*Insert Polite 'DNF' Headline Here*

In this scenario, I'm the mouse
and the cat is Lake Michigan.

... Because I want to title this post, "Mindf---ed." Which is exactly where I am, still, when it comes to open water swims. I thought I had a plan, but I was wrong. Though by now I should be thoroughly exhausted, I have more than enough energy to burn after a disappointing day -- rather race. A very disappointing race. My day wound up pretty nice, with many thanks and all appreciation to Sherry and her extraordinarily positive and uplifting outlook on life, me, racing and so much more. Thank you.

In case you're curious, here's a quick sum up of (my first) experience with a 70.3-mile tri-distance race. I think I trained enough to finish (of course I'll never know for sure). I did an open-water swim of about a 1/4 mile 10 days ago, and while I didn't like the open water, even in a non-race setting, I did finish and confirm my plan that I could breast until my breathing calmed down and then switch to free. 

Thursday night, I went to pick up my rented wetsuit. They didn't have it. The poor clerk was very sweet and truly sorry that it wasn't there, unsure if it might have been sold or double reserved and already out to a different renter. I think, all in all, I took it pretty well in stride. No anger, cursing or anything else. We went to another shop to try to get something last minute, and their only suit left didn't fit. Ah well. Forget it. I'll swim Lake Michigan in just my trisuit (which offers no buoyancy or warmth), since it's been in the 90s the past week or so. 

Most of the week, I'd been watching my intake to be lower fat, complex carbs and lean(ish) protein. Saturday we went to Racine to checkin and get the bike into transition. Things were mostly smooth and I was looking forward to the race (nervously, I think, Sherry will tell you). 

So, we got up at 4 and headed down to Racine. Setup my transition spot, found Sherry and we walked the mile up the beach to race start. Beautiful day. Not too big of swells (from shore). I wandered into the water and got acclimated to the temps -- I think about 65 degrees if I remember correctly. It would have been nice to have a wetsuit, but I'm not blaming, just observing. 

Pollock's "No. 1, 1949"

Then I was soon into my wave start, standing at the back, ready to get going and breaststroke until I got comfortable. Horn goes off, and in I go, walking until it got too deep. Then I started swimming, and it was OK. Then I started getting hit in the face by the swells. They compromised my breathing, and my mind went all Jackson Pollock. 

I saw one of the boats nearby and made my way over to hold the edge for a minute (legal). They asked if I was OK, and I said that the swells were tougher than I expected. (I was just barely a 1/10 mile in, and hadn't turned yet.) They asked if I was done, and said that the swells work more with you than against at the next buoy, which was the turn south. I thanked them, felt better and started swimming again. 

I made it a bit further, but the swells felt even bigger (I don't think they were). In my head, I was super-focused. On the next buoy, 1/10 mile away. I wasn't sure I could make it through the swells to get there. I tried to tread water for a bit and really think. What I came up with went something like this: "I don't think you can make it there. If you do, I'm not sure you can make the next one." While I was treading water, another boat circled nearby. There were already three racers in it that were done. I hung onto the side. I tried to get myself to go back out, but I couldn't make my f---ing hand let go of the boat. I climbed in. 

DNF.

I'm not going to recount the pain and disappointment in the decision to take myself out, the boatride back to shore, the walk up the beach passing by competitors whose waves hadn't started yet or anything else. That's between me and God. But I can tell you it sucked. 

I was lucky to have Sherry to help lift my spirits enough to make the walk back a mile down to transition and walk in, amongst all the people who did make the swim and were suiting up to bike, and I packed my transition bag and walked my bike up the hill and back to the car.

I encountered 3-4 different Ironman volunteers who were reassuring, wished me a better race and so forth next year. Even some spectators who saw me walking the bike out did too. It was heartening and what the sport is about. 

I'll be back. This isn't the end. I'm going to work on my psychology for the open water, which I suspect will be adding a lot more open water swimming to my training. As they say, "Winning beats finishing, finishing beats DNF, DNF beats DNS, and DNS beats Didn't even get off the couch." I'm only one step down from where I want to be and two up from where I was.