Dam to Dam Swim- 28+ Miles Crossing Lake Wiley


Watching the sun set in between strokes at mile 24.

If I had known how hard it was going to be, I’m not sure I ever would have started.   But as Mark Twain said: “To succeed in life you need two things: ignorance and confidence.” I possessed them both in possibly unhealthy levels as the idea for this swim percolated in my brain.   It really only became an idea at the moment the words describing it tumbled out of my mouth while talking with Doug over beers on my back porch.  But before I could even inhale after saying the words, Doug had agreed to do it.  We were doing it.  We were going to be the first people to try to swim the 28 miles from the Mountain Island Dam to the Lake Wiley Dam on the Catawba River.

Our primary concern initially wasn’t even the training. We knew nothing about river at the outset, including how long it actually was.  Not many people have ever swam that far.  Fewer have organized a swim that far and now we had to do both. We had lots of basic questions like: How far is it?  Is the water safe? Is there a current? Is it legal to swim?  Where are the access points? Are there dangerous animals to be concerned about (they recently found an alligator in the Catawba, although they aren’t native and a bear was seen swimming in it earlier this year). What is the water temperature at various times of the year?  When is sunrise and sunset? Do they release from the dams all the time or sometimes?  What is the release schedule? How much boat traffic is there? And on and on.  We knew pretty much nothing.


The Mountain Island Dam a few hours after our start on race day.  Mile 0.

I came up with the first official map showing the distance at 27.58 miles.  To answer our questions, we explored every possible avenue to find information which included reaching out to various lake organizations and Duke Power who runs the dams. We scoured websites, charts and tables with information about the river. We stopped to talk to fishmen on the water. Doug and I did two practice swims of about 7 miles each in the river in preparation, one simulating a pre-dawn race start from the first dam.  I kayaked another 7-mile stretch.   We had seen most of the river by race day.  Despite all our efforts though, for some questions we just had to accept we weren’t going to get a complete answer.  We just had to piece our answers together as best we could through the bits of information we could find and anecdotal evidence, but we felt like we knew enough and at a certain point enough was going to have to do.

We picked Sept 29th as our race date, trying to balance wanting the cooler water temperatures of late September with the shrinking hours of daylight as Fall approached.  We’d have exactly 12 hours of sunlight on the date we picked.  We had a brief scare as Hurricane Florence rolled through 2 weeks earlier, but by race day any remnants as it related to our swim were gone.

swim start

Moments before the start.

On race day, at 6:15AM, an hour before sunrise, Doug and I slipped into the water with 3 lighted kayaks and began our swim under the Mountain Island dam.  The practice swim we had done here a month earlier simulating a race start in the dark proved invaluable as there were hardly any unknowns at that moment and I felt calm and comfortable in a familiar setting which a month earlier had been completely foreign and honestly a little freaky.

Longtime friend and first-time distance kayaker Dave was piloting my kayak for the first 13.5 miles which was dressed in Halloween lights and loaded with lots of fuel, maps and a tracking device.  I aimed to take in around 400 calories an hour, roughly rotating between a sports drink, Ensure and gels. I also had a few baked potatoes which never even made it out of the cooler.


Dave early in the swim.  I think I’m yelling at him to put his phone down and keep a good line 🙂

After about 3 hours, the sun was up and we passed under the I85 bridge in Belmont, just short of 7 miles in.  During one of our practice swims we had taken a break under this bridge and found a bowling pin resting at the bottom.  How did it get there?  We’ll never know, but that is of no concern right now. The weather was good. I felt good.  We were on schedule.

At mile 13.5, nearly halfway and exactly 6 hours in, Ben replaced Dave in the kayak.  The lake was getting wider and boat traffic was picking up. Underwater you could hear the high pitched “rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” of boats anywhere in your area which kept me on edge because it felt like they were right on top of me.   They also generated a good deal of wake which made for some disorienting swimming.  At mile 15 the first and thankfully only significant negative event happened when we took a wrong turn that added about hour of swimming.  I didn’t love it, but my options were to keep swimming or quit and I didn’t want to quit, so I kept swimming.

As I approach the Buster Boyd Bridge around 4PM at 18.5 miles on the course (closer to 20 with the wrong turn) and the last kayaker handoff, I saw Melanie as well as my sister and her kids holding a “Go Mike!” sign on the boat ramp.  Fans!! I felt briefly energized.

