Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon Race Recap

This is a recap of my very first attempt at the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon, albeit a little bit "after the fact."

The week leading up to the triathlon was busy professionally and personally. My school year was coming close to finishing up and that entails a lot: grading, report cards, graduation and getting ready for summer school. My youngest daughter was graduating from the high school nearby too and there were preparations for the celebratory extravaganza for both she and her friends. Personally things were in a bit of an upheaval in the relationship arena. I'd like to brush that part aside and say it had no bearing on my week but that wasn't the case. In fact, it affected my sleep and my head and my heart so by the night before Alcatraz I did not feel well. Mentally I was not in a good place. Physically I was sleep-deprived, dehydrated and though I drank extra fluids it was not enough.

I gave up trying to sleep around 3:30am and decided to get up and head to San Francisco and set up my bike transition which was opening at 4:00am. I grabbed a banana and toasted half of a bagel adding peanut butter with toasted flaxseeds mixed into it with a bit of honey to top it off. Note to self: DO NOT EAT FLAXSEEDS on race day ever again. Never ever.

It was still dark and after I crossed the Bay Bridge I took a moment to soak in how beautiful it looked all lit up with lights. The magic of the day was just beginning...

I parked my car (finding a spot was not an easy task), finished up the bagel and unloaded my bike, wetsuit, running shoes, towel and everything else. Finding my rack position for my bike was a bit trickier than I anticipated but all of the other athletes were helpful. I racked my bike, set up a towel with my helmet, bike gloves and sunglasses. I set up another area on my towel for my running shoes, a visor and sunscreen.

I got in line for the bathroom, earlier-mentioned flaxseeds making it VERY necessary to visit IMMEDIATELY. Afterward I headed over to my transition area and the woman across from me pointed out my chain had fallen off my bike. I thanked her and immediately got to work to fix it. I also made sure my bike was in a nice easy gear for after the swim and transition run, knowing my legs would need to warm up.

I grabbed my wetsuit and headed in line for the bus which would bring all of us to the boat for our race's start. Everyone was excited and friendly and nervous. The  morning was memorable, no fog, warm temperatures and the views were breathtaking.

We were delivered to a nearby dock. I drank the remainder of my water and began to put on  my new wetsuit applying Body Glide on any spots prone to chafing. I was glad I had made the decision to put it on later, rather than sooner. There was so much time remaining, it didn't make sense to put it on beforehand. It would be at the finish of the race later in the day. I debated whether to use my neoprene swim cap with the chinstrap and the race cap over it or a traditional cap. I opted to use a traditional cap, put my goggles on and then the yellow swimcap I was given. I knew it was warmer than normal and decided it would be a nice swim, not too cold. I  put my sweatpants, jacket, extra swim cap and goggles in one of two bags provided by the race directors. After I turned it in I realized I had forgotten to put in my flip-flops, the only glitch thus far. I had to forever say good-bye to them, leaving them behind, they had served me well over the years so parting was sweet sorrow.  I wish I could have photographed this portion of the race, everyone lined up like seals as we boarded.

On the boat we sat and waited for take-off. The sun was rising, Alcatraz was ahead, the City behind and the Golden Gate to our left as we chugged along. More magic.

After the boat reached its destination we stopped and got ready for everyone to disembark by jumping into the Bay.  The professionals lined up outside while nearby boats had their cameras were aimed and ready, helecoptors hovered above, kayakers and paddleboarders surrounded us on standby, ready to help guide the swimmers.

The people I had spoken to who had completed this race: Jeff, Steve, Rob, Jonathon and Gordon said it was, "All about the swim." One friend said after I jump in the Bay to take a moment, look around and purposefully take in the moment.  I had also been coached to aim for the two tall buildings behind Aquatic Park and then turn right toward the beach exit. If I needed help, all I needed to do was to raise my hand and eventually I would be "rescued." I also knew I wouldn't.

As I stood in the group preparing to jump off the boat, the woman in front of me, likely in her 60's, turned to me and said, "Please do not jump in until I am out of the way." I could hear her frightened tone as she looked at me.

I said, "I promise I won't jump on you."

My heart began pounding, the anxiety catching. I leapt off the boat while keeping one hand on my goggles. And I was off!

While swimming thoughts swirled in my head. This is so great! I want to do this again! Look at Alcatraz over there. Wow! The Golden Gate is right there and everything is soooooooo clear. This is not so cold. 

