Swimming to the Moon, a Race Report

Number 52: not my age, but close enough!

My last open-water swim event this year was Epic Racing's "Swim to the Moon," an event that takes place somewhere near Hell (Hell, Michigan, that is). I suspect the reason I chose this event was because I loved the name. It's actually several swim distances - one-half mile up to 10K - that take place in a chain of lakes near Ann Arbor (Jim, with his two degrees from Ohio State University, in fact, finds this region of the USA to be his personal version of Hell, as he is surrounded by Michigan fans).

I chose the 10K... because.. why not? It was a lake swim so the water would likely be calm and warm, unlike the ocean in my last one.

We stayed overnight about 30 minutes east of the starting line, which was at Halfmoon Lake. The 10K swims across Halfmoon Lake and through channels and small lakes connecting it to Patterson Lake, where it turns around on private property, and goes back. There's also a 5K that starts at Patterson Lake and goes to the same finish line as the 10K. At the turn, 10K swimmers are required to exit the water and can partake of any nutrition or other items they stashed there in a special-needs bag.

I got very little sleep in the two nights before the race because I've been battling anxiety issues (which, incidentally, have nothing to do with pre-race jitters... just dealing with health problems and family issues). When the alarm clock rang race morning (Sunday), I could barely open my eyes, and the last thing I wanted to do was deal with a race that might take about three hours. But I had made a commitment, and I reminded myself how much I love swimming. I would make the best of it.

That morning, unlike the two weeks leading up to it, saw a drop in temperature into the low 60s. This meant that the water temperature, at 76 degrees, actually exceeded the air temperature. It also meant I didn't bring warm enough clothes to wear that morning. All I could think was: Oh great! This time I'll get hypothermia BEFORE I even get in the water!

But there wasn't a lot of time to wait around, and by 6:30, we were standing on the small sandy beach being accounted for as we were shuffled through the starting line arch to wait for the gun.

Early morning start under the moon.

Everyone was mumbling about the cold. Some people were actually getting in the water to keep warm. My fingers started to get numb. It took a little while to count everyone - so long that I decided to put my raincoat back on to keep warm. I was told by one group of men that I "could use a little more weight in order to stay warm" (I assured them I'm trying, maybe swimming in progressively-colder water next month will take care of that).

One way to keep warm.

After a quick singing of the Star Spangled Banner, we were finally off. Here's a video of the start:

In about five minutes, I had completely forgotten about the cold and was now in the melee of arms and legs and people all trying to spot buoys in dim morning light. That didn't last long (the dim morning light or being stuck in the melee), and before I made the turn into the first inter-lake channel, the sun was out and illuminating the far side of Halfmoon Lake. It was quite beautiful - I was no longer feeling tired but just happy to be swimming along at a speed that allowed me to appreciate the day.

Just before we took that turn - and based on my swim the day before, I determined the distance to be about a mile - I settled into a pace that had me swimming steadily alongside two others: a man and a woman. I would go into the first channel with this little group.

Before the race, a guy had told me the channels were shallow and you could walk through them. What he really meant was you might HAVE to walk through them. I found myself completely tangled up in weeds and trying not to run aground. I had to keep my underwater arm-pull against my body just to avoid punching the ground below. Unfortunately, the woman swimming next to me occupied the slightly deeper water, and I couldn't force myself into her space without sending her into another bank of weeds. I had to back off in order to get into her wake and avoid beaching myself or slamming into the wooden uprights of a foot-bridge over the channel. The two of us also had to stop a few times to find course-marker buoys.

Once we cleared the first channel, as long as I stayed close to the course markers, it was smooth swimming. I had only one or two run-ins with weeds until the second channel. Our little group stayed together through the second channel as well, which was equally shallow and treacherous and included swimming through a huge-diameter metal pipe (that had another bridge over it).

I found myself actually grabbing onto the weeds a couple times in a desperate attempt to pull myself forward. The first time I did it, the image that leapt to mind was one of standing on the pool deck and yelling at my swim team kids for grabbing onto the lane-lines during backstroke to pull themselves along. (They always think I don't notice that.) Hey, it works! I will have to come clean when I see them again.

