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Blog entries about: Sea Swim |
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How do relays work?
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We've been immersed in the background to channel swimming so much over the last year that the swimmers often forget that our supporters are not sure of the mechanics of a relay crossing. So here is the low down.
In team breac there are 5 swimmers. The sequence in which the swimmers swim is decided before the team get onto the boat and is then given to the observer from the Channel Swimming Association. This sequence must be maintained throughout the swim.
Each swimmer swims for an hour and with 5 mins to go the changeover window commences. The next swimmer gets into the water & starts from a position behind the previous swimmer and then swims past them. At that point the previous swimmer can return to the boat.
If a swimmer can't complete their hour or touch the boat during their swim the relay team is disqualified.
Relay swimmers generally don't put on any lanolin oil or other insulation as they can handle the water temperature for an hour before changing over. Relay swimmers generally don't feed in the water as they have the chance to do that outside their swim rotation.
Swims generalls start from a beach near Dover called Samphire Hoe and aim for a point on the French coast called Cap Gris-Nez. The route generally takes an S-shape curve as the pilot aims to have the swimmer working accross the tides. As a result the distance travelled can be several miles higher than the “as the crow flies” distance which is 22 miles.
The first swimmer enters the water from the boat and then swims to the beach and clears the water. At that point the time clock starts and the swimmer enters the water again on the first leg of the relay to France. The last swimmer similarly must clear the water at the French side.
That's all I can think of ....so we'll put into practice tonight.
Ian.
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Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
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We met Tim (He whose rib I previously defiled) and went out night swimming. A 9pm start we went off to the Sutton end of Dublin bay to jump into the sea of a spot of night swimming. Not the “drunk-fun-naked-night-swimming-of-youth”, more the “terrifying-middle-of-the-irish-sea-whatthefuckwasthat-night-swimming-of-madness.”
The team was in high spirits, apart from savagely cold feet from a bout of welly wearing. This was agreed by all to be a mistake. If it is a sunny day when we get to go (or more properly not a rainy night), runners will be in order.
All five of the team got in before me and looked confident, strong swimming by everyone. Those fuckers. There is really nothing like a strong display from your teammates to put it up to you. I stripped off 5 minutes before I was due to get in and even though it is a cliché, it really is warmer in the water than on the boat. I froze standing there in my tightie-greenies.
I hopped in the water, and started to swim. If any of you are planning this, here are Con’s-toptips© for a happy night swim:
Make sure no light is being shone at you. Tim was wearing a LED light and when he looked to see where I was (so he didn’t run me over, which I didn’t begrudge him for), I couldn’t see at all.
Shift your brain to neutral, when you start to think the demons come and they aren’t friendly. They have voices. They say things like “What the fuck was that?” and “Oh Christ, I hope nothing lives in the sea” and “Please don’t let me die”. Demons aren’t rational. I found one demon approximately once every ten minutes. Strong repetitive movement, an eye on the boat, and a mental calming exercise was enough to quieten them. They come back though, they are bastards like that.
Have a sign with your support person. I found the light in my eyes so arresting I am going to ask them to blind me with 5 minutes to go, and then 1 so I can slow down and let my relay partner pass.
You don’t have to like it, you just have to do it. If you do 30 minutes, an hour won’t be an issue.
Alcohol is not a banned substance in long distance swimming. Just saying, that’s all.
I got back into the boat after my 30 minutes and we went for a tourist trip down the Liffey. Being on a small craft in Dublin bay at night is spectacular, as is the trip past Poolbeg and down the Liffey. I really recommend anyone who has a chance to do this, to do it. Bring a camera, unlike this moron.
The night swimming really worked as a team building exercise. Everyone completed the task with good grace, there was good, friendly banter and every bit of training we do makes the channel look more achievable.
Nothing other than weather, or fiendish bad luck (external, not internal demons) will stop us now.
I’m officially stoked.
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I’ll have an Indian
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Those of you with a nervous disposition may want to avoid this one. In the year or so of swimming and general exercising, I have also discovered my love of Indian food. I used to never like it; I had a real Irish palette. Give me the blandest thing on the menu. Yet now, even though my cholesterol is a whopping 5.75, I can’t get enough of it. I haven’t graduated to Vindaloo or Phal or any of that nonsense. Food should be tasty, it shouldn’t hurt.
