Gearing Up
Back in February, Rebecca and I signed on to race Casco Bay SwimRun (the first "island to island" race in the US). Since we live over an hour
apart, we didn’t train together regularly early on, but each trained on our own
within the constraints of the injuries we’ve had in this past year and all the
other races on our calendar. We got
together once in June for a 5000m pool swim and 3 mile run, giving us a sense of
how our paces would match up. In the
last few weeks, we got together for three swim-run specific workouts using all
of our race gear, two in the ocean at Wildwood Crest and one at Marsh Creek
State Park. I also did a few swim-run
specific workouts on my own, alternating quickly between intervals such as 10
minute swim/ 10 minute run for about an hour, using some of the gear including
shoes and pull buoy strapped on.
The swim-run race allows for a variety of equipment, such as
paddles and fins. However, whatever
equipment you take has to be carried for the entire course (about 4 miles of
swimming and 10 miles of running broken into short segments with about 18 transitions). The course must also be completed as a team, staying within 10 meters of your teammate throughout the entire course. We
opted to swim with the shoes on, so a pull buoy helps prevent the feet from sinking. Also, swimming with shoes on, I have found
that you don’t get much power from the kick anyway. We did see a few teams swimming with fins,
but that would add to the transition time and could be difficult on the rocky
shores. I opted not to use paddles
because I have had shoulder pain in the past from swimming with paddles,
so I have only gradually re-introduced them into my training in small
quantities (no more than 300 m per practice so far). Also, since I am a slightly stronger swimmer
over long distances, it helped to even out our speeds by me not using
paddles.
Here is the gear we carried with us:
- Wetsuit cut above the knees and elbows (Huub amphibia for me, Head swim-run wetsuit for Rebecca)
- Innov-8 X-talon 200 trail shoes (super lightweight, grippy trail shoe)
- Pressure bandage (gauze and an ace bandage in a ziplock bag), maps, whistle, compass—all required by the race, but fortunately we didn’t need to use any of these
- Nutrition—Gu chews for me, cliff shot blocks for Rebecca, and some protein smash packs to share
- Paddles and compression socks for Rebecca only
- Swim tether (belts, carabineers, bungee cord, with much preparation ahead of time to adjust it to the right length)
- Cap & goggles
- New wave swim buoy provided by the race for visibility and carrying gps tracking device
- Bib number provided by the race (basically a tank top worn over the wetsuit)
- Pull Buoy with a strap to attach it to the leg
On our transitions from swim to run, as practiced, Rebecca
unclipped her tether and handed it to me (since my hands were free with no
paddles) to wrap around my waist and clip to the belt. I also opted to carry the New Wave swim buoy
because it was easier for me to handle with my hands free. As a trade-off, Rebecca carried our timing
chip, worn around the ankle. Around the
2nd or 3rd swim entrance, the timing chip fell off. Fortunately someone behind us saw it drop, so
we picked it up and stuffed it inside the wetsuit. Also, Rebecca tried to carry some extra body
glide, but when I asked her for it during our run on Peaks Island, it had
fallen out. We both ended up with some
wetsuit chafing, but my neck looks horrible right now, even several days later. I also got chafing near the front of
the armpits. I think I had too much
slack in the shoulders of my wetsuit, which is a trade-off for having enough
space to rotate the shoulders comfortably.
Race day
After a 4:30 am wake-up, coffee, and breakfast, our morning
started with a warm-up bike ride, about a mile, from our accommodations in
Munjoy Hill (Eastern Portland) to the ferry terminal. After locking up our bikes, we boarded the
ferry. Heading downstairs, we found a
section with enough room to do some stretching an warm-up during the 45 minute
ferry ride. Through the fog, we got to see
some of the course and key landmarks.
Originally, there was supposed to be a half hour delay for the fog to
lift, then they said the race would start on time 7 am. Getting into our wetsuits and getting ready
felt frantic, but we made it, and I think the race actually started closer to
7:15. After getting off the boat, we
were standing around in the back of the crowd.
Fortunately, Rebecca led our way through the crowd to a more reasonable
place for us to start near the middle.
The first 1.2 mile run on Chebeague Island was mostly on
roads. I was struggling to keep up with Rebecca at first, as we wove our way through the crowd. I felt the pull buoy strapped onto my leg slowly slipping down toward my
knee, and before I knew it, the buoy was on the ground. I called out for Rebecca to stop, and pulled
it up higher, onto the thickest part of the thigh. Having trained running with the pull buoy
numerous times, I was surprised by this race-day mishap. My only explanation is that my wetsuit was
still dry, and I hadn’t practiced running in a dry wetsuit with the buoy. I guess it wasn’t sticky enough to hold in
place.
Toward the beach there was a little downhill, and Rebecca
continued to lead the charge while I hung on.
