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August, 2005
In 2003, Bill volckening was the first person to participate in all 12 USMS national championship events in the same year. This month's article highlights some of the memorable experiences from the second part of Bill's championship odyssey.
Championship Odyssey, Part 2
by Bill Volckening
By the end of June 2003, I had already done six of the 12 annual USMS championship events. Earlier that summer, I had changed my original plan of doing only a few of the championships, and decided to try for 11 out of 12. The lone exception would be the 10K Open Water Championship in Santa Cruz, California.
Santa Cruz just didn’t seem like a good idea – water temperature was expected to be below 60°, wetsuits wouldn’t be allowed, and escort boats were required. It was a 10-kilometer (6.3 mile) swim! I had struggled through the same distance in a cozy, 84° pool earlier in the summer, and was still swimming only 1600 meters each day. The water in Santa Cruz would be significantly colder than anything I’d ever experienced, and I had considerably less body fat than in the past. A year earlier, I had lost 70 lbs.
I knew it wasn’t a great idea to attempt the Santa Cruz swim, but the idea of skipping one of the 12 championships was really starting to bug me. I tried to reason with myself…and after downloading, printing, and throwing away the entry form several different times, I had pretty much accepted that the 10K just wouldn’t happen for me…or would it?
June 28, 2003 – One Mile Open Water Swim, Indianapolis, Indiana
The USMS One-Mile Open Water Championship fit perfectly into my travel schedule because it was an easy stop on the way to a July 4th family gathering in Maine. The evening before the swim, I enjoyed a great dinner at the famed St. Elmo’s Steak House with Jill Gellatly and Danielle Ogier – both outstanding open water swimmers from Texas. We arrived at the Eagle Creek Reservoir the following morning, well fueled and ready to race. Event director Mel Goldstein was scurrying around the site, checking details and making sure everything ran well, which it did.
With 128 participants, the swim was the largest of all the USMS open water national championships that summer – and it was a unique swim because it was a point-to-point straightaway on a rowing course marked by buoys. It was also the only national championship with electronic timing that was activated by a timing chip worn on an ankle strap. Swimmers triggered the timing system by stepping on a timing sensor pad when exiting the water.
Before the swim, I spotted US Paralympian Trischa Zorn – a visually impaired athlete who was born without irises. I had first met Zorn at the US Olympic Training Center in 2000. During the conversation, I noticed something unusual about one of her eyes – there appeared to be a bluish-green ring around the pupil of her right eye. She told me she had recently received her first artificial iris implant, and would receive the second later that year. I was fascinated by her story, and later wrote a feature about her in the September/October 2004 issue of SWIM (www.swiminfo.com/200409SM.pdf).
The swim went pretty well. As I ran through the finish chute, a swimmer in the 19-24 year old age group just beat me. I think I hit the timing pad before he did, but the timing device was on my other ankle. Oh well – lesson learned! I finished 17th overall and 4th in my age group.
July 27, 2003 – 5K Open Water Swim, Bend, Oregon
The Central Oregon Masters (COMA) of Bend, Oregon have built an excellent reputation for well-run open water events – and the 5K Open Water National Championship was no different. The event was part of the Cascade Lakes Swim Series – a weekend-long festival that includes events of varying distances. The swim, held at Elk Lake, on the Cascade Lakes loop, was definitely the most scenic venue on the schedule. It is probably one of the only summer swims featuring gorgeous snow-capped mountains in the background.
The 5K open water championship swim took place the weekend following the Oregon Association Open Water Championship at Applegate Lake in southern Oregon. At that swim, I was first person out of the water in a thrilling dash to the finish with wily open water swimmer Steve Johnson of Eugene, Oregon. It was the first time I’d ever been the top swimmer out of the water. So, I came into the 5K feeling confident – maybe a little too confident...
The 5K swim included 99 participants, who swam a diamond / triangle combination course in chilly water. Before the swim, All-American Sara Quan and I approached Steve Johnson to propose a shared drafting strategy. Steve came on board with the plan and agreed to rotate the lead position within our group of three, so that each of us would benefit equally from the draft.
Unfortunately, I fell off the pace early in the race when I got boxed-in behind another swimmer. Within about 200 meters, Sara and Steve had forged ahead, and I found myself out of the top ten and struggling to catch up.
I didn’t catch Sara or Steve, but managed to pass one or two swimmers on the way home, and finished 11th overall and 3rd in my age group. I was a little aggravated with myself for making such crucial navigational errors – but forgot all about it shortly afterwards. Swimmers, spectators, and volunteers enjoyed the famous COMA post-swim picnic, during which I indulged in a cold, refreshing mug of Bend Brewing Company’s handcrafted Elk Lake IPA. During the lunch and awards, friends reveled in detailed accounts of their journeys.
August 3, 2003 – 10K Open Water Swim, Santa Cruz, California
The deadline for the 10K Open Water Championship loomed, and the idea of skipping just one national championship event was starting to drive me nuts. So, I decided to get more information about it and give it a little more thought before making my final decision.
