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NOTE: The following is an excerpt from a book by Joseph Grossman that was never completed or published. Mr. Grossman died in 1972 and the book's draft contents were donated to the INTERNATIONAL MARATHON SWIMMING HALL OF FAME ( IMSHOF) by the World Professional Marathon Federation headed by Conrad Wennerberg. The book publication project has been taken up by Dale Petranech, who provided this material to the Atlantic City Around The Island Swim. |
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From the book titled MARATHON
SWIMMING CHRONICLES From |
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CHAPTER 21 ENTER MARTY! The 15-mile race held at the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto in August, 1963, has already been referred to as one of the most stirring exhibitions of grit seen in the modern era of marathon swimming racing. Heroine of the piece was 20-year-old Mary Martha “Marty” Sinn, then a University of Michigan coed, who had returned to the site of her first pro triumph, hoping to repeat her women’s division victory. The result of her efforts was beyond her wildest expectations. In a number of important areas, endurance swimming in races differs from solo swimming, the principal difference being that of having company in the water. If the old adage which declares, “misery loves company” is valid, racing would appear to be the better of the two worlds of long distance swimming. What thoughts run through the mind of a marathon swimmer during a race? After the ’63 Ex-event, LIFE Magazine provided some answers to that question in a by-lined article by Miss Sinn, in which she told her story of that competition. She wrote as follows: “Some athletes hate all the waiting around, but I like it. Gives me a chance to get rid of my stomach butterflies. I don’t like to hang around too much with the other swimmers, though. Listening to all their troubles gives me the heebies. “Just before a race my nervous excitement makes me acutely aware of the smallest things: how absurd and unreal the race seems compared to the security of a warm, fuzzy bath towel. Everyone wants to help but they all laugh loudly at jokes that aren’t funny at all. I smile and accept things but I scream inwardly -- don’t do this to me -- I don’t want to be burdened with kindness I may not be entitled to if “AT THE START -- The atmosphere here is hectic. I stay away from competitors if I can because I have fond feelings for most of them and would rather not be reminded of it. “Just before we dive in the water I look down and see a huge dead rat floating toward me. I wonder if, in the Middle Ages, this was considered bad luck. Now it’s just bad sanitation. We all dive in and hold onto a rope. The water’s awfully cold. This is almost it now, just have to wait for the gun to go off -- Bang! God, what an anticlimax. Sprint, you fool. If only I could go faster. What a jerk I am. I’ll lose the whole race before the first mile. Where’s Greta (Andersen)? All I can think about is keeping up. The only trouble with staying up with the pack is that you get kicked in the face. I can’t see anything except churning water and Greta’s black grease. “2nd AND 3rd MILES --Why didn’t I go out faster? This is awful. I feel like I’m in a Mixmaster. If I reached out a little bit I could bite Greta’s big toe. Why did I ever enter? I wonder if there’s some way I can get out of this. It would have to look honorable. “4th AND 5th MILES --Things are looking up. Of course after the first excitement it dawns on me that I have nothing to think about. This is a hell of a time to have your mind draw a blank. Guess it takes me a while to settle down. I’m gaining confidence. Greta’s behind the others a bit. I can pick out the others. George Park has a beautiful stroke at eye-level -- awfully smooth. Abou-Heif swims like a spastic -- he always splashes water in my face. I’ll show these fat, hairy men. This is pretty easy stuff. I’m just coasting along and I’ll bet they’re working like mad. Too bad, boys. I wish I could kick your goggles in, but I guess it’s better business to be demure. “6th AND7th MILES -- Another stage of depression has set in. The cold water is beginning to take effect. I’ve passed Greta. Too bad, baby. I know I can beat her -- I’ve proved it to myself. So why beat my brains out any more? Guess I’ll stop. Boomer (Blair, an Atlantic City lifeguard who was Marty’s rower in this race) and Matty (Mann, Sr.) look horrified when I tell them. I fell sort of like a jerk but I’m in a martyrish mood. Guess I’ll really turn on the dramatics. “I whip off my goggles and start swimming toward the breakwater. People are all around begging me not to stop. Buck Dawson (her manager, now Director of the Swimming Hall of Fame) is one on the wall. Where did he come from? Boomer and Matty are yelling at me to try just one more mile. I hate them! George Park just swam by with a big grin on his face. Thinks he’s going to get more money -- ha! I feel mean, like cutting somebody down. “I yell up at Buck, ‘I’m never going to forgive you for this!’ How embarrassing it all is -- I can’t put my goggles back on ‘cause they’re all greasy. This stupid grease. I throw my goggles in the boat. Well, if I’m going to stay in I might as well make a race of it. Rose Mary (Dawson, Coach Mann’s daughter and Buck’s wife) went by now in a boat and told me Greta quit. Well, boy, if Greta’s out I could go all night for $1,500. I think I’ll wear my tan slack outfit when I pick up the money tomorrow. “I feel awful about my little scene back there. What a stupid thing to do in a race. It was just a normal depression but I had to open my big mouth. What a blotch on the ledger. I should never do that sort of think to my rowers or coach. I could take this even with icebergs in the water but I had to ask for a little pity. Nothing like weakness of character. I was acting just like a girl. What a jerk! “8th AND 9th MILES -- Caught up with Abou-Heif. He’s good pacer. I’ll stick with him if it kills me. Look at the boats all around. I’ve never felt so important before. I hope the photographers make me look small and defenseless next to Abou. Boomer’s yelling and Matty’s holding up the blackboard: ‘Greta says, “Pretty, but no guts.” ’ I ‘ll show that ---- ! That is what they call psychology. “11th MILE --My arms feel like Tarzan’s. People must think I’m fantastic. I’m Marty. Very funny -- everything is very funny. This is almost effortless and people think I’m a big deal. Damn Abou -- he keeps splashing water. His wife writes him notes in Arabic so I can’t tell what his strategy is. Think I’ll write the authorities about that. Wonder where everyone else is. “12th MILE -- Matty and Mrs. Abou-Heif keep putting on their boards that Herman (Willemse) is only 300 yards ahead, then 200, now 50. I’, sure there’s a mistake. Herman really is just ahead. Wow! My arms feel as though they will never get tired. I’m getting cold shivers this is so exciting. It’s funny how the person ahead seems to be standing still when you’re trying to catch him. I wish it were Abou-Heif up ahead in Herman’s place because I know I’m going to beat Herman. I hate to see him lose ‘cause I know he’s better than I am. Guess the cold really affects him. That’s show biz! “13th MILE -- He won’t quit though; not Herman. This is very exciting but also very sad. Just two more miles to go now. Egad, what if I could win -- got to keep up with Abou. How nice my bed will feel tonight. The water’s not too bad but I’m getting tired now and indifferent. “14th AND 15th MILES -- I’m getting a little fuzzy now. Abou’s eyes look very big inside those goggles. I wonder where my goggles are? Maybe if I just stopped to rest a minute. On a 50-mile hike Buck once said to count cadence when we were tired. Sorta like Bridge on the River Kwai. Wonder if it will work in swimming. It works. 1, 2, 3, 4 …. 1, 2, 3, 4. I must lift my arms over when Abou does. (I don’t remember much here.) Abou’s gone -- why has he left me? Matty and Boomer keep yelling from the boat. They seem far away, then right next to me then far away again. Can’t remember much after this. Just weak flashes …. 1, 2, 3, 4. I must keep going no0, I want to rest a minute. No, I must keep on going. I’m swimming in a dream. There’s the barge. I’ve made it, I guess. “THE FINISH -- Leave me alone, stupid photographers. I just want to slip under water for a minute and rest. I can’t smile, mister. Boy oh boy, it’s all over! Just let me rest. “But tomorrow is the big moment. I love to shake losers’ hands.” Marty shook losers’ hands often that year as she won the Women’s World Championship title. She’d been second woman at Atlantic City (behind Greta) and first woman at both Three Rivers and in the Toronto race she was describing. A month later she represented the United States in the 25-mile race on the Suez Canal and was again the first female to finish, beating European champion Atina Bojadgi of Yugoslavia. Her pro marathoning career, which had started in August, 1962, at the Ex and run only one full year, ended in July, 1964, when she was the first woman to complete the Atlantic City race. After that swim, which she didn’t then realize was her last, Marty gave some further insights into her approach to marathon swimming and her thoughts during a race to Gilbert Rogin, was covered