Because of the crowd funneling onto a short single track section near
the dunes, it slowed to a walk while we got the tether ready for our first
transition. We started swimming right
away and started passing teams who were walking out into the water
further. This first swim is a sandbar
that was only underwater because it was close to high tide. Typically it might have been advantageous to
do dolphin dives in this section, but this is not something we practiced with
all the gear and tether. High tide was
expected at 8:40 that day, so we were expecting water to be flowing into the
bay at this point, pulling us from right to left. We were aiming a little bit to the right, but
I didn’t sight quite often enough during this first swim, so we did a little
bit of zig-zagging. There were other
teams all around us at this point, so the more important thing was to avoid crashing
into or getting tangled with other swimmers.
The water was shallow enough that we could see the rocks on the bottom
for most of this first swim, except a little bit in the middle where the water
was deeper.
The short run on Little Chebeague was a grassy trail. I turned my ankle (without any pain) early on
while trying to get some Gu chews out of my pocket. The front zipper of the wetsuit was difficult
to access with the required orange bib worn over it, so after this, I didn’t go
into the pockets unless I had plenty of time and a smooth running surface. As we approached the beach, there was a wood
boardwalk, and Rebecca’s feet slid out, but she managed to keep her balance. Then we slowed it down to be careful on this
section.
On the swim from Little Chebeague to Long Island, we started
to get into a rhythm, and the crowd spread out enough to be comfortable. The first run on Long Island was our first
introduction to the hills on the course, not huge hills, but noticeable
rollers. This was a cool section with
rustic island homes and piles of lobster traps on the side of the dirt
road.
The transition from this first run on Long Island to our
next swim was very rocky. Unfortunately, this was a very rocky entry to
the water, so I slid down in a nearly seated position. We mistakenly thought some of the lead women's teams were right in front of us, so our competitive instinct kicked in, and we pushed very hard through this section. This swim across Shark Cove was the roughest
water we encountered in the entire race.
There were noticeable waves flowing toward the shore (left to
right). Training in the ocean was
definitely helpful preparation, as the waves were not quite as big as the
Jersey shore. Another short, slow, and
treacherous journey on foot over the dunes (aka the “nubble”), and we were back
into the water headed to Vail Island.
The course map shows a run along the beach, but we were advised in the
pre-race meeting to enter the water as directly as possible and swim at an
angle to Vail. I think we were close to
high tide at this point, so there was not a significant current to account for
here.
Vail was by far the most dangerous part of the course, about
a half-mile scramble along the jagged rocky coast. It started to rain lightly, adding to the
slickness from ocean water and some kind of slippery algae-like growth in parts
where the rocks held water. I tend to be
overly cautious on wet rocks, having broken my arm hiking on wet rocks years
ago. I felt bad as Rebecca had to wait
for me a few times, and other teams passed
us. The scenery here was amazing, almost
reminding me of Ireland, but I tried to stay focused on the footing and not
look around too much. I started to feel
the strain on my right hip, as the direction we were going meant that the right
leg was usually at a higher elevation than the left leg. Rebecca provided great encouragement through
this section, and I was just happy to be back in the water soon enough for a short swim. Video of Vail Island
Exiting the water back onto Long Island, we quickly grabbed
some hydration at the aid station and got onto some serious running through a
quaint neighborhood. Some of our male
competitors complained that we weren’t supposed to be running so fast as we
passed them. I pulled out the old trick from cross country where you pass on
both sides (one person on the right and one on the left) to psych out your
opponent. Oops, sorry.
The swim from Long Island to Peaks Island was the longest
swim of the whole race, at nearly 1700 yd.
This was the easiest one to sight because we just had to stay to the
right of the small island (Pumpkin Nob) close to Peaks Island. There was a current moving from left to
right, and we started out swimming on the left of a team of men. I thought we were going to pass them, but we
ended up swimming side by side for a long time.
In retrospect, I should have dropped back and drafted off them. Since we were blocking the current from them,
I think it made it easier for them to keep up with us, and I wasn't able to pass them. However, it did prevent me from swimming off course, as
I would have swum right into them if I had allowed the current to push me sideways. As we
approached the small island, we passed more swimmers on our left, and again
only had a narrow path to swim between other teams. We also passed some folks with fins
here. As we approached Peaks Island, we
swam through a huge patch of seaweed.
Here, I was glad we trained in Marsh Creek with lots of plant life so I
didn’t get too freaked out by swimming through stuff. As we stood up, loads of seaweed were stuck
in our tether so we had to untangle it and lose that weight we were dragging
around. 
Peaks Island had the longest run of the whole course, about
3.5 miles. Preparing for this race, this
part was my biggest concern since 3.5 miles has been my longest training run in
the last month, due to my knee issues.
The race turned out to be much less painful than most of my
training. The first stretch of Peaks
Island was on roads, so we used this time to settle in and get some
nutrition. As we turned right onto the
trails, I was in front at first, but quickly asked Rebecca to take the lead and
set the pace. She did a great job of
calling out cues for the terrain and turns (rocks! roots! right!). The first part was a single track grass trail
with thick brush, so there wasn’t much room to go off course. However, the course was marked very well with
tons of pink ribbons. Once we got
further into the woods, the trail was less clear. It reminded me of a “Ron Horn” race (anyone
familiar with Pretzel City Sports knows what I mean). It looked like they intentionally made the
course go where there was no trail. Eventually,
we returned to the road and ran by some beautiful waterfront properties with
carefully tended gardens. The whole
neighborhood came out to cheer us on. Running for this long in a wetsuit started to
get hot. We ran by some bikes on the
side of the road and had the temptation to get on and ride. Toward the end of this run as we started to
fade, we had to stop and dig some nutrition out of Rebecca’s pockets that she
couldn’t reach. After a little run along
a rocky beach, we were back in the water at last.