After some time had passed, the water grew very choppy. I imagined that this is what it must feel like to swim inside a washing machine. I continued onward. Even though I knew to head to the left, there was a large group headed further right. I wondered if they had received last minute instructions about a change in the currents. Essentially I was told we were swimming across two river currents...by heading a little to the right I was pulled toward the Golden Gate and far to the right of the swim exit. No less than four times I gave 100% effort to go left toward the exit. Each time I would head left, pulling really really hard, lift my head and I was turned 180 degrees and facing the bridge. Finally the crew on the boat pointed to shore, and yelled for me to exit at the beach away from the exit. I did so, knowing I'd have to run across the sand and rocks. I stood and fell down as both legs were severely cramping.

I crawled and caveman walked to the exit area. I began to run with cramped legs to my tennis shoes. I pulled off my wetsuit, thew it over my shoulder, put on my shoes and ran to my bike. I thew my wetsuit on the ground, changed into my bike shoes, put on my sunglasses, helmet and gloves. I grabbed my bike and ran/walk to the next transition exit and began the bike ride.

This was the time to eat. I tried to grab bites of an energy bar I had cut up and drink some of my sports drink. My stomach was rebelling. I ate a Tums, something a friend had coached me to do if my stomach needed settling. I did as many bike pedal rotations as I could to try and de-cramp my calves. It did not help but I soldiered onward.

It was a game of cat and mouse with my fellow riders. My legs continued cramping on the uphills and I would pedal, pedal, pedal, getting passed. A downhill would approach and I would let 'er rip! Wheeeeeeeeeee! I'd pass my fellow bikers.

The day was perfect for this leg of the race: clear, sunny and with further  breathtaking views. Up, down, forward and onward we rode, soon we were approaching the transition area again.

"Go TeamCindy!" I looked and there was Colleen, TeamCindy's race coordinator and cheerleader extraordinaire. I was happy to have her and others yell out encouraging words  every so often along the course throughout the day. It gave me an energy boost each time.

Next I traded my bike shoes for running shoes, my helmet for a visor and added two knee braces. My calves were still cramping as I headed out on the run along the oceanside. This was not going to be a piece of cake. My entire day I felt slow and heavy and legs continued to cramp. Still, I really did enjoy my fellow athletes, we'd talk as we ran, co-miserating together or giving words of encouragement. I kept reminding myself that this was about the experience and not a race. Not this time. Not this day. Not for me.

As I ran down the street, I heard someone yell, "Kathy!" and looked to my right. There, standing under the shade of a tree, stood my son Troy. He had gotten up very early, driven to San Francisco, parked his car several City blocks away and found me in a sea of people. I really can't put into words what that meant, seeing my man-boy, his head tilted to the side, grinning that sweet smile of his, directed at me. I can only say I had a very familiar lump in my throat and had to work very hard to breathe in air at that point. It touched me so.

I forged onward.

I did not realize I was smiling during this tedious part until I heard a man running toward me in the opposite direction say, "At least someone is still smiling!"

Still. When it got even harder, climbing the first set of stairs, the upward trail, the mogul-y sand or the cursed 400 sand ladder steps, I knew I could not or would not stop.  This was all about TeamCindy, for Anamarie Neveau. I was lucky to be here on this day with cramps in my calves, sun beating above with  a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Remember how awful this is, do NOT sign up for this race next year. I'm SO hot. Where is the end?!?

I s-l-o-w-l-y made my way back to the finish line.

I did not sprint to the end. I could not. I was tired. My calves hurt. My knees hurt. My body's tank was empty from a week of little sleep, a lot of questions in matters of the heart, and most of my morning fuel had gone through me due to a poor food choice before the race even began.

I finished.

I can say that I'm trying to find satisfaction in having completed the course during an unusually warm day, with a rebelling stomach, protesting knees, angry calves and a confused and bruised heart.

I can say I'm proud that many friends, family, team mates and yes, strangers, donated on behalf of Anamarie to the Brain Aneurysm's TeamCindy. Together we raised $3,545 to date. I met Cindy's mom via emails and phone calls, she is a hero in my mind. Some day I plan to meet her in person.  I can only say I feel a kinship to the maternal love and desperation that would drive her to create TeamCindy. I have felt that desperation this past year.  I thank her for allowing me to work through some of my own matters of the "mommy heart" in a way that helps other, while also doing something I love doing: swimming, biking and running. For that, I will always be grateful to both she and the organization she created.

I can say that Escape From Alcatraz was, to date, the hardest, slowest, most challenging and disappointing race I have completed.

It was also one of the most rewarding.