the Atlantic City swim for Sports Illustrated Magazine. I’m glad it’s over, “the $1,000 winner said. “I did the best I could and didn’t consciously loaf at any point. I was getting a little seasick in the Ocean -- I swallowed quite a bit of it. Towards the end I felt real strong. I just felt so good. I was elated. It was just like entertainment, picking off the boys. I was singing a Beatles song to myself as I swam along -- Not a Second Time. Oh, I had a great time of it in the Back Bay! “But I’m still not real enthusiastic about swimming. Other things I’m becoming interested in are going to be more important to me in years to come, and I don’t want my swimming to become half-hearted. It would be very distasteful to me to pursue anything in that fashion. “You do well in a race, and you’re excited for the first few days. Then you go back to your former frame of king. It’s better to accept circumstances and not blow them up, treat them like everyday things, and not be an ass,” she philosophized, adding, “Swimming’s been amazing. I’ve gotten oodles of things out of it.” The next thing the 21-year-old beauty got out of swimming was herself! Buck Dawson told the author many times during Marty’s short marathoning career that she found the intensive training necessary for a mere three months of competition a drag. I her chat with Rogin, she gave some indication of this. Noting that she played a bit of handful, worked out with a 20-pound weights and swam an hour a day during the winter months at college, she had to go at it in earnest when spring arrived. At a camp run by Dawson in northern Canada, Marty would swim four to seven miles a day and do some cross-country running. But the problem, she said, was to find something to think about to pass the tedious hours while swimming mile after mile alone. “For the first quarter-mile I think about my stroke, “she explained. “Then I try to think hard on a particular subject so that my arms will be rotating automatically. When my head is encased in my bathing cap and goggles it seems to be completely disassociated from my body. Sometimes it’s even a surprise to find myself swimming. With my head and eyes dry, there are times that the water doesn’t even feel wet. It’s funny. “You have to be a little creative to start thinking of a topic. Then, as you swim along, you go from one subject to another. After a while, you build up a large repertoire of topics. As with the violin or anything else -- the day-to-day preparation is boring, but a person should have enough self-discipline to get through each day. “Then, every day has a little different appeal. Cold, rainy days are pretty. Sometimes you sort of swim into a sunset. It’s relaxing, tranquil -- swim out into the wild blue and get away from it all. And swimming’s -- fun a lark. But the more races I swim in, the more pressure there is, which is unfortunate. In a race three hours seems like 20 minutes, but you get periods of great depression. If the race is 20 miles, and I’ve done about eight or nine, gone a long way but haven’t done half yet, then I try to think about something: pleasant: how can I afford a dress I want? “I really pity a lot of the pros,” Marty went on. “They get so terribly wrapped up in it. Everything else in life is an anticlimax. Swimming is just a part of my life. A fifth. I have other interests. Last year, for instance, I studied art for a semester in Mexico City. In the winter I associate with a different kind of person. I prefer it that way. I don’t think most of my friends at home are even aware I swim in these races. Swimming has its little niche -- three months of the year. “I’m suspicious of people who are terribly gung-ho about all phases of athletics --diet sleep. I eat chocolate ice cream before a race, blueberry pancakes and chocolate cake. I try to think of things that dedicated athletes wouldn’t do, and do them. I’m a little critical of people who train so intensely -- they become machines instead of people they become masochists. I just don’t believe in it. It’s detrimental to your character later, naturally and to the sport too. “Obsessions can become vicious. You get so wrapped up you lose perspectives”, she added. Marty Sinn didn’t lose her perspective. After the Atlantic City race in ’64 she went to Toronto to participate in the 32-mile swim across Lake Ontario the Canadian National Exhibition arranged. But Rose Mary withdrew her when it appeared water and weather conditions removed almost every element of sport from the race and turned it into what one swimmer dubbed “The Survival of the Fittest.” The beautiful, freckle-faced blonde never raced again, and soon became Mrs. Mary Martha Catalno of Detroit. |
