The Coolangatta Gold Part III, Handicap Control

Now, more than 2 hours into the race, the sun was high in the sky, radiation beating down on anything left in the open. Cool patches of water acted like intermittent sprinklers, helping to gradually bring down my body's temperature.

Get to the draft, I told myself, but don't spend it too early. There was still plenty of time to lose control and let the race get away from me. Focus.

Many people, after the race, said that the swim was their least favorite part of the event. Not because of the physical aspect of it, but because of the "Mind F@*#" that plagues many people. Looking down through crystal clear water, shadows from clouds or other objects are easily visible. Shadows, however, can be easily bent by the mind to resemble images of notorious fear. Add to this elixir idle time for the brain, and a front page picture of a 2.3metre Great White Shark from yesterday's paper, and the mind can play daunting tricks on you. (A juvenile great white shark was caught in the drum lines on Friday afternoon at Mermaid Beach.)

The space between the stand-up and myself was shrinking with surprising speed. A splash from someone's kick became visible behind me. Now past the stand-up and its respective swimmer, I scanned for a new target, a new draft. Two swimmers, 5 metres between them, swam side by side. Close the Gap. The splash behind me was now coming up on my left with frustrating speed. The sight of a White singlet gave slight piece of mind.

The relays were starting to catch up. Every category had its own colored singlet: Open Men, Gold; Open Women, Red; Masters Men, Blue; Relay Teams, White; and so on.

As we made our way past the first tall can, a 3-meter-high inflated vinyl cone, the first white singlet began pulling me along. One third of the swim now behind me, I worked the draft until I felt him up the pace. Another White singlet was moving up as well. Onto his wash. We worked past a few more swimmers before I fell off of his pace as well - but not before we passed the next tall can. Two-Thirds down. Let it roll. Hop-scotching my way from wash to wash (even passing a white jersey that had passed me earlier), I made my way to the final turn can. A left shoulder turn and in to shore.

Please be a wave. Any break is a welcome one. A small push, a burst of speed through the gutter, fall off the back. come-onnnnn, gimme somethin'! Another burst; a Quick breath in. Down the face I slid, briefly over-joyed by the small comforts of bodysurfing. Head back down; stroking the right arm, then the left and back to a streamline - not wanting to lose the wave and have to swim the rest of the way in.

3.5 km of swimming behind me, it was time to get back onto the legs. A water bottle's rinse. Some quick nutrition through the transition. Sunglasses and TYR Singlet back on, and I was into the "short run" - 4km.