I Was Terrified of Swimming—So I Signed up for an Ironman

It’s the morning of my first Half Ironman. As I gaze towards the Pacific Ocean, waves crash into the sand with fury. The water looks ice cold, and I begin to feel some fear. I wonder: Am I qualified to swim in this?

I walk my bike to the transition area of the Ironman Superfrog 70.3—a brutal half Ironman founded by a group of Navy freaking SEALs—and began to strip down into my swimming shorts. As I look around, there’s only one other guy not wearing a wetsuit. While I walk to the beach, the announcer calls me out: “This guy is a pro, he doesn’t even need a wetsuit!”

Pro? No, dude. It’s my first half-Ironman, and my second triathlon ever. At the starting line, I mention this to the guy next to me, who looks at me and says, “Wow, this would not be my choice for my first half.”

It’s at this moment when my fear shifts to complete and utter terror. I truly think I’m screwed. Against better judgment, I stand in the sand, ready to run into the surf.

The triathlon swim can be dangerous. Here’s how to stay safe and finish fast CrossFit competitions, I’ve always been up for fitness challenges. Really, nothing makes me feel more alive than pushing my limits and surprising myself along the way. So I guess it was only a matter of time until I made my way to the sport of triathlon, and then decided to push the distance with a half Ironman.

How hard could it be? I’ve always been a decent runner, and who doesn’t know how to ride a bike?

But swimming was an outlier, something I’d never really done.

I signed up for my half Ironman (70.3 miles: 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run) three months in advance, and then dedicated myself to the craft of swimming.

It was a bit nerve wracking to have such big goals and now a ticking clock in the back of my head, but that also motivated me to not skip workouts. I soon found a great swim club with a coaching staff to help hone my technique, met up with friends for longer rides, and went on a few long solo runs.

I was a bad swimmer at first, but the more time I spent in the pool, the faster and easier my laps became. Soon I was going longer without tiring, and then surpassing, and sometimes doubling, the 1.2 mile swim distance with ease during practices.

I felt good when I arrived in California for the race. But then I saw that surf—expansive, aggressive, cold, and unforgiving. At that moment it occurred to me that swimming in the ocean was going to be a totally different beast.

That night I Googled what I might expect in the water. In a few short clicks, I found that there has been a recent uptick in the number of fatalities at triathlons—45 over 8 years—the majority of which were freak, terror-induced heart attacks during the swim. Now, that’s what you call a confidence booster.

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Not exactly the stats I wanted to see, especially since, living in Arizona, I hadn’t had direct access to an open body of water with an actual current. I mean, the only fears I truthfully had before reading those death stats were the quality of the water, or getting kicked in the face at the start.

BANG! The gun for the elite racers goes off. I watch professionals struggling to get up and over waves, being pushed back and down constantly.

It might sound odd, but seeing this actually made me kind of happy. If even the pros struggle a bit at the swim when the conditions get rough, then I felt I had permission to struggle as well. I thought to myself: “I’m not competing against anyone but myself, so the only way I can fail today is if I don’t do my absolute best.”

The next thing I know another gun goes off and I’m running (Baywatch style) towards the crashing surf. I’m still scared shitless as I toss my body in the water. I’m also so hopped up on adrenaline and fear that it takes me a good ten seconds to realize that the water is nearly ice-cold. It’s, like, punched-in-the-lung cold. But I’m all in, so I just start swimming.

It’s rough at first, but soon all those hours I spent in the pool click in. I just fall back on the basics.

At times the water thrashes me around and pushes me under. In those times my heart races, so I try to calm myself by taking longer strokes and deeper breaths, even if it means slowing down my pace for a moment.

The course is two laps, and features a small beach run in between. When I emerge from the water after the first lap, a bit fatigued but invigorated at the same time, I jumped back in for lap number two with zero hesitation.

“I just have to do that one more time!” I tell myself as I dive through the waves.

Big mistake. In my confidence, I end up making a course for the wrong buoy and have to double back just yards away from reaching it. A bit frustrating, but—again—I fall back on the basics, hunker down, and just swim.

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And soon, I’m standing on the beach, transitioning to the bike. Cold as hell, alive, and feeling like anything is possible. I did it! Now all I had to do was ride 56 miles and then run 13.1.

My Advice For Surviving a Triathlon Swim:

Health & Injuries: Take a few months to really learn the technique of swimming. When the water gets rough and you get nervous, you can simply fall back on the fundamentals of swimming, and you’ll be fine. Many local swim clubs offer Masters Swimming A Part of Hearst Digital Media.
Exercises Navy SEALs Do Every Day: Swimming in open water is a far different beast than swimming in a nice, placid, temperature-controlled pool. This will help you be less freaked out on race day.
Start slow: I didn’t get kicked in the head because my course was so wide. I’ve heard horror stories of narrow courses being kick fests, though. If your course is narrow, consider hanging back until the first wave of swimmers is out of the gate.
Research the course: Is it an out and back? Is it multiple loops? Are you swimming in a channel alongside the shore, or are you swimming against the surf? These are all important things to note in advance and definitely train for.
Meet with your doctor: The swimming portion of the Ironman is the stage that has had the most historical fatalities, primarily from heart attack. So it’s important to make sure you’re in good health before getting started.
Health Benefits of Walking, According to Experts: I don’t know why I didn’t do this. In Ironman races, wet suits are prohibited with temperatures over 76.1 degrees Fahrenheit—so you don’t overheat—but in colder waters you should definitely use a wetsuit. It keeps you warm, and also makes you more buoyant, making it easier to swim.
Races - Places: When you’re swimming laps, you don’t have to check your course because you generally follow the pool’s centerline the entire way, and no current is pushing you every which way. In open water, you’re going to go off course. Check your line every few strokes so you don’t waste energy.
Relax: Don’t psych yourself out. If you get nervous, simply take deep, open-mouthed breaths when you can, and have a steady exhale through our nose while you’re under water.
Shoes & Gear: Depending on the direction of the swim course and the time of day, you may be going towards the sun as it’s rising. While this is a beautiful sight for spectators, it’s blinding for competitors. Don’t use the goggles you got from the convenience store the last time you were on vacation—pick up a strong pair of polarized goggles meant for open water, like the Hopping May Help You Run More Powerfully.

The article ‘I Was Terrified Of Swimming—So I Signed Up For an Ironman.’ originally appeared on Men’s Health.

My Advice For Surviving a Triathlon Swim:

Cross-Training