3 times I have fallen foul of an Indian with exercise the next day. The first time was in Spain at the beginning of the summer. I stepped out with Mrs.M for an Indian (which was gorgeous), and drank 10 gin and tonics. Just the preparation for a midday 10km road race the next day. After 4kms in the 35 degree heat, the stomach cramps were getting the better of me, after 6km I couldn’t take it any longer and I had to duck into a local English bar to avail of their facilities. “You’re bit off course mate,” one of the midday alcoholics remarked. “Not really,” I replied. Still finished, even if it was a lousy 53 mins.
The second time was a month or so ago in Wexford, out for a run in the country. About three klicks in, I felt the familiar cramping. No facilities at hand, so off into a local field for the old ditch and dock leaf treatment. No harm, some foul. I noticed it was gun club reserved land, and felt some satisfaction that one of them might step in it. I finished out my run, in a fairly reasonable time.
The third time was on Saturday. I treated myself to a mild chicken Balti on Friday night with a couple of beers and a couple of glasses of red. I believe it is what all the athletes take before a big training exercise. I met my team (including Ciara, our newly appointed support person), and Tim our Rib driver. For those of you not out on a Rib before, they have no ‘facilities’. Off we went out to the Kish lighthouse (about 8 miles out), into metre high swells. This was interesting in a couple of ways. None of us had swum in a swell like it before, and I was dying to get rid of the Indian. Still, I was first in. It was a nice steady swim, the first five minutes or so are a little unnerving, but then you get into a rhythm and you don’t really notice the swell until you come off the top of a high wave and get a particularly nasty slap in the face from the sea. Not too cold at all.
I got out, Stephen got in. I even held on to my guts for the next swimmer too, Catherine. Then it all went south. Tim, a realist, knew the score. He’d been in plenty of sea races and shat off more than one boat in his time. “If it gets really bad, stick your ass out beside the engine,” he said. “Try to get it all outside the boat, it’s easier to wash down,” he continued.
Colm was the next swimmer in, at this stage I had been through at least two of those moments when you are clenching and it can go one of two ways; either out or that weird release you get when it feels like gas is travelling back up your system. That can’t be good for you. Anyway, Colm was swimming right behind the boat. I was standing there willing him to move. Finally, he strayed to one side of the boat and it was ass-out, all systems go. Quick, easy, no mess for Tim. I repeated the manoeuvre when MAH was in the water, I hope it didn’t put her off her stroke. I had more spectators the second time, I don’t think they were overly impressed. Still, needs must, they’d have been less impressed if I hadn’t.
Got back in for a second swim, felt good, tidy. Seas had calmed way down. Didn’t get cold at all, could have happily gone for a third swim. Roll on the 25th, at least the boat will have a toilet. No sea sickness to report.
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Big Martin and the nightswimming crew.
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There was a bit of humming and hawing about the validity of the exercise but all in all it was pretty enjoyable in a number of ways.
1. It turns out it was the first time Foxy has nightswum sober and with togs.
2. Conor was stung 3 times by the same jellyfish (which of course he did not see - but was no doubt attracted to him by the mission impossible style "nightstick" that was attached to the back of his goggles).
3. The comedy sound of a group of girls that you cant see chattering and giggling out in the see…some things never change.
On a serious note, the only thing that you can see when you are swimming at night are the bubbles leaving your mouth and around your hand (and your hand obviously), you could be in 3 feet of water or 300 feet and you are none the wiser, there could be eels or jelly fish right beside you and you are blind to it. In that sense you can just focus on the swimming - you cant worry about things that you cant see. Jellyfish generally are fairly disturbing creatures and if you hit a batch of them you really want to alter your course…but at night…what can you do?
I'm starting a study that will monitor build up of gas in the human body after swimming. It seems clear that after swimming the body is compelled to expel air at a higher rate than when swimming has not occurred. Perhaps it has something to do with the way one breathes whilst swimming?
Comments welcome.
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More Swimming. Surprise.
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I was in the sea again on the 17th. Cold, again. However, it was far better than 3 weeks ago. Didn't get the savage muscle constriction, put my head under and banged out a few strokes.
Roll on the next swim. Feeling good about it all.
On a side note: I'm am off to Spain in about six weeks, there is a 50 metre outside pool close to where I am going. Expected water temp in the pool is 16 degrees. Looks good for some serious training.
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