My expectations were high. So high in fact, that they scared me. But, if your goals don't scare you, they're not big enough. Or so, I kept telling myself over the past 8 months.
One of my goals for this event was to once and for all, figure out what kind of metal I was made of, what kind of blood I had running through my veins. Sometimes I tend to reach for more than I can chew; my eyes are bigger than my stomach kind'a of thing. I preach the "never say never" attitude. I try to live by this. Sometimes it's scary, sometimes I stumble, but all times, I give everything I have. This time it would not be any different.
At my age, most people are making plans on how to approach retirement. Don't get me wrong, everyone has a different view of what they want their golden years to look like, and I'm not here to judge, nor it's my place to do so. Most have worked a lifetime to get to this point and are looking forward to those days when they're able to sit back, relax, take it easy, sleep late, etc. I'm looking forward to those days as well, but maybe with a little extra added.
As the aches and pains associated with all my races started to surface, I tried as best as I could to keep my mind preoccupied, but this was to no avail. I have not made it a secret, my training was an open book, everyone who wanted to, anyone interested, knew what I was up to, what I was doing, and how things were going. Like it or not, this added an extra level of stress to me. The last thing in the world I want to do is to disappoint anyone. Not that I'm doing this for anyone other than myself. I want more than anything to be an example to everyone who believes that they can't do this or they can't do that, for whatever reason. I want everyone to believe that with a little effort, a whole lot of work and a tremendous amount of faith in yourself, you can, and you will accomplish whatever you make your mind up to do.
After an early morning, and a very long day in flight, we arrived in San Francisco. Immediately I went to the Sports Basement to pick up my rental bike. This was the best decision I ever made. I was given a Cannondale road bike, geared perfectly for the hills that were to come. I brought my own pedals and they promptly installed them. I had my own helmet and shoes so I was able to take the bike for a test ride. Good thing I did because the shoes would not clip. Something had happened to the clips and they would not snap into the pedals. I took the bike back in to get this checked and the tech immediately diagnosed the problem: A broken clip. $29 later, my clips were changed and all was good. Now I was able to take the bike for a proper test ride, checking the seat position, the brakes, the shifters, etc. All was good. Put the bike in the car and took it to the hotel for safe keeping.
Friday was pretty much rest and relax day. I did go out for a short and easy 5-mile bike ride, just enough to let the legs spin for a bit. I nosed around the transition area, for the work was in full force to get everything ready for Saturday's athlete check-in. Monica and Marcela had gone sightseeing and left me alone. This was a good move on their part. They were able to enjoy the City.
Athlete and Bike check started on Saturday at 11:00 am. I promptly claimed my turn at 10:30 together with more than a handful of other hopeful escapees. Once the line opened, it moved pretty efficiently. I was officially registered by about 11:15. We moved along the several lines to pick up the tremendous amount of swag given to each one of us. No wonder the fees were what they were. But it's all good, everything was wonderful and in my opinion, of very good quality. The "Escape" backpack puts the others I've received in the past to shame. Not taking pop-shots at anyone (Ironman), just stating the facts and the very obvious.
After leaving my bike racked and ready, I went back to the hotel. There I waited for the girls. They were out on their own again. I took a brief nap and then we went to dinner. Back in the room by 6:30 to attempt to get some sleep. Nothing doing.
Sunday morning, 3:00 am couldn't come quick enough. I probably slept for 3 hours all night. No more. When the alarm went off, I was up and ready. Showered, dressed, ate oatmeal and drank one cup of coffee for breakfast and was off. On the road to race by 4:15 am. The drive was a short one, 15 minutes, no more. Parking was already an issue so they dropped me off in front of the race site. We said our goodbyes and off I was.
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| Photo Credit: Marcela Sanchez |
As we boarded, the instructions were for anyone 40 and over to find their way to the second deck. So this is where I headed. Found me a spot next to a wall where I could rest my back. The time was 5:45. The boat would not leave for about an hour. The mood by now was a bit different, everyone seemed somewhat more relaxed. I was as well. Next to me sat a gentleman from Detroit. This would be his third Escape. To the other side was a girl from Denver, this would be her first Escape. We exchanged conversation, mostly about the swim. This seemed to be what everyone wanted to talk about. Everyone was giving last minute advice. Every word of encouragement was welcomed as well.
