Guest post: Victoria swims Lake Taupō

On Saturday 22 January 2022, my friend Victora Pinarello joined the 40.2 Club by swimming the length of Lake Taupō. It was a privilege to be part of her support crew for this swim. I had huge respect for Victoria’s background in Ironman and other extreme endurance sports, and her attitude to training for this swim during 2021, demonstrating an incredible work ethic, was humbling. Then, the determination Victoria showed during a long swim that had some challenging moments gave me a new perspective on what ‘endurance’ can mean.  Therefore, it’s an especial pleasure to host her swim report on Goggles at Dawn.

*******

Total time: 18 hours 26 minutes 18 seconds; expected time 15/16 hours
Total distance: 40.9km; expected distance 40.2km

* 24 hours awake * 25 SiS gels * 4 bottles of electrolyte * 3 layers of sunscreen * 1 driver – Emma * 2 supporters on the boat – Alicia and Corrina * 1 Phil * 1 Hana

I'm told of the tradition to write a blog post-swim, to impart my wisdom and share my thoughts on such an epic journey. So, it began some time ago when, in a post-Ironman haze, I decided I was in fact in love with swimming. Then, a mere 12 months ago I decided that swimming an ultra-marathon was a good idea. The build-up to the actual day was much like any other endurance event: it took lots of training, many early mornings, double swim days and a few burgers and beers, and a few too many tears. I have two takeaways from this journey and the first is the people I have met and the support I received along the way. Not just on the day itself, but the community of ocean swimmers that have truly become my family. The second takeaway will come later…

Turns out I am somewhat of an oddity − of no surprise to the people that know me. While most swimmers are motivated by food, and despite feeding during training and having a smorgasbord to choose from on the day − it turns out I am not. About two and a half hours into the swim I started to feel a little stitch coming on so decided to stick with gels and electrolytes only. That’s right, no solid food for 18 hours. In saying that, this did not affect my energy levels. 

The first ¾ of the swim was fantastic. I imagined I was following the black line on the bottom of the pool and thought I would follow it all the way to the end. As the hours ticked by, I started feeling a slight twinge in my shoulder, and slowly but surely began slipping water. My speed and comfort were dropping. I think back to what I remember the most, and it was the last 10km. It was brutal. Coming into Acacia Bay was a battle: the top inch of water was warm but what lay underneath it was icy cold. There was a current running to the left and if I didn’t move fast enough, I was told I would never make it in.

As darkness fell, the wind and chop picked up, I felt like I was being bashed around like a shoe in a washing machine. Every breath came with a mouthful of water, which was probably a good thing as it turns out I didn’t drink nearly enough. Time lost all meaning: my orientation was all off; I blacked out about five times; I swam into a log and then into the IRB at one point; I completely forgot to look for the black line. During my post-swim debriefs, it turns out it was extremely difficult for everyone to see, not just me: the lights of Taupō reflecting off the lake made it impossible to see exactly where the yacht club was, and even the distance we were from shore.

The words that come to mind are simply … ‘What was I thinking?!’

I have no fear or reservations about saying that at some time between the 15- and 18-hour marks – after what felt like an eternity of swimming – I made the conscious decision that it was time to call it. After all, if I wasn’t going to make it, I wanted to be the one to make that call. People ask me if I would have regretted getting out after having come so far, but my truth is that it was never about just this one day, and if I was choosing to get out I was making the right choice and right decision for me at that time – and you cannot regret that. I remember a lot of swearing but it turns out none of it came out of my mouth and it was all in my head. Corrina tells me that I very consciously and politely said that if I wasn’t making any progress then it was time to stop wasting everyone’s time and it was time to get out. I am not entirely sure what happened after that, I just know that I started “swimming” again. It was some kind of hybrid form of freestyle arms with a breaststroke kick – my ankles just couldn’t handle any more freestyle kicking. At least this way, I felt like I was making some forward motion. 

The relief of looking down and seeing the bottom of the lake is something I can’t put into words. At the
end of a very long day, I made it. I felt broken, sleep-deprived and most of all, traumatized, as I’ve remained for the last two weeks. I was definitely out there for a long time … not a good time.

Finished!

The track

I had the most amazing team of people beside me and, just like having a baby, it really does take a village. There were several moving parts during the swim itself. Getting to Taupō, the crew pick-ups, getting to the start of the swim, and driving back home again were all taken care of by the wonderful Emma. We couldn’t have gotten there without the amazing Justine who let us borrow her car. Corrina is my rock. She has knowledge of ultra-swims herself and had also crewed a few swims, so she answered all my crazy questions, sent me a draft logistics plan, managed the troops, and even after some 24 hours awake still had the energy to wash all my bottles before bed. Alicia, mia care amica, came out with me on so many swims I can’t count. Without words, she makes me smile and gives me energy. In the car on the way back she couldn’t figure out why her arms and muscles were so sore: she had forgotten that while she was supporting me in the IRB, every time I looked, she was doing a Mexican wave or showing me her Nihon Eiho arms (worth googling if you want to try an old skool Japanese swimming technique).

The crew at Little Waihi

There are so many people that got me here but special mention to Phil and Hana, Early Morning Risers, The Washing Machines, The Lost Buoys, HarMad, MFS, Gráinne, Eliza, Sarah, Vicky T, Omar, Adriana, and of course, most of all, Rocco: nothing is possible without your love, support, and freedom you give me to express my craziness.

Post-Swim Party

My second takeaway from this journey, which I am sure many others will share, is this: the mental challenge is much harder than the physical one. I think Babe Ruth (yes, the baseball player) said it best; 'Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game'