Sunday, September 10, 7:10 a.m. RACE START!

With goggles and swim cap in one hand…

(…& hopefully your nutrition in the other hand).

I had already ingested the 100 calories of caramel sauce minutes before…I sprinted from the athlete prep area onto the beach in the hope that I wasn’t too late to start with my age group.

The spectators were cheering me on as I ran onto the beach, like I was heading for the finish line, not the start line. I turned the corner and now I was 25 feet from the water’s edge. I could see the men in my age group were just entering the water.

(So, that’s good?)

Yes, but it wasn’t the important thing.

(You were only 20 seconds behind. What was more important?)

The fact that no one was stopping me. I was so excited to be starting this race that I was punching my fists into the air. An official video caught my excitement.

I pulled the orange swim cap in my right hand over my head and pulled my new swim goggles over my eyes. I started the tracker on my watch as I crossed over the timing mat at the water’s edge.

(Why track yourself if they were going to officially track you off your ankle timing chip?)

Because I would not have access to my phone to pace myself.

(I don’t understand)

Normally…

(What is “normal” in your world?)

…when I get off the bike, I check my run pace off the official Ironman app. It predicts your finish pace off your current pace.

(& since you would not have your phone at the Ironman World Championships, you were going to need all the help you could get.)

The carpeted path paved my way to the sea and the waters of the Mediterranean kissed my feet as I stepped forward.

A beach swim start is not like jumping into a pool. The deeper the water becomes as you enter, the slower you walk due to the resistance of walking in the water.

(So how do you know when to stop walking & start swimming?)

For me, it is when the water starts to cover my knees.

(Why knees?)

That’s when the water’s depth is enough so that my hand does not touch the bottom when I swim.

I leaned forward, prone like Superman leaping from a tall building and the water enveloped me like a warm blanket. I put my face in the water & the Mediterranean filled my ear canals with fluid. For a brief moment my world went silent. The noise of the crowd was extinguished & my sight was filled with the aqua blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The pebbled sea floor below me vanished as my arms pulled me away from shore. The aqua blue silence lasted less than 3 seconds, but time slows down when you are underwater. Time & motion are both distorted by water as it bends the light. Reflexively, I rotated my head to breathe & I sounds of the cheering crowd back on shore replaced the “aqua blue silence.”

This was my first Ironman swim without a wetsuit in 10 years. Ironman Louisville had been warm in 2014 & I had the advantage of swimming downstream in the Ohio River that year. There would be no advantages afforded me by the Mediterranean this morning.

(You were only 10 feet off the shore. Only 12,662 more to go.)

Initially, I swam in the wake of the competitors in front of me. I had faith that they knew where we were heading & there was nothing to be gained by sprinting ahead this early in the race. Normally, the 2.4-mile Ironman swim is a loop. This swim looked like an “M.”

(“M” like the Ironman logo?)

Yeah, like that. Yay me, a swim course with three turns.

(A loop has 3 turns.)

Not helping. On a looped course it is easy to see the turn markers due to their proximity to each other. Not here. I was now 1,000 meters from the shore & it was time to change direction.

David Roher is a USAT certified triathlon and marathon coach. He is a multi-Ironman finisher and veteran special education teacher. He is on Instagram @David Roher140.6. He can be reached at [email protected].