Cam hopped into the kayak and we took off.  Almost immediately I felt the accumulated fatigue of 10 hours of swimming.  Mentally this had been the spot I wanted to get to.  It’s 2/3rds of the way.  You can’t turn back when you’ve come this far.   I was probably too focused on getting to this spot though and part of my brain checked out as if I was done when I got there.  I was getting tired and still had 5 hours of swimming left.  How do you get your head around that after already swimming 10?

I recalled a quote I had heard a few months ago.  I actually misremembered it though as “Courage is holding off defeat one minute longer.” by George Patton.   I knew I had a long way to go.  I knew I would finish in the dark, and it all seemed like too much at some points.  But why am I worried about something 5 hours from now?  Or 2 hours from now? Or 1 hour from now?  I’m here in this moment and this moment is the only thing I can control right now and I just need to get to the next fueling break.   If I can’t do that, I can at least have the courage to make it just 25 more strokes.  I don’t need the courage to fight off defeat for 5 more hours, I just need the courage to fight off defeat for 25 more strokes and then try it again, then try it again, then try it again.   As we got deeper into the race it was really hard to swim continuously between fueling breaks. I’d zone out and swim as long as I could and eventually just tell myself to swim 25 more strokes before stopping.  And as I got close to 25 I’d tell myself to just try 25 more and I’d keep doing that until it was time for the scheduled break. Can you hold off defeat one minute longer? Can you hold it off for 25 more strokes?


Around mile 22 shortly after passing the Buster Boyd Bridge.

The sun started to set at the 13 hour mark and we turned the kayak lights on.  As we got to full darkness around 8PM the boat traffic was down to nothing and it was just Cam and I in the middle of the pitch-black night.  Cam earned his paycheck here with near perfect navigation in the dark.  If there were any moments of doubt it was right after the transition to darkness.  I swim a lot, but not like this. Was this safe?  Was it sensible? I wasn’t sure and doubt crept in, but I never considered any outcome other than finishing though, so the doubt meant nothing because I knew I was going to finish.

After a while much of the nervousness I had as we transitioned into the darkness had faded away.  We passed by the Lake Wiley dam which was the official second “dam” in the “Dam to Dam” at about the 14 hour mark, but there were still a couple miles left to reach the final boat launch and exit point.  I had envisioned doing this in day light and snapping a picture, but at 8:30PM while cold, tired and hungry I just gave it a glance and pushed on.    One of our final stops was beside a completely random dock.  We could see the house up on the hill with the lights on inside and wondered if they had any idea that this swimmer guy was floating right beside their boat, shivering and drinking an Ensure after having been swimming for 14 hours.


The “dock stop” about 14.5 hours in and one of the last stops before the finish.

I could tell where the finish was because Melanie had parked the car with the headlights shining at us like a beacon.  After swimming in the dark with no real landmarks, this was a mental oasis.   Finally now, after months and months of training and planning I could finally see the end.    I knew the finish would be nothing but Melanie holding a towel for me, but it was going to be one of the best finishes ever.   At about 9:15PM after 15+ hours of swimming, I finally reached the finish line after almost 30 miles of swimming.

We shared a beer as we loaded the gear back into the car.  Cam drove Melanie back to the race start to pick up the car I left there in the morning and I had to drive myself home with the kayak hanging out of the back window. Doug had finished ahead of me and we swapped congratulatory texts but we couldn’t find the strength for much more conversation than that.   My skin was weird from being in water so long.  I had inhaled so much water and debris that there was sorts of weirdness in my sinuses.  My equilibrium was off from floating for so long. I was wrecked.  I’ve done a whole bunch of endurance racing and that night of “sleep” ranks right up there with the most miserable.  That was a tough little swim.

There were no medals or finisher’s T-shirts at the end but that was never the point.  This started off with us wondering for whatever reason if it was possible to swim from one dam to the other.  And on that day for Doug and I, it was and that’s good enough for us.


Moments after reaching land.  Cam is in the kayak.  Melanie took the picture from the boat launch.  I am wobbly and I think still arguing with Cam about whether or not he navigated the last quarter mile correctly because I was tired and prickly. GPS says he nailed it perfectly.  MY BAD, CAM!

*Thanks for the Dave, Ben and Cam for the kayaking and Melanie for running land support all day long getting people where they needed to be.

