I did the
Alcatraz XXX Triathlon “Escape from the
Rock”
on Sunday June 20th, 2010. I was describing it to friends and ended up
writing up the whole race.
Race Day
The race was great, I had such a fun time. It was a beautiful day;
when I woke up at five I thought the bay might be foggy, because I
could see some clouds, but when I crested the hill on Franklin and
started down into the Marina I could see it would be gorgeous!
They changed ferry operators or something over the past two years, we
had to walk from Aquatic Park all the way around the Embarcadero, past
Butterfly restaurant if you know where that is, and not far from
Justin Herman Plaza. Next time I bring flip-flops, as barefeet all
that way isn’t the greatest sensation. Luckily there was no glass.
Once on the boat I stretched and started thinking about the swim. I
finally finished putting my wetsuit on and it wasn’t as bad as
Saturday when it was the third I had tried on in the store. Trying on
three wetsuits is its own workout. The new suit is hot, it has these
blue stripes that kind of swoosh down my arms and legs.
I saw how superior it was when I went outside to the taffrail to
unload all the water I’d been drinking since waking. I stood there on
the back of the boat, looking at Alcatraz beautiful in the morning
light and maybe a hundred feet away, and let ‘er rip. My old wetsuit
with its old seams would have started leaking all over the place. But
the new suit is well-sealed, and there was a nice time delay before it
all started pouring out from around my ankles. A great feeling of
relief. Now I was ready!
Swim
I jumped into the bay with everyone else and got the usual entry
shock, but I think it was warmer than three weeks ago, plus of course
I now had the wetsuit. I was paddling around towards the start when I
felt something weird on my left ankle. I pulled it up to take a look –
visibility is about two inches underwater – and saw my timing chip had
almost come off when I jumped in. I resealed the velcro but it kind of
bugged me the rest of the swim, worrying about it. Next time I might
consider some duct tape for extra surety.
I was wimpy about putting my face in the water until I heard the
one-minute blast on the ship’s horn, which meant I had to get myself
up to the starting line. Nothing like some adrenaline to get over the
cold. A guy next to me asked where the finish was and I pointed out
the twin-tower condos right behind aquatic park. “Just head for them,”
I said. Ha! If only I had taken my own advice!
Then there was a countdown and some whooping and hollering – I admit I
made some noise – and then the blast of the horn that signaled the
start. Right away I thought, wow, this wetsuit is too tight and
constricting! I should have swum with it before the race! No new
equipment on race day! I had violated that maxim twice; not only did I
have a new wetsuit, I was wearing new goggles. Luckily the goggles
were working well, and the wetsuit turned out to be fine. Whether I
stretched it into better alignment or I just toughened up, after a
minute or so I never thought about it again.
The swim wasn’t bad, from the “getting kicked in the face”
perspective. I had plenty of space for most of it and was able to get
into my swim groove. There were some swells and a little chop, but
conditions were basically smooth most of the way from Alcatraz. For
the first half I had good points off the lead boat with its three
orange balls, but then I kind of lost track of it. I knew I was good
because I could see the twin towers. And then eventually, as I got
close, I could see the grandstands!
At one point I thought about swimmers in past races who have missed
the opening into the harbor, only to be swept along the pier. Steering
is important in these swims and I was glad to be so on point in this
race. Things kind of crowded up as we neared Aquatic Park, and for a
while I was with three others who seemed to have trouble steering.
Finally I got to their right and they appeared to veer left, so I was
ok.
I went on for a bit more and was having trouble seeing the
grandstands. You only get to look for a fraction of a second when you
lift your head between strokes, and sometimes you don’t see anything
at all because you’re in a trough. Even a small swell blocks your view
if your eye is only an inch above water. But eventually I decided I
needed a real look and paused to truly raise my head.
Whoops. I saw now that I had, in fact, missed the opening, and was
looking at the pier in front of me. If you’ve never been to Aquatic
Park, this is a huge concrete structure that you cannot pass through,
with nice scary darkness underneath among the pilings. I also saw that
there were lots of swimmers in this area, some much further past the
opening than I.
I immediately veered left, hard, and started swimming at an angle to
get back to the harbor opening. Unfortunately, I could tell from
looking at the pier that I wasn’t making much progress. Swimming at an
angle like this only moved me closer to the pier. And the closer I
got, the more I could see that plenty of swimmers were in trouble.
Soon I was making no progress at all, and other swimmers were being
swept by. Swim swim swim. A kayak was at the edge of the pier, holding
its position, and the paddler was clearly working at it, with a bow
wave off the kayak.
I decided the current must be strongest near the pier, so I pointed
myself away. By gaining distance, I could see I started to make
progress again. Extremely slow progress. What has happened to all the
other swimmers, I wondered. Swim swim swim. I have swum against the
bay currents before and I know they are beatable, though perhaps not
right next to the pier. The more progress I made, the easier progress
became, as the pier curved inwards towards the mouth of the harbor.