When we finally reached Patterson Lake, the sun was well up. I stopped for a moment to free myself from a weed that had wrapped itself around my neck. My watch had us at 2.29 miles. Swimmers would now be on their way back. I got my bearings and started swimming toward the next bright orange buoy, only to have a stand-up paddler blowing a whistle at me and pointing me in the perpendicular direction. Swimmers were being directed to swim "directly into the sun" (what kayakers were telling us). By the time I was able to see the next marker, I had almost burned out my retinas, and spotting anything was now an issue. I almost had a head-on collision with a swimmer going in the opposite direction.

Finally I stopped. The girl next to me stopped. The guy next to me stopped. We had to flag down a kayaker to give us directions. It was then I saw the boat with a guy on the back carrying one of the big orange markers. Apparently the buoys had blown off course. He dropped this one directly in front of me and just like that!.. we were back on course.

When I made it to the beach turn-around, the first thing I saw was the time-clock. It said 1:19:something. Before the race, I told Jim that the 10K would probably take me close to three hours - at best, 2:45. This was very good news indeed. I was half-way through and under my predicted "fast" time. A volunteer handed me my special-needs bag containing nutrition.

The woman I had been swimming with gave me the slip on the beach and got back in the water well before me. I had a 21-oz bottle of SkratchLabs hydration mixed with Carbo-Pro, and I needed those calories. But I also didn't want to just "swim through" the second half of this race, so I drank only 3/4 of my bottle and ran back into the water to chase her. The guy from my original group was right alongside me.

He was the clobbering-type swimmer and his stroke was so strong it was like he had a tractor beam - I kept getting pulled toward him as though I was stuck in a gravitational pull. I had to get out of that influence so I swam hard and fast and pulled out in front.

Swimming the flip-side of Patterson Lake was easier because we were pointing away from the sun, it was a clear day, and the markers were now obvious. When I reached the channel, I realized that I was right behind the woman in our original three-some. I did not want to lull myself into swimming her speed again, so I worked hard in in the channel to get ahead. Instead, I swam off course and ended up in that group again - the three of us with me stuck smack in the middle.

Upon exiting this channel, I finally had enough. I swam hard to wrestle myself free of the group and the weeds.

I got out ahead and finally had the last two miles of this race all to myself. There was a lifeguard on a paddle-board who kept coming around to make sure I stayed on course, but I had no problem whatsoever spotting buoys and enjoying swimming hard to the finish. I stopped a couple times when we got back into Halfmoon lake to check my watch. With about a half-mile to go, my stroke finally started falling apart. Overall, I wasn't really that tired, I was just having trouble getting enough strength to keep a strong underwater pull. But I was alone in the water, and I told myself to enjoy it because it was almost over. I did backstroke just to look up at the clear blue sky, and then I flipped back over and pushed to the finish.

Getting out of the water after swimming for that long was a weird experience. It felt a lot like "the wobble" when you first step off the bike in an Ironman. I almost fell. I was disoriented for a few moments. Embarrassingly, it was caught on video, and since I have no shame to speak of, here it is:

My finish time was 2:39:03. And even though I swam hard, my second half was less than a minute faster than the first half. Awards-wise, I finished second in my age group (33rd overall) but the first female masters swimmer was also in my age group, so my time was actually third in my age group. I have a long way to go because there are some really fast women over 50.

Beer glasses are always the best trophies.

And I'm still loving this swim thing... and ready for the next one.

Just for kicks, here's the GPS plot from my Garmin:

Glastonbury, the Adjective

ELO on the Pyramid Stage

What happens when 200,000 people gather annually in late June on a giant patch of farmland in Somerset, England, for several days of music and a general celebration of the arts?

Miracles.

It's called the Glastonbury Festival.

I never thought I'd see it firsthand. Glastonbury was always that elusive thing in the future I could never get to. Like the perfect house in the perfect location that you build when you retire. Like Shangri-La. Like the pirate ship you find by following the treasure map.

Like a dream.

It existed, but it would never be part of my reality.

Every year, my friend Andy would ask me. It was THAT sort of question: "WHEN are you coming to Glastonbury?" To him, it wasn't a question. It was a necessity. A command. You love music as much as I do? You feel it deep within? It moves you in ways you cannot explain? You must go to Glastonbury. It's a calling. Why?

Miracles.