**Oh, the correct quote is “Courage is fear holding on a minute longer”  not “Courage is holding off defeat a minute longer” like I thought.   I actually like mine better.

**We still have some slots open for next years Dam to Dam so get your applications in soon! 😊

**Below are a few more pictures with captions that offer a little more “behind the scenes” commentary.

*************  Some additional pictures  ****************


12.5 Mile Swim Around Key West

On June 22nd, I did a 12.5 mile swim race around the island of Key West in 5 hours and 5 minutes.  It was long and hard (which is pretty normal for a man like me), but in the end it wasn’t too bad.  The water temps were 90 degrees which made me pretty nervous, but it never seemed to bother me.  There wasn’t much interesting to look at in the water and with a personal kayak escort, what I saw on the day mainly went like this: water, kayak, water, kayak, water, kayak, water, kayak, water, kayak [repeat for 5 hours and 5 minutes]…..[bonk] Red buoy!!

My swim training built up to a handful of 12-15K swims with lots of frequency and total yards on my biggest weeks between 40-50K.  I found that once I got to around 40K for a week, I turned into complete idiot in the pool.  How marathon swimmers can get to 80-100K per week is beyond me.  I’m happy to be taking a break from a swim session that involves 600 flip turns!

post swim around key west

Post race back where I started on Smather’s Beach


Got a nice conch shell and mug for my age group award

Bridge to Bridge 10K Swim: The evolution of an endurance athlete


In 2011 I finished my 14th Ironman at Ironman Louisville and haven’t done a triathlon since.  With the coming birth of kiddo number 2, I needed to simplify my life for a while.  I did less training and more exercising in the early months after Cooper was born, but eventually found myself doing more and more trail running.  What had been an interest grew to a borderline obsession and eventually I was training to race again.  I completed a challenging 50K run and finished off the 2012 season with the 50 mile Bear Chase run in Lakewood.  Even in the offseason I was still doing a 20-30 mile run every weekend and looking forward to an even bigger year in 2013. I was evolving from an Ironman distance triathlete to an ultra runner. Well, all that running caught up to me and in early January I developed a stress fracture in my upper femoral neck (the part of the bone that sits in the hip socket). It was painful.  I absolutely couldn’t run.  I walked funny.  I couldn’t swing the kids around. I was stuck.  What to do?

I could swim with no pain and so I did that.  In early January I had been swimming once per week bagging an uninspired 2000 yards or so per swim.  It took a few months just to be able to swim hard on consecutive days, but the yards started adding up and I began to feel I should get something for all the effort besides dry skin.  I delved into a new world…the world of open water swimming.  I had only ever been a swimmer as part of being a triathlete.  To be honest, I had always been a pretty capable and confident triathlete swimmer, but I had never considered myself to be a true “swimmer”.  If you are a triathlete, you always have a built in excuse if you don’t swim well….you’re training for 2 other sports!  As soon as I start signing up for swim races, I need to step up my game. Searching open water race calendars and forums was a little weird at first.  I settled on the Bridge to Bridge race as my first race because the distance would be new to me and I knew the San Francisco area. The swim was 10 kilometers long and started at the Golden Gate Bridge and finished at the Bay Bridge.  It would be cold and there would be currents.  My training added up and my weekly long swims got to, and then beyond, 10K.  This was all a little different.

Map. First we had to swim towards Alcatraz. Then we hug the coast.

Map. First we had to swim towards Alcatraz. Then we hug the coast.

I was nervous about the water temperature, the currents, the distance and even a little about sharks and seals.  I dropped by a Swimming and Boating club near Aquatic Park for a practice swim the day before.  The gentleman who checked me in asked what the race’s “warming strategy” was for after the swim.  I just shook my head and fumbled through a confused response telling him we were just told to bring warm clothes.  He gave me a disappointing look that instantly made me feel unprepared.  Warming strategy?  What is that??  Oh my goodness.  I am in trouble!  I got in the water and was briefly overcome with panic when my face first hit the cold water.  Much of the panic was driven by nervousness, but I really was concerned I might not make it long in the water on race day.

Exiting the boat and swimming to the start line.

Exiting the boat and swimming to the start line.

