In the spirit of the immensely popular Budweiser and Bud Light “Real Men of Genius” commercials, celebrating the unsung heroes of America, I would like to pay tribute to a few fearless souls who have gone unnoticed for too long. Let me explain…
As a lifeguard for Boca Raton Ocean Rescue, I have the pleasure of working the FAU Wellness Triathlon each year. One might think that people who sign up for a triathlon would be respectable swimmers; after all, the course begins with a quarter mile ocean swim. But that is not the case. In fact, many novice and non-swimmers register for the event every year, a phenomenon I find astounding.
Last year was especially catastrophic; with a 4-foot 5-inch chop to complicate the situation, we made about 30-40 rescues. Needless to say, I was gladdened this Sunday morning with the sight of an undisturbed ocean, like a fresh batch of aquamarine Jell-O. There would be fewer casualties this time.
At about 7 a.m., I joined a handful of other lifeguards, grabbed a rescue board and we all began a leisurely paddle toward the designated starting area. It was a beautiful morning; the sky was clear, the water, like crystal. As I paddled, I took in the sight on the shoreline and knew we’d be in for a little excitement: hundreds of participants congregated on the beach across from us. I chuckled at the sight of some of them in full wetsuits-to keep at bay, I suppose, the icy 77-degree water and equally frigid ocean breeze.
The quarter-mile course (which translates to approximately 400 yards) is denoted by two very large orange buoys. Participants begin on the shoreline, swim out about 50 yards (due East) and make a left-shoulder turn around the first buoy. They then swim parallel to shore about 300 yards, make another left-shoulder turn around the second buoy and swim straight in to shore.
The course is a roughly outlined box shape, though for some it may as well be a coffin.
Heats are divided into age groups – each designated by a different color swim cap. After a somewhat muffled rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, the sound of the horn finally signaled the start of the race and the first wave of swimmers – the yellow caps – tore through the water towards us.
Positioned just past the first buoy, I spotted a distressed swimmer almost immediately and paddled to his aid. He gripped the rescue board gratefully, panting and gasping loudly as he managed to assure me that he “just needed to catch his breath.” He had completed just over one-eighth of the course.
Each consecutive wave was basically déjíæ vu: I intercepted a few wayward swimmers who seemed hell-bent on reaching the Bermuda Triangle, and lent a hand to others who just needed “a quick rest.”
I have to admit that I viewed the entire spectacle as somewhat of a tragic comedy. I figured showing up for a triathlon as a non-swimmer was like pulling up to the Tour de France with training wheels: you’re going to get laughed at.
But I’ve since stopped laughing. In fact, the hand that once covered my mouth in a vain attempt to suppress chuckles, I now raise in a salute.
These non-aquatic triathlon participants share two essential traits with the “real men of genius,” so often honored on radio and television: zeal and bravery. Nothing can hold back “Mr. Pro Sports Heckling Guy,” “Mr. Oversized Fanny Pack Wearer,” “Mr. Excited About Storms Weatherman,” and certainly not “Mr. Rolling Cooler Cooler Roller.” They cannot, will not, be subdued.
Nothing short of such commendable qualities could have fueled the journey of the non-aquatic triathlon swimmer. They awake in pre-dawn darkness to squeeze into the staple of triathlon gear: the oh-so-unforgiving spandex unitard. But, more importantly, these hitherto disregarded citizens really set the bar for bravery in the face of imminent peril. It’s about time someone made a tribute to these unsung heroes.
Much unlike a non-runner in a road race who faces little more than a stiff dose of humiliation, a non-swimmer in an ocean swim (by virtue of the fact that the event takes place in the water, in which humans are not inherently equipped to survive) such a participant faces nothing short of death upon crossing the frothy start line.
Hurtling into the water with enthusiasm and verve that is nothing short of inspiring, undeterred by any lack of swimming ability, they look terror in the eyes and shout “Booyah!”
You have never feared the deep end of the pool…as a child, you scoffed at mom’s proposition of water wings…you have proven that doggy-paddle is not just for K-9s. Arms and legs flailing, you splash with all the vigor of an epileptic killer whale. With not a swim lesson in your past, you charge forward undaunted, with a colorful swim cap, a unitard, and a dream. And I salute you.
View photos from the event.