I knew the Glastonbury Festival was great. I knew it was huge. I knew the performances were special because I had seen them. Just not in person.

I had never WITNESSED them. I didn't "get" it.

I do now.

Glastonbury isn't hype. It's the real thing. It's 200,000 people living in a communal space to experience something intangible - but palpable. It's all around. It's about people coming together. To celebrate. To make the world a better place. It's friendship. It's peace. It's love. It's respect. For your fellow man. For the environment. Everyone knows it. They feel it. 

The musicians feel it too. That's why they play Glastonbury when they get the opportunity. The rain doesn't matter. The mud (oh my, the MUD) doesn't matter. It's a calling. They know they must play there. Why?

Miracles.

Miracles happen everywhere at Glastonbury. Some of them are small. Some of them are show-stopping. You hear them. You see them. Most of all, you FEEL them. And when you leave Glastonbury, you are not the same person you were when you arrived. Your heart will be bigger. Your senses will be more acute. Your friendships will be stronger. And your mind will be wider.

Let's talk about those miracles. 

The first miracle was how we managed to get tickets in the first place. Let's just say it was a miracle. One of those karmic miracles. We never planned on going to Glastonbury this year. But when I found out Turin Brakes were playing, I said the right thing to the right person (that's you, Rob) and somehow, a miracle happened - a pair of tickets - landed in my hands. I will be forever grateful. 

The only bad news was we had a mere two months to sort out logistics.

The second miracle was how little we paid to get to England. After preparing to drop a huge chunk of cash on airfare with only a two-month lead-time, we found tickets to London from Toronto on Air Canada cost about half the price of flying out of Cleveland, Pittsburgh, or Detroit. It was only a five-hour drive for a direct flight to Heathrow.

Now, let's get real - I have no idea how to navigate a festival, and thus, we needed massive help. We needed another miracle.

I took the standing offer to attend this thing with Andy and Caroline (they go every year). In retrospect, I can't imagine doing it any other way, and I will be forever in their debt for their generosity and help in packing, getting there, and getting around. Glastonbury was the greatest experience because of them. They ARE the third miracle.

Our last day - in the rain and mud, with our dear friends,
awaiting Coldplay on the main stage.

In the weeks leading up to our trip, Andy wrote daily, sending us information, links to videos of various bands, packing list advice. He and Caroline purchased food, drink, inexpensive day packs, air mattresses, and pillows for us. Andy even sent photos of the trolley he was building to carry our stuff to the camp site. I couldn't ask for better friends, and I feel happy tears welling up just writing about them.

So, let's talk camping.

It was nothing short of a miracle that we actually found a place on high ground to put our two tents. We had almost given up when we found a spot - a spot almost as far away as you could get from where we would need to be for gigs. But it was high ground - a small miracle.

We had to sleep on a slope - that's when we were taught one of the great festival lessons. Never sleep horizontal on sloped ground because you will roll into each other. Saved yet again by the wisdom of A&C - we never had to make that mistake.

Getting to Glastonbury with A&C via car also yielded some life lessons. I found out exactly what were the three most useful household items: gaffer tape (duct tape), cling film (plastic wrap), and cable ties. The fourth might be bin bags (trash bags).

Scenes from packing and camping:

Packing the car

See what I mean about useful
household items?

The view from our camp site,
watching the sun go down on Wednesday

Our temporary home for five days.

Now, let's talk about the mud...

It rains in England. A LOT. And Glastonbury 2016 was not just a music-fest, it was a mud-fest (officially dubbed "the muddiest Glastonbury ever" by The Guardian). I received my PhD in mud and mud navigation this year at Glastonbury. I now know all the different consistencies of mud. I know how to tell the depth of it. I know how to walk in it so it doesn't splatter all over me or the people around me. I know how not to get stuck in it (although this was the hardest lesson and needed the most practice). And I know that no matter how much mud you have on your wellies (rubber boots), you can always add another layer, especially if you creatively mix it with hay, wood chips, or confetti.

There was no patch of ground free of mud. At times it was more than ankle-deep, and often had a cement-like consistency. If you stop moving for an instant, your boots (and you) will stay in the mud. I got stuck while waiting for Travis to come on stage. But you know what happened? You guessed it - another miracle. People I didn't know all around me helped pull me - and my boots - out of the mud. This happened several times during the festival.

