Beating the Odds with Swim Across America - Long Beach

June 1, 2012

Janel Jorgensen, President of Swim Across America, contacts me about a new event being organized in Long Beach, Calif. This inaugural event will raise funds for the Todd Cancer Institute of Long Beach Memorial Hospital, supporting both lung cancer research and patient care programs.

I'm told Swim Across America - Long Beach will be directed by Steve Munatones, the guy who wrote the book on open water swimming, literally. He will stage the event in the Marine Stadium, a tidal fed basin originally dredged to serve as the rowing venue for the 1932 Olympics.

A variety of distances will be offered, up to 10K, on a course built to emulate the open water course of the 2012 London Olympics. Also, it will happen at the culmination of the 2012 Global Open Water Swimming Conference. All these factors combined sound very promising to me. I tell Janel I’m in and become the first swimmer to register.

In the weeks leading up to the event, I rally my team of generous supporters and raise nearly $2,400 for Todd Cancer Center. As I thank each donor, many of them thank me back for giving them the opportunity to help. How refreshing is that? Nearly all, I notice, have had unfortunate connections to cancer. Cancer survivors, those actively in the fight and those mourning the loss of loved ones all know firsthand the pain that cancer causes. They want to pony up and I am grateful for their support.

September 22, 2012

Just hours after taking off from Tucson, I am boarding the Queen Mary, the retired ocean liner moored in the busy port city of Long Beach. It’s the site of the 2012 Global Open Water Swimming Conference and Marathon Swimming Hall of Fame Dinner. Gazing out the round portals at the sea life, I inhale the marine air and marvel at the stark contrast between this scene and the dry desert I’ve just escaped.

As I find my way to the Grand Salon for the dinner, I first hear, then see, Martin Strel. With his thick, Slovenian accent, he is immersed in conversation with an admirer. I am not nearly as star struck as I thought I’d be in the presence of the Big River Man. Having watched the documentary of his unprecedented swim 3,375 miles down the Amazon River, I’d been impressed by his endurance, his audacity to take on the murky waters and, most of all, the fact that he drank a bottle of wine every night of his journey.

Which reminds me, it’s cocktail hour and I’m looking forward to a glass of wine myself. Knowing not a soul in the room, I approach a table toward the back where a woman is sitting by herself. “Are these seats taken?” I venture. “No, please sit,” returns the kind voice of Guila Muir, my newest friend in the world of open water swimming.

Like me, Guila is not a marathon swimmer. She’s a Seattle-based business consultant who also leads small group swim excursions year round in the Puget Sound through her sideline business, Say Yes! To Life Swims. Guila is looking forward to her vegetarian meal. I, on the other hand, having ordered rubber chicken, am looking around for a waiter who might serve me a nice glass of wine. To my astonishment, there are plenty of waiters but no wine in sight. Sensing my growing desperation, Guila instructs me on the whereabouts of the Observation Bar. Two decks up, I find the art deco lounge and get my wine-to-go in a plastic cup.

Back in the Grand Salon, we’re soon joined by another tablemate, Mariusz Wirga, M.D. I recognize his name instantly as the leading fundraiser for tomorrow’s swim. His team, Beat the Odds, is also in first place. Not that I’ve been checking the website every day. He also happens to be the Medical Director of the Psychosocial Oncology Program at the Todd Cancer Institute, the event’s beneficiary.

During Dr. Wirga’s eight-minute presentation, barely audible over the din of dinner, he speaks passionately about the powerful role of hope in healing. As he speaks these words, I’m reminded of the wonderful teachings of Dr. Bernie Siegel, author of Love, Medicine and Miracles. Dr. Wirga speaks with honest concern about his patients at the Todd Cancer Institute. Whenever he has a patient who learns they have 50-50 odds to beat their cancer, he explains to them that statistics are just statistics and every person has their own fighting chance to beat the odds. Hope also plays a role in cancer research, as scientists around the globe test new theories and treatments. I realize that this doctor’s caring heart sets him apart. His inspiring words stand in contrast to the numerous speeches delivered by hall of fame inductees about their various personal accomplishments. What Mariusz is accomplishing is not for him but for others. Immediately afterwards, he excuses himself so he can get up early and swim 800 meters to fight cancer with his kids.

Late to join our table is hard-at-work John Muenzer, vice president of Open Water Source, the company hosting the Global Open Water Swimming Conference. He talks of bigger better conferences to come now that sponsors are taking note of the growth of the sport and professional event planners will likely take over.

According to OpenWaterPedia.com, John conquered Lake Eerie from Point Pelee, Canada to Cedar Point, Michigan, a distance of 34 miles in 24 hours 10 minutes, in 1983. After taking an extended “break” to raise seven children (!) he conquered the English Channel in 13 hours 12 minutes in 2009.