The morning of the race I hopped on a boat that drove us out the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. I pulled on my wetsuit, neoprene cap and my goggles.  At the very last minute I jammed in some earplugs that they passed out which were supposed to keep the cold water out of your ears and prevent any headaches.  I didn’t really like trying something new on race day but I figured it would be easy to pull them out if they bothered me. I was one of the last few people to jump in the water.  The initial blast of cold water was certainly an attention getter, but the wetsuit took the edge of a real painful entry. I slowly made my way to the start line….a little too slowly I guess because the starting gun went off before I could get there!  From about 20 yards behind, I starting playing catch up. There were definitely some swimmers easing into the race.  I saw lots of backstroke and breaststroke as folks adjusted to the water temperature.  My plan was to start out pretty hard mainly so I could quickly warm up and to keep my mind distracted from feeling cold.  Pretty quickly I was towards the front, but it was very foggy so I couldn’t tell for sure who was ahead of me or where I was going quite frankly.

The race started during a slack tide so there wasn’t much current, but eventually it would start to push us forward. We had been advised to spend 20 minute swimming left (seemingly off course) towards Alcatraz Island to avoid getting caught in an ebb tide near the shore off to our right.  Swimmers stuck there would need to be “repositioned”. I followed a goateed fellow swimmer out towards Alcatraz until a kayaker advised us it was time to start headed back towards the shore.  I had seen one swimmer just ahead of us off to our right, but I lost them.  I figured we were either 1st and 2nd or 2nd and 3rd.  I don’t know what typical conditions in the Bay are, but on this swim it didn’t seem any worse than I had been prepared for.  There weren’t really any winds and other than the low thick fog the conditions seemed pretty good.  There was a chill in the water but it didn’t bother me in the least while swimming.  At one point I was even wishing I didn’t have the neoprene cap on because I felt warm.

Someone (not me) swimming by Alcatraz.

Someone (not me) swimming by Alcatraz.

The pace of the guy I was following seemed slow so I tried a few times to pass and realized it wasn’t as slow as I thought! I settled back in behind him.  For reason known only to God, I kept slipping back and not taking full advantage of the drafting opportunity, so I was probably working almost as hard as he was.  It all started to catch up to me about 45 minutes into the race when it became increasingly difficult to stay with him.    I started to feel better around the 75 minute mark and was thinking of trying to pass him when we hit some serious chop.  Swells lifted us up and dropped us just as quickly.  My long even strokes became disorganized and I got separated from my companion swimmer.  After 5 minutes or so the water calmed down and my swimming mate was about 20 yards to my left.  As we rounded a corner and came back on the same line he was now about 100 yards ahead of me.  He may have swam faster or got a better boost from the current.  It didn’t really matter why, the end result was that he was ahead of me.

After we made that turn the Bay Bridge came into view and it was quite a sight.  Being at water level the bridge seemed oversized and spanned the entire horizon.   The fog had finally lifted and the sun peaked her head out to light up the city and the bridge.  I actually took a brief moment to take it in.  Over the last 30 minutes I tried to catch up to the guy ahead of me and I’d make a little progress here and there, but never got close enough to feel I had a chance.  The current started to pick up a bit as I neared the finish at the bridge and between that and kicking hard for home, I was moving!!  I swam 20-30 feet away from a huge docked cruise ship which was awesome and terrifying at the same time.  I had thoughts of the huge propellers firing up and blowing me away! The final push to the finish buoy seemed to take forever.  The bridge is huge so even from far away it feels like you are pretty close.   I probably had 4-5 all out efforts to get home only to realize I started too soon and was crushed.  I’d recover and make the same mistake all over again.   I finally reach the buoy for a 1:48 swim time and swam over to the finish boat to a hearty round of applause from the spectators.



I was 3rd overall and completely ecstatic about it.  It’s easy to look back and say “of course I could finish”, “of course the cold water wouldn’t bother me”, “of course the currents wouldn’t shoot me off course”, “of course I’d finish well”, but going into it I really feared the opposite of all of those things, so there was a genuine satisfaction there.  Outside of some serious chaffing from my wetsuit around my neck I came out feeling great and ready for the next challenge.  I have just begun to run very very short distances again, but I’m still a ways from off from feeling like a “runner” again, so for the near future I will continue to masquerade as an open water swimmer.  Next stop is a 12 mile swim around Key West in June which will be a 35 degree difference in water temperature   Out of the icebox and into the firebox!  Onward, the next challenge awaits.