Suddenly, it felt like I was free of the current, as I entered the
harbor proper. I felt like I was rocketing through the water after the
struggle. How long had it been? I had no idea. It felt like a very
long time, especially as I had just congratulated myself on my
efficient steering. Meanwhile, where was the swim finish? The beach is
wide, and I had cleverly neglected to look at it ahead of time. That
mass of people – they must be the finish.
When my fingers dragged bottom I stood and ran out of the water. The
crowd erupted in cheers! I cheered in return! More cheers! I crossed
the timing line. Masses of people, and no idea which way was out to my
running gear. People pointed, and I ran over to my gear. I saw other
swimmers just standing around. I guess they’re in no hurry to run, I
thought. Then I figured out they must be swim-only.
My first change wasn’t too bad. I took the time for socks, which I
have skipped in the past. I pulled on a pair of shorts, which I
regretted later. After stuffing my wetsuit and other gear into my bag,
I headed out on the run.
First Run
Immediately I was passed by a woman bouncing along in her orange top
and white cap, listening to an ipod strapped to her upper arm. I
consoled myself with the thought that she couldn’t possibly be in the
race. Just to be sure, I checked her hair. Dry. Okay.
My feet were not absolutely numb. It felt like I had a big stick in my
left shoe, right under the midsection. I wanted to stop and remove it
except I knew the stick was actually the numb flesh on the bottom of
my foot. I was staying true to my new running technique – no heel
strikes, only midsection and the ball of the foot, and the numbness
didn’t really bother me. What did bother me were my shorts.
My concept was that I would put some gel packs (a grotesque energy
“food” that you would only ingest during a race) in the pockets of the
shorts and thus have them with me on the run and bike. But immediately
it felt like the shorts were falling down. It felt like they were
low-riding off my ass. I reached to pull them up a few times but when
I did it felt like they were in place. So maybe it was just the feel
of the shorts against the swimsuit. But I immediately recognized that
my initial concept was flawed.
Coming out of Aquatic Park, you immediately have a small hill up to
Fort Mason. Sometimes the small hills are the worst. I felt good on
this one, after hiking up my shorts, and orange top was not that far
in front of me. I was passed on the hill by another Sunday runner, a
guy who blew by me and then dialed it back at the top of the hill.
Pffft! Try doing that after a swim, buddy!
At this point I was passed by a woman who had obviously come out of
the water, as her braids were wet, and she had the timing chip on her
ankle. I decided to shorten my stride a bit and strive for that even
feeling, pushing myself along. That’s how I think about this
midfoot-impact technique. She got out about twenty yards ahead but
then didn’t seem to be able to extend her lead.
There weren’t many people on the run course. I could see a few ahead,
but it made me think I had done pretty well on the swim even given my
struggle with the pier. Later I discovered that the vast majority of
swimmers had been swept past the opening, and had to be picked up in
boats and brought upstream of the harbor mouth. I now consider this a
great honor, and I want a prize just for swimming through it!
The course descended from Fort Mason and went past Marina Green, and
then cut over to the gravel running path that runs along the bay by
Crissy Field. In past years it has been on the hardtop path that goes
along the road, so this was much nicer. I was passed by a couple of
people here, but I still had Ms Braids not
too far ahead, and I was using her for inspiration.
Past the wooden bridge that crosses the Crissy Field estuary,
she seemed to slow. I tried again to even out my stride, and
went past her just as we were approaching a ragtag group of musicians
who had gathered along the path. They had a variety of strange and
wondrous instruments, with which they made what can fairly be called a
cacophony while hooting and hollering. They lined up for high-fives
and I obliged them as I went by.
Having passed someone who was basically my speed I felt the pressure
to keep it moving. Luckily I was distracted as I came around the bend
in the path by the amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge set against
the high cirrus clouds in the crisp morning air. It was a
movie-quality material, and I was soon past the Crissy Warming Hut,
where course bent left up the stairs to the San Francisco side of the
bridge.
The climb up to the bridge and then out on the trail that goes under
the bridge and along the headlands above Baker Beach was uneventful,
except for the continuous climbing. But I knew the end of the run
course was close at hand, and soon I’d be getting on my bike. I wasn’t
setting any speed records, but I felt good, and coming into the bike
transition area there were people and cheers and feet that were warm
and fully functional again.
As soon as I got to my bike I took off my now-hated shorts, pulled a
couple of the gels out and shoved them into my riding gloves, one in
each hand, between the glove and my palm. Put on my shoes, helmet,
grab the bike, and go. I saw that the woman with the braids was once
again in front of me! I blame the shorts.
I ran my bike to the mount point, got on, and headed out on the bike course.