About 6:15 I moved to the outside deck. It was full of anxiety as we all waited for the boat to leave the dock. Some people were happy just being quiet, I was one of those. Most all of us were making final adjustments to our wetsuits. I was having a hard time pulling my zipper up, so this girl next to me said that she would help me if I would help her. Agreed. Trish, she told me her name. I told her mine. The conversation began very casually, exchanging information. Where we're from, was this our first Escape. Are we good swimmers, etc. It became apparent very quickly, that she was nervous, very nervous about the swim. She's not a good swimmer, she told me. She was very apprehensive but needed to do this for herself, she continued. Her story became very familiar to mine, but I didn't want to interrupt. It was obvious she needed to talk. So I listened.
All the local authorities gave the green light, the go ahead. The Coast Guard and SFPD said that we would swim. The boat left at 6:45 am.
As the boat made its way to where it would anchor, we continued our conversation, I tried to put her at ease. I told her that she needed to trust herself. She had made it this far, the toughest part of the journey was behind her. In retrospect, I believe I was saying all these things to her so that I could hear them out loud, things I believe I needed to hear myself.
We arrived at our destination around 7:15 am. The waters looked choppy but I remember thinking that perhaps it had to do with all the support vessels making their way towards us, there were some 100+ of them, all sizes, all shapes, all varieties. The Captain announced that we had company. A school of Dolphins had been following us for a bit. This was unusual, he said, but there they were. Then the National Anthem played, the gates opened and the whistle blew. It was race time. As the professional men and women dove into the water, I noticed that the Dolphins were still hanging around.
We made our way from the second deck to the first, my new friend looked back at me and told me not to let her jump by herself. I told her I would be right by her side. She kept looking back, just to make sure I was there, and with eye contact, I assured her I was. There were three gates open for us to jump from. Most everyone was jumping from the two front, the rear one was not crowded at all. I told her we would jump from the back. And there we were, right before we took the plunge, I said to her "I'll see you at the finish line." And off we were.
I believe that this whole experience, this whole exchange happened for a reason. I believe that we were placed there for the purpose of calming each other down. It worked, at least for me, because I never thought about the jump again. This was the one element I was most concerned with, the last thing you want to happen is for someone to jump on top of you.
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| Photo Credit: Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon |
At first impact the water was cold. But it didn't feel as cold as I had thought it would feel. I had expected the shock would take my breath away. It did not. I was afraid I would cramp, I did not. We had been told the temperature was 58. I was happy I had a good wet suit, I was happy I had my Neo-socks and I was very happy I had a Neo-cap. After the initial impact, I don't ever remember ever being cold again. My goggles did fog so this made sighting somewhat difficult. I had used these same goggles in Chattanooga three weeks prior with no problem. Maybe the difference in water temperature. Who knows.
I found my rhythm rather quickly. I took a breath every third stroke consistently. Sighting every time I took a breath to the left. I had practiced this relentlessly. After what seemed like just a few minutes, a kayak came by and asked how I was doing. Why is he asking me this, I thought. Am I off course already? Do I look like I may not be doing so well? "very good" I told him. "am I headed in the right direction?" I asked. Actually, you're positioned perfectly on course. he told me. Proceeded to wish me a good day,
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| Photo Credit: Marcela Sanchez |
When I finally made my way out of the water, into the beach, I saw Monica and Marcela, and to tell you that they had a very relieved look on their face would be an understatement. Monica grabbed my neck and gave me a hug for the ages. Marcela was so happy and excited, she couldn't take a proper picture. Later I asked them if they had been worried. They told me they were not. I think they fibbed a bit. They did tell me that it was concerning to see all the swimmers make their way to the Golden Gate Bridge. We estimate that anyone who made it there swam an extra mile or so.
The transition area was located about half a mile away. Still bummed about my Garmin, I made my way to get my bike. Halfway there, Marcela caught up with me to give me her own Garmin to use. Much appreciated this thought.
The first mile and change on the bike course ran alongside the beach. The Bridge to the right. This section was very flat, which was just what was needed to get legs ready to climb. Which we rapidly did. After the first mile and change, we turned sharp left and the climbing began. There was a wall. A frigging wall waiting for us. If your bike was not in the proper gear, you were in trouble, big trouble. Mine was. I proceeded to climb. My legs felt good. The bike felt better. This was good news.
During the remainder of the ride, you were either going up, at about 3-5 miles per hour, depending on your skill and strength level, or you were going down 30-35 miles per hour, depending on your skill set. The same flat mile and change waited for us towards the end. These were not rollers, these were mountains, some had an 8% grade, maybe more. One after the other, after the other. They would never stop.
As I mentioned before, the best decision I made prior to arriving, actually once I registered for the race, and because of the recommendation of a friend, was to rent a local bike. A road bike. For me, a tri bike would have been useless. I would not have been able to ride aero at all. I did see a few folks riding aero. I was hoping and praying they had the necessary skills to navigate those roads, at those speeds. From what I've heard, only one crash of any consequence was reported. No serious injuries, however.