Mount Sanitas Fun Run Friday – A Foolish Exercise

“You always have to be the wise guy, eh?  I am going to start calling you Jake…..the village idiot.”

–Frank Guzek, my dad 1987

A blue net hat from a trip to Hawaii somehow made its way from the bottom of the hat drawer and into the living room and I saw it and had the same thought that most anyone would – “I can use that hat to make a kick ass 70s runner costume and run up Mount Santias this Thursday morning!”  Throwback Thursday was born!  Well, my two small kids screwed up my Thursday run so it was pushed back to Friday and so Throwback Thursday died as quickly as it began and Fun Run Friday was born!

Net hat, jorts, tube socks and funny shades. A tradition was born.

And so it began shortly before 6 AM on June 8th 2012 at the base of Mt. Sanitas.  A man in a net hat and jean shorts set out to change the world….that man’s name was me.  My idea was to run up in that outfit every Friday.  I would be like a ghost emerging from the morning mist on Friday and then disappearing as quickly as I came.  I’d be elusive.  Some would doubt my existence.  Others would speak in taverns (in whispered voices only) of their encounters with me.  It would be magical.  Spiritual.  But that first run taught me something.  It taught me that jean shorts chafe.

With that, I knew the strategic vision of this operation needed to change.  Any summit wearing or carrying anything ridiculous was fair game and the more ridiculous the better.  Thus began a weekly ritual of spending Thursday nights running around the house pulling out old clothes and props to assemble something I could run to the top of Sanitas with. I have two rules.  Rule 1 is to wear proper footwear.  I just couldn’t live with myself if I broke an ankle because I tripped in Wonder Woman boots.  Rule 2 is to not be offensive.  I don’t mind if someone thinks running up and carrying a wooden patio chair is a stupid idea (mainly because it’s absolutely a stupid idea), but if people start getting pissed off then it’s just not worth the wigs and morning make up.

Over the weeks I have come to know many familiar faces on the mountain…many of them with horrible fun run ideas such as (keep in mind these ideas were at the height of our very hot summer) Eskimo, snowboarder, scuba diver  and  lumberjack with working chainsaw…..  I suppose when you are at the top of the mountain talking with a guy who just ran up with a tray of drinks and lots of flair, no idea seems off limits. Nevertheless, seeing a good number of people truly get a kick out of it makes me think “yes, it was worth all that time in the basement looking for the George Mikan protective eye glasses in order to pull this costume off” and “that hour with the table saw to make that banner instead of helping my wife with dinner was worth it.”

I’ve learned a lot these last few months running the 1500 vertical feet from my house up to the top of Mount Sanitas with prop or costume every Friday morning.  I’ve learned carrying a wooden patio chair isn’t as hard as it might seem, while being dressed as Atlas and carrying a giant globe is very hard.  Unless they see it in the commercial, most people just think a Snuggie is a long funning looking robe.  Too many people in Boulder can watch a guy run by them in a tie with a briefcase and coffee and not smile.  Dribbling a basketball along a rocky ridgeline trail is a risky endeavor.  If you are carrying some swim noodles and you ask someone if the pool is still at the top, too many will genuinely think you are looking for a pool at the top.  Moses did not carry a Fed Ex package and a volleyball with a red handprint on it, Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway did.  Good friends will run with you, but those who run with you in costume are just as stupid as you.  Treasure them.  Even Jake the village idiot needs friends.


(click a picture to launch viewer)

Mount Sanitas Summit x 5

Sanitas Run Profile

I made the mistake of noting my start and stop time on a run to the top of Mount Sanitas a few months ago. Of course then each subsequent run had to the beat the time from before. And then it wasn’t just a “sometimes” run, it was a weekly run. And then I was running it twice a week. I hit the internet to see if I could find out what a “good” time to the top actually was and I landed on this site (http://www.wwwright.com/climbing/speed/sanitas.htm) which lists nearly every permutation of conquering that mountain you could come up with. Shortly after realizing my times paled in comparison to the fastest time, I saw someone had run five loops to the top and back. I was instantly drawn to it and a quick text and response from David Glover gave me a running buddy. The game was on.

