental aspects of swimming that long-I think that that part is actually harder than the physical act of swimming for that long.  Unlike other ultra-sports the time is not spend looking at incredible scenery (or even boring scenery)—you are heads down ,in likely brown water, that you can only see a couple feet in front of you.  Your entire interaction with people during the swim is for about 20-30 seconds every 30 minutes when you stop to feed.  And that interaction is usually about how you are feeling, any adjustments to pacing, food etc.

 

My best memory of the swim is from somewhere in the 7-8 hr. mark.  We were out on the Hudson River—it was still fairly calm (it got really choppy as we went further south) and David had a feeding.  He pops his head up and announces to us:  “I’m having fun!   Are you having fun?”  downs his Perpetum and then right back at it.  Even though our butts were extremely sore by that point, we answered the question correctly.

Where is this leading?  I’m not sure.  I’m incredibly proud of what David has accomplished.  Does it make me want to become a marathon swimmer?  Not so sure.  Obviously I spend a lot of time pushing myself to limits—but somehow changing sports part way through seems to do a reset on your body and it’s like starting all over - - doing one sport for a really long time?  Hmm.  I guess it’s not just swimming either as I really have never done a really long bike or a really long run---looking at all those communities and many of my friends that do ultra-distance racing makes what I do seem just a little less crazy somehow.