The Swim

Race day started at 3:30. I actually sleep well, but I had no problem waking up. The hotel was full of racers, so the hotel had a special breakfast at 4 for all the racers. All week I had been eating a lot. Breakfast was no exception. To me, the pinnacle of French cooking is the chocolate croissant. I had maybe 10 for breakfast. Along with some cheese and ham for some protein to fill me up.

After breakfast, we had a leisurely walk down to the start. The streets where strange in the before 5 am. Racers spilled out of the hotels in multi-colored spandex and headed like lemmings toward the start. The leftovers of the evening revelry stumbled home as we headed out for the day.

The morning setup was quick. I pumped up my tires with a borrowed pump (one less thing to lug across Europe), put my bottles on the bikes, and filled my bento box my food. I was surprisingly calm.

The swim course was a confusing two loops. After the first loop of about 2400 meters you run up on the shore (over a timing mat) and back into the water for a second loop. However, the second loop was inside the first loop and looking out into the bay the swim course made no sense. Everywhere people where having animated discussions (with a lot of pointing) and in many languages about where to swim. I was not too concerned. There was going to be a lot of people in front of the me.

The beach swim start was sectioned into starting corrals by approximate swim time. I did any easy warm up then found a spot in my corral. The clock ticked down to show time. The helicopter overhead added to the drama of the day.

At 6:30 the gun sounded and the French announcer yelled something. All 2300 of us gingerly (rock beach!) and quickly rushed into the water. I was racing Ironman France.

Once in the water, I tried keep my pace nice and easy. I had heard a lot of stories of the roughness of an Ironman swim. For me, it was not that bad. I got into a group and followed. People are everywhere, under the surface the water is churning, and above the surface orange swim caps and wet suits are all that is visible. Early in the swim, I simply follow and do not even bother looking for the buoys. As the group approached the first orange buoy the crowd swelled and you had to shorten your stroke. My group was actually well outside the first buoy, but there was really no choice on which way to go -- you followed the herd of neoprene.
After the first turn, the crowd lessened and I concentrated on an efficient stroke and staying on someone's feet to save energy. I settled into my Ironman pace -- whatever that meant. After rounding the last buoy and heading back to shore, I learned that saltwater and a sleeveless wet suit is not the best combination. Both my arms started chafing against the wet suit -- that was going to hurt later.

Eventually, I reached the shore for the first time and run up through timing mat and right back into the water. I glance at my watch and it reads 45+ minutes. I have no idea if that is good or not. My mind can do much math at this point. Heading back into the water, I pass several people that did not want to get back in.

The second lap was more of the same. I saw the diver filming the swim. I hope my form looked good. By the end of the swim, the chafing on my really hurt and got a lot of my attention. Then it was over. I ran up the carpet out of the silence of the swim on to the beach. I was out of the water in 1:16:12 and swam 2.4 miles. This was my longest swim ever and faster than the hour and half I had guessed.