Bike
The bike course for this race is odd. It’s four loops down to Baker
Beach and back, totalling fourteen miles of either descending or
climbing, with no flat sections. The descent is great, it’s a twisting
downhill on Lincoln Boulevard with plenty of room, so you can really
fly, particularly if you’re a big guy like me. And you get these great
vistas of the Pacific. I miss those views from my time in the
Richmond, just a short run from Baker Beach!
The climb is painful on the first loop, when your legs are still in
run mode, but by the time you get to the fourth loop they’ve
acclimated, and for me it felt like I got stronger and stronger each
time around. Plus all those climbs are good exercise with an ancient
bike! Dave Horning, the race organizer, saw my bike when I was
checking in and whistled, “that’s a classic!” He came over and lifted
it up. “Must be 40 pounds!”
Coming out of the transition area, you immediately hit the descent.
Because I had the brilliant idea of putting the gel packs in my
gloves, I was a bit tentative on the handlebars, since I didn’t want
to accidently burst them and have hands covered in sticky goop. I ate
the first on the first loop and the last on the last loop, and drank
most of a bottle of water on the rest of the course. One of the great
things about having the swim be your best event is that there aren’t
many people around for the first part of the bike, so you can really
sail. By the fourth loop, everyone else is on the course, so it can
get crowded.
The bike leg was fun. There were people at a particularly steep
section who kept up the cheers and the trash-talk, and because you are
always adjusting on the bike and trying to avoid high-speed disasters,
the time goes by fast, and I soon found myself on my fourth loop. I
think four is the maximum an athlete can be expected to count in a
race. I was even slightly (just slightly) confused towards the end of
the third loop, as to whether that might be my fourth. All your
mathematical ability goes out the window in a race.
At the end of the fourth loop you are diverted onto another path that
leads you back to the transition area. Weirdly, two race people told
me I was “off the clock” while on that path. What does that mean? It
all counts for your overall time.
Second Run
Anyway, back in the transition area I shed my biking gear and put on
my running shoes again, and headed out for the final run leg, a 5k
down to Baker Beach and up the sand ladder. Lots and lots of cheers at
this point, yay! Unfortunately, my legs felt way worse now than they
did when I was starting the first run leg. The bike kills your legs
for running, it always takes a while to readjust. It took an effort of
will to stay with the running technique change, but shortening up my
stride again made it easier.
Luckily, you only have a short rolling stretch on this run before you
start descending to Baker Beach. You pay for this later on the climb
back to the finish, but for now it’s all good. Looks like the park
service also cut back the poison oak on these trails. Initially you
run next to the bike course, so I congratulated myself on being ahead
of everyone who was still on the bike, but on the other hand I had
seen runners go by when I was still climbing on my third bike loop.
Those guys are really fast. The winners of this triathlon were just
finishing their run as I started!
About midway down Lincoln you take a trail to the right that goes down
to the beach, and from here on its sand. You run along Baker Beach to
a turn around point and then back towards the sand ladder. Everyone
heads down to the tide line, because you want to run on the wet,
packed sand. It’s still exhausting, and when you have to come up off
the packed onto the soft sand for the turnaround, it’s a struggle.
After the turnaround, on the double-back to the sand ladder, you pass the people who are behind you and still on their way to the turnaround. The woman in braids came down onto the beach just as I was reaching the sand ladder trail. We smiled and waved to each other. I think she was a more cautious descender than I, so I had gained some time on her on the bike leg.
And finally, the dreaded sand ladder, which is a great sandy
staircase going up from Baker Beach back to Lincoln. They have wooden
logs stretched across it, but they are mostly buried in the sand, so
it’s just plain exhausting. I remember at a past triathlon, some guy
was ahead of me and a buddy of his yelled at him, “it’s ok! the pros
walked it! the pros walked it!”
So yes, I walked it, but I like to think I walked it with some elan,
and the vestige of a spring in my step. It’s a Zen exercise
maintaining mind-like-water as you climb, trying to step on the buried
wooden logs, sinking into the sand in the places where there are none,
but eventually you reach the top. There you have the interesting
question of when you start “running” again. It’s not hard to convince
yourself you should wait until it gets more solid, say, until you are
back to Lincoln proper. I started running again when I saw people
coming, proving that looking good is the ultimate motivator.
After the sand ladder, it’s back up the rest of Lincoln, and then to
the finish at the transition area. I tried to tell myself that the
race was almost over, just a little bit more, and couldn’t my legs
move a little bit faster? But it was hard to get them going. Once I
crested the final hill on Lincoln I was able to pick it up, and then
when I came around to the final stretch I managed a semblance of a
sprint. Of course, people were cheering everywhere, it’s very
motivating.
Finish
And then the finish, yay!
Total time: 2:53:45. Woo hoo! Sub-three hours! Splits:
- 47:10 swim
- 40:23 run 1
- 02:38 transition
- 53:03 bike
- 02:17 transition
- 28:11 run 2