All of the swim exits on the course were marked with a
yellow banner and had volunteers wearing orange shirts, so I sighted toward the
yellow and orange. I was swimming strong
and sighting often, right on my target. We
started to separate from other swimmers and had a volunteer kayaker right next
to us. I kept looking toward the kayak
every time I breathed to the side, and got no response or intervention from
them. Once I was close enough to see
clearly, the yellow and orange that I was sighting toward was a boat in
someone’s backyard, so I stopped and looked around. Rebecca pointed to the yellow banner, which
was a few hundred yards away. I
redirected and swam through a bunch of lobster traps to get there, a little
frustrated that the kayaker didn’t get in front of us and stop us sooner, and very frustrated with myself for sighting the wrong point.
We carefully went up the slick boat ramp onto Cushing
Island. On the smoothest running surface,
a nice dirt road, I suddenly felt my knee lock up. I couldn’t complain too much, because this
was our 2nd to last run and fortunately the first time I felt any knee pain
over the whole race. I eased off and
went carefully, especially over the rocks entering our next swim toward the
tower on House Island. I thought we were
supposed to aim to the left of the tower, but Rebecca yelled for me to aim
right, so we did and followed other swimmers out on some very steep and slippery
rocks. This part of the course was
ambiguous, as we had an option to swim around the island an additional 300
yards to the swim exit or exit early and do a rock scramble along the shore. We followed other swimmers over the rocks,
which were nearly as treacherous as Vail.
I took it very carefully, as my knee was about done at this point. It didn’t hurt that bad; it was just hard to
get it to bend. After the official swim
exit, we entered the fort (from the War of 1812) and saw passageways into
earthen embankments and ran through a tunnel made of stone. We skirted around the yard of the only house
on the island, and back along the beach toward the final swim. Volunteers were very helpful telling us that
the current was pushing everyone from left to right, so I sighted often and
aimed a little to the left of our target.
Onto the beach thinking we were done, there was still a steep staircase
to run up before a sprint to the finish.
Since I didn’t wear a watch, I had completely lost track of
time and was pleasantly surprised to see 4:14 on the clock. I estimated between 4 and 5 hours, depending
on conditions… how rough the water would be, how strong the currents, how
treacherous the terrain. I think the
water was calmer than I expected, but the sections on land were more
challenging and slower than expected. We
ended up as the 6th female team and 22nd overall (out of
about 120 teams). All in all, I am proud
of our teamwork, leaning on each other’s strengths, and nearly seamless
transitions.
The finish line celebration was great, with a sprinkler to
rinse off, free beer (Pale Ale and IPA from Funky Bow Brewery), and great food
(veggies and pasta for me, lobster and mussels for most, and some sweet
blueberry cake). There was lots of happy
chatter about the course. The only downside to the post-race was
waiting in the heat for the crowded ferry to get back to Portland. Then, before we could truly rest, we had to
ride our bikes back up the hill, which may have been the hardest part of the
day.
Later that day, we rode our bikes into the cobblestone of
the port area and explored the city. The
next day, we took a relaxing recovery ride and the Back Cove trail, a gravel
trail around one of the inlets. We had to get the biking in somewhere, to make it an unofficial triathlon weekend. After the bike ride, I went to collect shells from the beach, the same place we did a chilly pre-race swim on Saturday. Without a wetsuit, I made it less than 10 minutes in this water.
All in all, this was a great fitness challenge, a fun new
style of racing, and a unique opportunity to literally race together with a
teammate. This is not a race for the typical
triathlete overly concerned with splits and paces, but more for the adventurous
trail runner/open water swimmer. It has
elements of real open water swimming that most triathlons shield their
participants from, having to sight from up to a mile away and understand the effects
of tides, currents, and waves.
Since I was racing and couldn't think of a good way to carry a GoPro, I personally don't have many good photos or videos of the actual race, but here are some links with great coverage of the event:
Many thanks to
the race directors, Jeff Cole and Lars. Putting on a race of this length is no small feat, and especially considering that this was the first year for this race, it was an extremely organized and well-run event. Thanks to all the volunteers who kept an eye on our safety throughout the course and staffed the much-appreciated aid stations. The course was open for 6 hours, so these folks spent a long time out there supporting us. Thanks to all the sponsors, especially New Wave swim buoys and Funky Bow Brewery. Thanks to the local community who welcomed us into
their Maine island paradise and cheered us on from start to finish. Thanks to Travis Mills for his service to our country, and the Travis Mills Foundation, charity partner for this event.
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