Scenes of mud around the fest:

The main entrance gate was treacherous

Pyramid Stage

The Other Stage

The Park Stage

Selfie with mud 

This was in the Croissant Neuf tent,
where I saw Travis 

On Monday they had to tow cars with giant tractors
because of the parking in mud

The mud created a living hell from the car to the gate to our camp site. I swear it took us two hours to cart our stuff about two miles. By the time we reached the top of the hill where we camped, the trolley wheels were coated with about an inch of mud all around, and the four of us were soaked in sweat from the exertion. It felt like the last mile of a marathon. It was truly a miracle we made it with all our stuff. In fact, the whole journey from the car was littered with deceased trolleys and bags - victims of the mud.

Most of the mud came from rain early in the week, but the weather forecast continued to predict a lot more rain DURING the festival than we actually got. But as luck would have it, the sun came out often and gave us many more miracles in the form of relief from the cold and wet conditions. 

I never appreciated the miracle of a blue sky more than I did at Glastonbury.

This guy was as happy as I was about the blue sky

There were so many things I learned at Glastonbury that I would never have learned. Here are some of them:

It IS possible to put 200K people in one place without violence breaking out.

It IS possible to go without a shower or bath for five days if you have wet wipes, a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and dry shampoo.

I learned new words at Glastonbury. (1) out-trolley, verb, used in a sentence, "Andy was out-trolleyed by the guy who installed mountain-bike wheels on HIS trolley." (2) Glastonbury is an adjective as well as a proper noun. In a sentence: "Brighton has a very Glastonbury vibe" - or, better, when someone offers to help his fellow man: "That's a very Glastonbury attitude."

Now, let's talk about the flags.

Flags are everywhere at Glastonbury. In fact, it seems like there's an unwritten competition going on  - the best flag competition. You can make a flag for ANY reason: country, county, football club, motto, musician (lots of Prince and Bowie flags), family, and my personal favorite of the weekend, the flag that just said "Flag."

Yes, there were GoT flags also.

And finally, let's talk about the performances, since that's the primary reason for the festival.

Every musician's performance at Glastonbury rises to a new level. Each show is no less extraordinary than the one you saw previously. Granted, it seems to reach a crescendo Sunday night (Coldplay blew everyone out of the water, so to speak), but the artists all seem to understand what you're expecting and what you've endured to get there - the traffic, the camping, the rain, and especially the mud.

Travis played the tiny Croissant Neuf Tent
for the venue's 10th anniversary

Fran Healy of Travis

Travis in Croissant Neuf Tent

Muse fireworks

Muse on Pyramid Stage

Hell Stage

KT Tunstall played an amazing set
in a tiny bar at the top of a hill.

Madness played to a monstrous crowd on the main stage 

Beck was the last gig before Coldplay
and tried to whip up an exhausted rain-soaked crowd

ELO played on the main stage Sunday afternoon
but couldn't bring the sun out even with "Mr. Blue Sky" sing-along

I'm going to use Turin Brakes as an example because of their unique and unfortunate time slot Saturday night up against the biggest acts of the weekend. Their tent stage was packed solid. They stood on stage in awe of US - their fans who gave up the opportunity to see one of the biggest acts in the world - Adele - headline the Pyramid Stage (not to mention New Order on The Other Stage). They were acutely aware of the crowd expectations and, wow, did they deliver a stunner!! There was not a single disappointed fan in the audience.

The packed Avalon Stage for Turin Brakes

And, ok, let's talk Coldplay. 

Whether you like him or not, it's undeniable that Chris Martin - who has one of the biggest hearts in showbiz - is on a crusade to save the world. Every single word he uttered and every move he made on the main stage Sunday night illustrated his dedication to giving his audience their greatest memory of the 2016 festival. And it WILL go down in history as one of the most epic.

Chris Martin went it alone on "Everglow"
when his piano was out of tune with Will, Jonny, and Guy

As for my best...

The singular most memorable moment I had at Glastonbury was not in the music or the weather or the logistical miracles. It was a tiny little statement by Andy as we were walking back to the tents one afternoon. 

He said to me, the world is looking everywhere for peace and love and people living together with tolerance and respect for one another - and it ALL happens RIGHT HERE.

 At Glastonbury.