One of the most frequently asked questions I get each time I declare my ambitions of completing the half Ironman triathlon is, “Can you even swim?”. With great consistency this question is accompanied by either a look of great consternation, a curious giggle or a deep frown of pity. And you know what, I get it. My physiological attributes don’t exactly scream “Michael Phelps get out of the way, here comes Bra Ntsimbi” and the lived stereotypes of people of my hue does steam ahead of us… Sadly we often tend to believe it.
My existential experience with the water in the context of swimming was at best with local municipal pools which were colloquially called “Jake” (still don’t know why they were called that), where we would jump into the water in the commonly known gesture of bombing and wrestle with friends at the shallow end, strictly I might add, of the pool. Only on occasion would I swim across the length of the pool and this would be under the guise of a race. One lap and the winner would be crowned a fish, only one lap.
On the occasional December holidays to my mother’s homeland would we visit the ocean, and it is there where swimming minimalism would be taken to new heights. Geared in my swim shorts I would edge as closely to the periphery of the shore, making sure that my feet are firmly nestled on the ground and with perfect precision wait for the next wave to jump over. If I went beyond the depths where water was above my waist, in my world this would be considered a daredevil act. I would be probably be labeled MacGyver. This love hate relationship with swimming is not unique to me, so I absolutely get it.
A few weeks back I decided to take advantage of the plethora of easter holidays by participating in an ocean swim race in Durban. The perfect preparation for my upcoming Ironman race. It would be a 1.6km swim in the belly of the ocean. Before you commend my act of bravado given my history with swimming, in truth I was coerced by my wife’s work friend. I naturally could not make my wife look bad by whimpishly admitting to my fear of swimming in the ocean. With my wife gleefully salivating at the prospect of a road trip it was a done deal. In hindsight I realize she wanted assurance that I actually would be able to swim in the ocean and not so much the prospect of a road trip (she doesn’t like Durban as a holiday destination).
On the morning of the race the weather was overcast, dark and grey. The Durban skies seemed to be angry and not pleased with my arrival as usual. This alone pushed my already pent up anxiety to uncomfortable levels. The ocean itself did not do me any favors as I looked on. See, the ocean is a simple beast. It reflects its surroundings. When the skies smile in blue they reflect the smile back, when greeted by the grumpiness of grey surroundings the ocean reciprocates. As a result, when I got to race briefing I was petrified. I recall some of my teammates from Embark who had also driven down for the race making conversation, but to be honest I do not remember anything they said. I was all consumed by this grumpy looking old ocean I was about to submerge myself into. Only thing I remember was three blokes having a bloke conversation, you know the “ya bru’ kind of chats. One of the blokes who was wearing a black wetsuit much like me was being assaulted with banter. “Bru you do know wearing a wetsuit makes you look like a seal, a favorite shark meal”. How I did not wet myself at this point is a mystery.
When the race began I was not even sure it began, everyone ran in with a frenzy of excitement that I could not understand, why would any sane person rush to their deathbed, I kept thinking. So I just strolled inside taking in my last moments of life and waved goodbye to my lovely roommate.
What you don’t know as a first time swimmer is that the hardest part of an ocean swim is the first 50 to 100m. Here the waves are relentless, they do not care about your existence or why you’re there. They are rushing to the shore as if their life depends on it and you are not going to stop them. The easiest analogy I can think of for someone who is not a swimmer is that it is almost like trying to enter the train station at peak hour in the opposite direction. There is that much resistance. You can’t just stand to get out or in. So to get to the first bouy you have to fight. You jump over the waves or swim under them but you fight. Getting to the first buoy is not easy.
I could not help but think of the parallels with starting a new venture. It is not easy going to the gym after years of shirking. It is not easy writing that business plan and drafting a financial model that makes sense. It’s not easy giving up an addiction that you have held onto for years. It’s not easy building a network of reliable associates and friends. You have to fight for it, particularly at the beginning. We all have waves that push against our desired plan and sometimes those waves are relentless, but one thing for sure, waves are not going to stop being waves for you. The sooner we realize this the better we will be prepared for them.
After I made it to the first three buoys, I started gaining some confidence, and began trying to make time by swimming a tad faster and harder, but the harder and faster I swam the further away I drifted from the main pack of swimmers. This would be fantastic if i was drifting forward towards the next turning buoy, but this was not the case. Not only was I drifting away from the pack of swimmers, but I was also drifting away from the buoy which made each and every swim stroke an effort away from my goal. The thing about open water swimming is that there are no markers in the ocean floor to guide your path except for the buoys that appear and disappear with each passing wave. Therefore you need a different method of navigating.
This in the open swimming world is known as sighting. As obvious as it sounds it’s something that needs practice. Sighting involves the skill of occasionally glancing towards your goal as you swim to ensure that you are in path and pivot accordingly, each time you start to deviate. This saves you energy and time. When I realized that I was isolated from the group and further away from the buoy I panicked. I had become the isolated “seal” and having watched enough National Geographic shows I knew I had just positioned myself as the ideal meal for a predator. I literally saw sharks encircle me. My heart rate shot up and my breathing become shorter and heavier. I tried to swim as hard as possible to the next human being I could see, expending more energy than necessary.
That’s what panic does. It creates fictional reality out of illusion. Consumes important energy for unproductive causes. Keeps us busy but hardly takes us anywhere meaningful. Most of our life goals operate within the framework of sighting. The most obvious is that the goal firstly needs to exist. More importantly, however, as we work towards the goal we need to be careful of never being so consumed by the work that we do that we do not take time to sight the overall goal. Working smart is about taking the most efficient route towards our goal. Striking the seemingly tricky balance between knowing where we are going and actually working forward to where we going is difficult. However Like most things, sighting needs practice, and practice we must.
I eventually finished the swim. Thank God! And interestingly the same waves that were resisting my entry into the sea, were the same waves that were carrying me towards the shore. It’s often the case that, that which was a hurdle to your next step becomes the propeller to your destination.
“Be Brave and Take Risks: You need to have faith in yourself. Be brave and take risks. You don’t have to have it all figured out to move forward.”
Roy T Bennett
Reluctant Optimist 