I am happy and proud to report that due to my training, well, due to where I train and how I train, I did not have to get off my bike seat, not once, not at all. However, I must be honest and confess that at times I thought it might be needed in order not to tip over. But I did not. It was a pride thing. I wasn't about to stand, much less get off my bike. But then, I started wondering if my running legs were getting hurt with all this power I was having to output. We would soon find out.
The transition from bike to run was like the transition from swim to bike, one with no consequence, and pretty uneventful. Just the way I like it. All my gear was there, right where I left it. I was only concerned with was the condition of my legs. What did I have left?
The run was a 'short' 8-mile run. This appeared to be the good news after the monster bike. 8 miles we could do on any given at, at any given time. I left transition and quickly found my way to the first change of terrain. We were introduced to a section of a sand-gravel mixture which ran along the beach, which made the surface softer, this was welcomed by the tired legs. Then around mile two, someone with a great sense of humor thought it would be a good idea to run us up winding, narrow, two-way wooden stairs. I did not know about these. This was a total surprise. Onward.
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| Photo Credit: Pamela Stone-McCoy |
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| Photo Credit: Pamela Stone-McCoy |
The next couple of miles were steep downhills headed towards the beach. This would lead us through very soft, wet sand and into the infamous "sand ladder". They were everything that was advertised and then some. In my opinion, they are in need of some TLC. They appeared to be in disrepair, which made the trek up the 400+ stairs a trek and a half. Mid-point up, my left leg began to cramp, so I stretched it for a bit, and continued. Cramp went away. It took me 5:11 to climb these. I bit longer than expected, not sure what I expected.
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| Photo Credit: Pamela Stone-McCoy |
The entire run course covered every terrain possible. Asphalt, gravel, sand, dirt, etc. And if you didn't know any better, you could believe that you were competing in an obstacle course, complete with tunnels. Perhaps I can mark this off as my first trail run!
My legs have not felt this good in a triathlon run in a very long time. After all the bike abuse and even more abuse in the run, I was still plugging along during the last mile and headed to the finish line.
I could hear the announcer from a couple of blocks away. As each person crossed the line, he would call their names. I found myself alone in the finishers chute. I couldn't wait to cross that line and hear my name, not so much to hear my name, but to validate that I had indeed, Escaped.
Apparently, the announcer stepped away from the mike, for when I finished I heard nothing. Silent. Oh, well. Got my medal and walked away. Some two to three minutes later, he rambled off the names of some six or seven finishers, including mine. Better than nothing, I guess.
Conclusion and Take Aways.
The race was everything I had expected. It lived up to all the hype and expectations. If you believe, as I did, that the epic swim is all there's to this race, you are sadly mistaken. The whole tamale was epic. Every turn, every step, every breath brought you a new sense of awe.
I have finished some pretty tough races and events. Ironman races, Goofy and Dopey Challenges, The Flying Monkey Marathon X5 amongst others, and in my humble opinion and without disrespect to any of these, this is tougher and more rewarding than any of those ever were. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I was able to reach a goal of massive proportions and I was able to prove to myself that with grit and guts and a huge sense of adventure, I can, and I did.
I can not walk away from this without thanking those that made this whole thing possible. My extremely understanding and supportive wife, Monica. My two loving daughters Juliana and Marcela, who never question for a moment my sanity. My grandson Colton, who constantly tells me how proud he is.
And there's my tribe. The hundreds (literally) of family and friends from near and far that came along for the ride, all those that supported and encouraged me every step of the way. With that being said, I have to give a special shout-out to my very good friend, Kellie A. who's responsible for more than one of my shenanigans. To the extremely supportive, Jodi N., Leigh S., Shad H., Terry H., Amanda F., Max C., and Darron E. To Carrie C. and Emily Z. who felt the sickness in their stomachs, one that I should have felt, I'd like to thank you for taking one for the team.
To my teammates at Big Sexy Racing and our sponsors; Ownway Apparel, Zone3USA, Infinit Nutrition, and Bonk Breakers. Y'all are amazing. I thank you!
And last but not least, to my swim coach Ashley W. You had faith, more than I ever had, and this was contagious. You showed me with incredible skill what I could do, and how I could do it. You had the patience of Job, I'm sure I drove you crazy at times. Your instructions were ingrained in my mind and I hit 'play' over and over again during this race. Thank you for giving so much of your time to helping me reach my goal.
What comes next? What adventure could top this one? I don't know. It's hard to imagine. But, if there's something out there, I'm sure I'll find it.
"Amazing happens when you set a goal and put your mind to it"
