The Midmar Mile

This weekend its the infamous Midmar Mile, its held at the Midmar Dam north of Pietermaritzburg in Kwa ZuluNatal, South Africa

The Midmar Mile is the world's largest open water swimming event, and draws thousands of competitors each year, both serious international athletes and Olympic medallists to recreational swimmers.

The Midmar Mile swim gains its name from it's location (the Midmar Dam) and it's distance (+/- one mile). A unique feature of the race is that while the distance covered is always a mile, depending on rainfall and the water levels in the dam, the distance swum varies from year to year. In years with poor rainfall, competitors are subject to the infamous Midmar sprint start: a bedlam of bodies sprinting across the muddy lake-shore and through the shallows until the water is deep enough to swim.

In order to handle the vast number of competitors, the swimmers swim out in several groups at two-minute intervals in 8 batches over two days; the group division is based on a qualifying time in a previous event, with the fastest group leaving first.

Ive stood on the shores of Midmar the first weekend of February for 6 consecutive years, as a family we gathered to watch Jonathan swim, break records and improve his swim time for his age group, year after year. he was 10yrs old when he and two of his friends decided to do the first swim, they were the youngest competitors in the school and as the entry level was 10 he was probably one of the youngest swimmers there that year.

He was 15 when he swam his last Midmar Mile, and therefore qualified to compete in the men's open. I was as anxious as hell at the start. Its a frightening confusion of wild water and limbs as they run as far into the water as they are able before settling into their stride and pulling away from the other swimmers.

I remember standing there trying to figure out which he was in the melee of swimming bodies, and then recognizing his cap and his unique style. Only once I was sure he was well on his way did I walk around to the finish line and wait to see him run up the ramp stoked at his time, thrilled at coming in the top 30...and then feeling him wrap his long wet arms around me and hold me close against his still heaving chest, to the steady roar and constant clapping of the surrounding crowds.

Jonathan only swam the Midmar Mile 5 times, the 6th time a friend wore his number, and his cap..and as his race started I began to scatter his ashes at the finish line. One by one his friends finished that race and came up the hill were we stood, and each silently took a handful of his precious remains and tossed them silently to the wind...