Somewhere in this darkened room also sits the legendary Diana Nyad, barely recovered from her bout with jellyfish on her most recent thwarted attempt to reach the Florida Keys from Cuba, and adventure swimmer Jamie Patrick, who attempted a 360 swim of Lake Tahoe this summer but was pulled after 12 hours and 24 miles when inclement weather threatened to swamp his safety crew. I never lay eyes on either of them, much to my disappointment, but I trust they are eating like horses. As much as I admire these swim heroes, I know I’ll never swim a marathon unless my ship sinks and I’m forced to do it. Otherwise, I lack both the will and the guts. Still, I’m happy to be in Long Beach to help Swim Across America raise money to fight cancer. That’s a marathon in itself that’s lasted 25 years and it isn’t over yet.

Mariusz, Guila and John are all long gone when I disembark the Queen Mary. I’m anxious to find my hotel, 20 minutes away by car. When I do, I discover it’s the site of two rowdy wedding receptions and a night club advertising the return of Sammy Hagar, or his look alike, tonight. In spite of all the noise, I fall asleep easily watching the Oregon Ducks shut out the Arizona Wildcats on ESPN.

September 23, 2012

After a leisurely breakfast overlooking a small marina and several oil derricks, I head to the Marine Stadium, about a half mile away, and check in for the swim. It’s a beautiful SoCal morning, sunny and warm. There’s a good crowd on hand including more than 400 swimmers plus volunteers, parents, lifeguards and spectators, including marathon swimmers from 19 different countries, none of whom are swimming today, to my knowledge. Event directors reportedly had to turn away more than 800 late registrants due to permit constraints.

I stop by the Why I Swim banner and pay tribute to a few of the people I’m swimming for this year. I have to come back twice to add more names. Cancer gives us far too many reasons to keep making waves. I notice lots of kids have signed the banner with the acronym NEGU. The table volunteer explains that it stands for “Never ever give up.” A local kids’ swim team adopted the slogan after a young teammate battled cancer.
Kids and cancer are two words that shouldn’t exist in the same sentence, but they do. My nephew, Andrew, battled leukemia from age 5-8. He won his life back. He’s one of the lucky ones. The odds get better every year, thanks in large part to the research funded by Swim Across America.

With these thoughts I work my way through the crowd toward the small beach. The first swim is about to get underway and the beach is full of little tykes getting ready for their first 100 meter open water swim. Excitement is rampant.

With a splash, they’re off, returning minutes later through the shoot, wet and panting, receiving high fives from Janel Jorgensen, a former Olympian. The faces on the first finishers look proud. Tears spring from the eyes of some of the late arrivals. Janel cheers them up. The competitors are too young to understand that their efforts today are not about winning or losing, they’re rather about giving people hope.

A quick warm up during the 800-meter swim proves that the water is a perfect temperature at about 68 degrees. There isn’t a ripple on the surface and swimming in salt water feels great, as always. Plus, as the announcer explains, there aren’t any large animals in gray suits to worry about, always a happy thought.

At 10 a.m., the 5K swimmers gather on the beach in the same group as the 1.5K and 10K swimmers. After a beach start, we’re told we’ll all swim left, clockwise, shouldering a series of yellow buoys on our right. I would do three loops of the rectangular course, finishing my 5K in between two floating platforms, one hour and 22 minutes later.

Salty and a little sore, I drive back to the hotel, shower off all the brown silt, check out of my hotel and return to the venue dry and refreshed. 10K swimmers are still slugging it out in the water and I am deeply relieved not to be one of them.

Upon returning, I visit several of the exhibit tables lining the shore and am thrilled to meet members of Dr. Wirga’s research team from Todd Cancer Institute. They all look so young and full of hope. “You guys are doing it,” I tell them. “You’re the reason we’re here. Keep up the good work.”

Janel announces that the inaugural Swim Across America - Long Beach event has raised more than $40,000. Donations are still coming in. Chalk up another successful event for Swim Across America, an organization that’s raised more than $40 million to date. As she recognizes top finishers and fundraisers I’m happy to see my friend Mariusz and his team recognized.

“Next year, June, you can join my team,” he says. He hands me a Beat the Odds team t-shirt in a gesture of friendship. I graciously accept it, knowing full well that June’s Swim for the Cure will be back. Only next year, we’re going to up the ante with more swimmers and more donors. With your help, we’re going to raise more dollars for Swim Across America and the fight to conquer cancer. I can’t wait.

Until then, my friends, stay strong, swim long and beat the odds.