We were off on the wrong foot when the forecast predicted sustained winds from the west up to 50 mph with gusts up to 100 mph (http://www.dailycamera.com/ci_19327805?IADID=Search-www.dailycamera.com-www.dailycamera.com) . And of course our ascent was on a westward facing ridge. However, as we headed out around 8, the conditions were only moderately breezy. Our course was up the west ridge approaching from the south and heading back down and home on the north side/valley trail. My initial goal was 5 hours leaving 1 hour per loop, but I thought 4:30 was possible. The climb up Sanitas is steep and rocky with endless 2-3 foot step ups and virtually no place to recover. You go 1300 feet up over 1.2 miles and 1.8 miles down and home.

That will be our summit 5 times today

The first two ascents weren’t that big of a deal (25:05/25:40 mins) and we decided to reverse direction on the 3rd loop and head up the valley floor. It was on this loop that I felt the onset of the will to aggressively cover the course beginning to slip away. This direction was a longer way up and took us 30 minutes which was still a good time, but we both knew we were going to be entering the pain zone soon.
It was about this time Mother Nature delivered in earnest on her predicted winds. The wind was literally blowing me over boulders on the descent and I was aggressively hitting the breaks for fear of being launched like a champagne cork down the trail. It did make for our fastest time down from the summit though despite a number of near wipeouts.

The 4th ascent may have been the hardest because it wasn’t the last and the wind was at its worst. I was leaning in at a 45 degree angle digging in like a lineman pushing a tackling dummy just to make any progress at all. Periodically a gust would come along and stand me straight up and back on my heels. Just as quickly, the wind would shift directions and blow me across the path. This was quite unnecessary for quads that were already being pushed to their limit. Later in the day when I took a shower I was washing dirt and pieces of leaves out of my ears that had been blown in there.

Lap 4 Summit

I struggled to keep up with the Glover, but managed to hang in and we submitted in 26:46 which I was pretty happy about given how we felt. The runs down were getting particularly tricky now as they were very technical (and neither of us are skilled) and the fatigue had set in on our legs in earnest. Upon finishing lap number 4 I realized not only should we beat 4:30, we had a chance to go under 4 hours for the run. My quads attempted to protest any time goals, but my brain (at rest anyway) was all for it.

The spring in my step was long since gone and the initial stages of climb 5 had me questioning the rational for doing 5 loops. Whereas overtaking someone on the trail was normally a mental boost, I was now dreading it because I feared a total collapse at any moment and absolutely embarrassment as I crawled into the fetal position in front of someone I just passed on the trail. Right around the halfway mark I had to take my first break and take about 5 seconds and regroup. Glover was strong and I sort of yo-yoed from right behind him to 10 yards back over the next few minutes until I could see the summit about 5 minutes away. I told myself “no more stopping” but several thousands 1 legged squats hoisting my 200lb carcass up this mountain caught up with me and all screamed at once to “stop!”. After one last 5 second recovery I vowed to keep going to until I was at the top. Several minutes later I tapped the lap button on the watch at the summit in 27:46 and collapsed in exhaustion on rock that had been my friend 4 other times today.
Glover and I snapped a quick picture and then headed down the trail. Sub 4 was easily in our grasp, but smiles turned concern as wobbly legs led to a face plant by Glover. Bruised and scraped, but not broken, he walked it off and again sub 4 was ours. But one final test came when I completely bonked hard with .25 miles to go. I was fine, then out of nowhere my legs buckled, eyes fogged over and it was like my head was a balloon and someone just let the air out. After about 30 seconds I ran again and with some sense of urgency….sub 4 was nearly slipping away. We managed to make it in 3:58 but I had to walk most of the mile home because I was flat out out of gas. I’ve never fueled for an event quite like this with its hard/easy thing and I obviously didn’t do it right.

I felt like absolutely crap for a couple hours, but some food and a short nap had me right as rain…rain that walks with a slight limp, a bit of a grimace and drinks a Red Bull to make it through the rest of the day, that is.

Avg Pace
Summary 3:58:50.2 14.44 16:32.5
1 -up 25:04.2 1.20 20:54.8
2 -down 20:42.9 1.69 12:14.1
3 -up 25:20.7 1.20 21:08.8
4 -down 20:21.8 1.79 11:24.4
5 -up 30:48.9 1.78 17:17.9
6 -down 17:20.6 0.84 20:42.3
7 -up 26:46.7 1.20 22:13.5
8 -down 20:48.4 1.75 11:54.2
9 -up 27:46.5 1.18 23:30.0
10 -down 23:49.2 1.81 13:10.0