I contacted Event Director Joel Wilson to find out if it would be possible to locate a local volunteer who would be willing to escort the swim. I also contacted several experienced open water swimmers and coaches around the US for advice about how to survive a longer swim in cold water.
Everyone was very helpful, and Joel Wilson offered to find an escort kayak and paddler if I signed-up for the swim and covered the costs of the kayak rental. So, it came down to a decision about how determined (read: stubborn) I thought I could possibly be. Ultimately, I knew the feeling of “what if?” would haunt me if I didn’t at least try.
The morning of the swim, my escort paddler was late, and I was starting to panic. I had stocked up on all the necessary supplies, including fresh water, a thermos full of hot water, Balance Bars and energy drinks. I couldn't find any Gu or Powergel, so I settled for packaged sticks of raspberry applesauce. Because the paddler wasn’t allowed to touch the swimmer at any point, I had attached long pieces of twine to each item. I also brought silicone earplugs, a latex cap, and a neoprene “hothead” cap, my swim parka, and a bag with dry clothing and extra towels.
Just before the lengthy pre-race instructions began, my paddler finally arrived – but that didn’t ease the panic much. The water was around 60°, it was a little choppy, and there were reports of jellyfish. Although the pre-race instructions were very serious, and there were fewer than 40 swimmers brave enough to attempt the swim, Joel Wilson’s meticulous attention to detail made me feel a little better.
The swim would start by going away from the beach, toward a large sailboat. Then, swimmers would hang a right and swim north, parallel to the beach, from Capitola to Santa Cruz Pier. The race began, and I reluctantly trotted toward the water. After all the planning, I couldn’t exactly chicken out – but I hit the water and thought “UGGHH! How an I going to survive this?” The cold took my breath away, and I sprinted the first few minutes in an attempt to get comfortable – but that never really happened. The water was salty – another factor I never got used to.
I stopped every 20 or 30 minutes to refuel, re-hydrate, and speak with my paddler. One of his jobs was to watch for signs of hypothermia, such as a decrease in the number of strokes per minute, confusion, or an inability to speak. I was a little worried about it on the first break because my face was numb and it was difficult to speak. I felt like I’d been sucking on ice cubes.
About an hour into the swim, there was no other swimmer in sight. The cold had long since become demoralizing, but there was another factor coming into play – the chop had started to grow to larger swells, and it felt like I was going nowhere. I thought I saw movement below the water, but I stopped thinking about it when I nearly swam into a jellyfish the size of my head. After the swim, I learned that several porpoises and sea lions were darting around in every direction, escorting us.
As we rounded the Santa Cruz Pier, the water was finally flat, but the temperature felt like it dropped about 10 degrees. Swimming while shivering was a new experience, and reaching the pier was a false sense of security because it was more than 1/2 mile long. Eventually, I made my way up on to the beach, walked out of the water to polite applause from a few spectators and volunteers, and found my parka.
Everything seemed fine until about five minutes later, when I started to shiver uncontrollably. I had hypothermia. Fortunately, Jim Wheeler was observing and evaluating the event as a representative of the USMS Long Distance Committee. He directed (dragged) me to the refreshment table and told (forced) me drink hot chocolate. It was a little frustrating because I was shaking so badly, most of the hot chocolate spilled on my hand and wrist. The hotel adjacent to the pool had a large hot tub, and many of us ended up there for a while. 30-minutes later, I was fine – exhausted, but fine. I had large hickeys on my neck, caused by chaffing from my swimsuit, which I considered to be a temporary badge of honor for surviving the most difficult swim of my life. I completed the swim in two hours, 42 minutes, and was 14th overall and 3rd in my age group.
August 13-17, 2003 – USMS Long Course Nationals., Rutgers, Piscataway, NJ
Less than ten days after the 10K Open Water Championship, I was on my way to New Jersey for the USMS Long Course National Championships at Rutgers University. I lived in New Jersey most of my life – so Rutgers’ Sonny Werblin Recreation Center was a very familiar venue. I’d been there dozens of times, and knew my way around very well…or so I thought…
The campus was under major construction when everyone arrived for Nationals, so what was once a simple, five-minute drive from the main road to the pool had become a poorly marked, confusing, lost-for-45-minutes, and circuitous tour of what looked like a war zone.
Even though I was physically fit and confident from all the distance swimming leading up to Nationals, I was exhausted! The first event was the 1500, and it was the first time I didn’t improve my time in two years. In general, my times were a little off in most events, but I managed lifetime bests in the breaststroke events – more because I rarely swim them than because I swam well. I also had a lifetime best in the 200-meter butterfly, even though I cruised through it and barely broke three minutes.
The highlight of the meet was seeing my New England Masters teammates in our new National Team caps, which were royal blue with optic tennis-ball yellow lettering. I had designed the caps for the team, and they were very visible throughout the huge venue. I also met Australian Olympic champion Shane Gould. She was delightful!
