At the Ironman World Championships in Hawaii, it's even further, at least psychologically. This is one triathlon in which wetsuits are not allowed…unless you happen to be 70 years or older. And triathletes are known for feeling very close to their wetsuits. I won't say dependent because all of them can swim in their own skin - but most are far more comfortable swimming in neoprene. But in Kona, neoprene is out. On the other hand, the salt water in Kailua Bay makes balance easier than fresh water. But the chop and swells out there still make smooth swimming a real challenge.

It's Friday Oct 18, one day before Ironman. I've been in Kona since Monday and have swum most of the course once or twice each day. At 7:30 each morning I swim to a buoy that's 7-tenths of a mile from the start, or 1.4 miles round trip, a mile less than the race. At that hour there are hundreds of other swimmers out there. The course is quite congested in the first 500 to 800 meters and the crowd grows sparser as I venture farther out. I usually swim again just before sunset and am usually alone beyond 200 meters from the pier.

For me these swims are the best way of understanding exactly what the experience of doing the actual race might be like. I use the insights gained to develop suggestions for how to make the race both pleasant and successful for anyone doing it. My experience this week has been an eye-opener.

My starting point for providing guidance is to understand how most people swim the race instinctively. I gather that evidence in several ways. One is to watch from the pier as people head out on the course. Virtually no one is smooth and relaxed. There's considerable aggressiveness - trying to bull through the waves; there's plenty of flailing - loss of control in the chop and swells. And what I see generally is rough movement. I can also gather evidence from postcard photos taken at various points in previous races. One postcard I bought shows a group of eight swimmers. Every one had his or her head up at the moment the picture was taken - eight yellow Ironman caps high above the surface and their Sharpie-marked race numbers easy to read. Number 1827, I caught you wasting energy! You too, Number 1014! Another postcard shows a larger group. Once again virtually every yellow cap - dozens and dozens of them - are completely visible above the surface, and the water looks just as it does when a school of bluefish are churning it up in a feeding frenzy.

It's actually not that surprising, as these pictures were taken within 200 meters of the start, at a place where thousands of swimmers were vying for position in the pack and each individual had only a small space in which to swim and each was probably somewhat worried about being pushed toward the back of the pack. Still, if I were in that group, I'd have been swimming rather differently. And this week, I've been coaching as many swimmers as possible to spend the few days prior to the race "rehearsing" a different stroke pattern.

Each morning at 7 I've given free mini-clinics and demonstrations in the calm little bay in front of the King K Hotel, just across the pier from the race course, after which I encourage the athletes who attend to practice what we worked on, while out on the course. Then I spend several hours working the two pools at the Endless Pools booth, doing much of the same.

Because this is race week, I'm not teaching drills. Instead, I'm taking the stroke they have and giving them tips on subtle changes that can save energy - and probably increase speed - on race day. I'm trying to do so in a way that will let them integrate easily into the movement patterns they've already imprinted, and to avoid doing anything that will have them worrying - while out on the course - "do I have it right?" This coaching is all built around experimenting with small changes that will let them capture an easily-felt sensation, then immediately try it out in the crowds and chop on the course to see if it makes a material difference.

At the same time, I'm suggesting ways of developing "psychological weapons" for controlling the annoyance, frustration and anxiety likely to occur on the course. If you don't feel in control mentally, you're sure to lose control physically.

While at the Endless Pools booth, I hear loudspeakers broadcasting advice from a series of athletes and coaches who appear periodically on a stage at the Athlete's Village. At one point, there was an ironic juxtaposition. I was showing one swimmer in the pool, how to slow his armstroke down without losing ground in the current. As he did so, he became strikingly more smooth and economical. He was encouraged by how much more relaxing it was to swim that way. At the same moment, from the loudspeakers, I could hear a well-known multisports coach who also conducts swim clinics advising athletes to practice sprints in the final days before the race to "tune up their strokes to swim fast in the race." He also suggested that they stroke particularly quickly in the first 100 strokes to gain better position in the pack.

With all due respect, my advice has been 180 degrees different. As Jason Grootman, a triathlon coach from Massachusetts wrote to me in an email, "People tend to think of a triathlon as three events, but it's not. It's ONE event in which you practice three forms of locomotion. If you were running a 3-hour marathon, you'd never dream of going hard in the first few minutes to 'establish position in the pack.' You'd go as easily as you possibly could to find your own best pace and most economical form, knowing you'll easily pass those who go out too fast, once the pack settles down for the long run. The swim leg of a triathlon should be done exactly the same way." Ironman legend, and six-time Hawaii champion Mark Allen seems to feel the same way. From the same stage, 30 minutes earlier, he had advised that most racers should swim the first 400 meters "slower than you can possibly imagine."

To Mark's counsel to start slowly, I've added the following tips.

1. Pierce the water. The most beneficial thing you can do is to think of slipping through the smallest possible space in the water. If you think of the guy in the TI logo, do whatever you can to maintain a shape something like that. A variety of forces - both internal (lifting your head or swinging your arms) and external (chop and swells) will be working constantly to divert you from that slippery line. Be aware of them and do whatever is necessary to counter those forces and protect your long, tight line through the water. Then move that clean, sleek bodyline along the course as if following a laser beam through the water.
   
   
2. Hold the water. With each stroke, use your arm to lengthen the line I described above, then patiently and deliberately wrap your hand and arm around as much water as you can and establish a firm hold on it before stroking back. One way to envision it is to trap as much water inside your arm as the volume of one of those popular Stability (or Swiss) balls used for exercise. Establish that hold as far in front as you can. Once you've done that, shift your focus to your other arm. Don't concentrate on pushing the water back to your feet. The only part of your stroke worth paying attention to is the part in front of your shoulders. Once you establish your hold, let the rest of the stroke take care of itself, while you keep your focus in front of your nose.
   
   
3. Don't look for buoys. Remember the postcard pictures I described? While you're swimming in whatever group you happen to be with, everyone else is going to be looking to see where they're going. As long as they're going to be so kind as to keep you on course, just keep your head down, breathe normally (bilateral is best) and so long as you still have lots of swimmers on both sides, you're still heading where you should. And when you do look (every 30 to 50 strokes should be sufficient), just take a quick, seamless "snapshot" of the caps and arms ahead of you. Don't look for buoys until you're within 50 yards of the turnaround or the finish. If you're really curious about where you're going figure out your direction by checking the position of the shoreline (and hotels and mountains) on one side and the masts of the pleasure craft on the other side, remembering at what point between them the buoy line should be.
   
   
4. Sneak along the course. I've been playing a pleasurable game each morning. As long as there are other swimmers around me, I take note of how much they're churning up the water…which is always A LOT. I tune into how splashy and noisy they are, how much turbulence their pulls and kicks create, how fast their arms are moving. And I give myself the challenge of staying with them with far less noise, or churn and while moving my arms as slowly (and as long) as possible. The sense of advantage I get, the sense of having a secret edge, makes the swim much more interesting than if I was swimming solo. So while out in the pack, focus on being the "sneakiest, stealthiest" swimmer in the group you're with.

Any of these focal points will make the race far more enjoyable and successful. Not only will they remind you of the most economical way to complete the course, but the mindful, concentrated state they create will block out all the potential sources of anxiety or distraction - the distance of the swim, the unfamiliarity of open water, the crowd of swimmers, the annoying chop - and give you a sense of an island of calm in the middle of chaos.

So long as you FEEL in control, you'll BE in control.

Find more articles like this at www.totalimmersion.net. New articles are published each week on Wednesday.

More from Terry in Kona:

• Total Immersion: It's Not Just Drills
  

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