October 12, 2003 – 6000 Yard Postal Swim, North Clackamas Aquatic Park, Oregon
Usually, I don’t like it when Masters swimmers commandeer lanes from lap swimmers during open swim. Unfortunately, when it came time to do the 6000-yard postal, taking a lap lane was the only way I could get the swim done. I tried to find a pool where I would be less likely to disrupt other swimmers. Joy Ward and I went to the open swim at North Clackamas Aquatic Park, a large water park complex with several water slides, a wave pool, a diving pool, and a lap pool. Hundreds of people visited the facility on weekends, but most used the water slides or the wave pool. There were usually several lap lanes available.
Although most of the activity was in the wave pool and on the slides, a few people were curious about what was going on in lane one of the lap pool. Who was this woman – sitting in a chair at the end of the lane, holding a clipboard and stopwatch, writing splits, and yelling wildly at the full-grown man in that funny looking torso suit? Why was the man swimming with such urgency? They must have realized it was some type of time trial – everyone stayed out of the lane, and Joy was not distracted from her task.
Several weeks prior to the swim, I had restarted a daily swimming routine after a couple weeks off. Instead of 1600 meters daily, I was swimming 3200 meters – and the extra distance turned out to be a good thing. I completed the first 3000 yards in 35:02 – a couple seconds faster than my 3000 split in the Hour Swim. At 60 minutes, I had completed 5095 yards – 20 yards greater than my Hour Swim distance. I finished the 6000 yards in 1:10.56.72 – almost 11 minutes faster than my previous best (1:21:38.96) from 1998.
October 19, 2003 – 3000 Yard Postal Swim, Tualatin Hills, Beaverton, Oregon
The weekend after the 6000-yard swim, there was time allotted at the Tualatin Hills Aquatic Center for the 3000/6000 swim. A handful of die-hard distance swimmers congregated on deck when I arrived with my other faithful counter, Jody Welborn.
It was a little ironic that my Championship Odyssey would end at Tualatin Hills. From September 1998 to April 2001, I coached the Masters group there. In October 1998, I introduced the group to the 3000/6000. Few had ever heard of the event before that – and the postal swim participation had been limited to two or three swimmers who did the Hour Swim each year.
Over the years, the group’s participation in postal events had increased dramatically – which helped catapult Oregon to several club titles in the postal long distance national championships. A few of the swimmers on deck were part of the original group who swam the 3000/6000 in 1998. It was incredibly gratifying to find them still participating in the swim five years later.
“Sudden” and “unexpected” are perhaps the most tactful words to describe my departure from Tualatin Hills in April 2001. More candidly, I had stormed off, flanked by the President and Vice President of the group. We left behind a board that was hopelessly divided – over petty issues such as who would install the lane lines each morning, and not-so-petty issues such as the club’s sharp membership decline following an eight-week pool closure. Many swimmers were devastated at the time. A few were relieved. The experience had ultimately made me a much stronger person, and that strength was starting to manifest itself in my swimming.
When Jody and I arrived at the pool for the 3000 swim, we were greeted with warm hugs and one or two very cold shoulders. One of the cold shoulders belonged to a fellow in my age group, who was one of my least favorite swimmers for reasons that aren’t particularly important to this story. His presence delivered me back to the most difficult days of 2001. It made me want to establish what I felt was the true pecking order, down in the pool, with the clock as the judge. I will never know his exact time, because he didn’t submit it for the national event – but I finished about 10 minutes ahead in 34:51.75. The rage didn’t go away ‘til later that day.
Most of the other swimmers thought, “gee, Bill sure swam well!” – but only Jody and I realized the significance of the 3000-yard swim. It was final swim of the 12 USMS national championship events in 2003, and I had reached the goal of participating in all 12 events.
Championship Odyssey
The ten-month long odyssey was punctuated by many vivid memories: Betsy Jordan breaking her fall and fracturing her wrist when she stumbled into the water at Decker Lake; Danielle Ogier teaching a young boy in South Carolina how to make unpleasant sounds by blowing into a straw pressed tightly in his armpit; 22 different plane rides and 19 nights spent in hotels; and subsequently, a very good short course meters season that included an 11 second drop in the 400 meter IM (5:10.67). Along the way, I encountered many extraordinary people, including George Brunstad, who would successfully attempt to become the oldest person ever to cross the English Channel the following year; Margery Meyer, who advised me to swim the 1650 like a wind-up toy that couldn’t stop; and Bob Beach, who unknowingly inspired my championship odyssey.
When the results of the 3000/6000 postal arrived, I had placed 12th overall and 4th in my age group for the 3000; and 11th overall and 3rd in my age group for the 6000. Those results weren’t particularly extraordinary, except for the fact that I had won the men’s 35-39 Long Distance All Star race by 10 points, over Jeff Erwin, who was truly the best swimmer in the age group that year. At one point, I heard a comment from another swimmer about how the All Stars were really those people who could afford to travel to the most events. That assessment wasn’t at all what the experience was about for me. It was about finding out what it would be like to experience every championship event USMS had to offer in the same year. It was about the many great people and places we get to know in Masters swimming. Most of all, it was about survival, soul searching, personal limits, new ideas, and growth. My championship odyssey was kind of like going to an all-you-can-eat buffet. I tried everything, had a few plates more than I should've, and waddled home feeling exhausted, full, and very satisfied.Return to List of Articles