There's a very active Internet news group, called rec.sport.triathlon (RST), on which people trade advice on training & equipment, and also post reports about the races they've been in. Compared to the commercial publications, which focus on what the top professionals are doing, RST is frequented by people who focus more on participating than winning. They worry about how to fit in their training while maintaining career and family commitments. As a consequence, I find their advice and stories far more interesting and useful than those of people who have nothing to do other than to train for 6 hours per day.
Among the most intriguing race stories were ones about the Alcatraz Triathlon, so named because the swim goes from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco. It's hard to imagine a more unique setting for a swim! Although conventional wisdom holds that no prisoners could escape from Alcatraz by swimming, the reality is that with training, a wetsuit, and the right tide conditions, it's really not that hard.
As my Summer schedule began to solidify, a most amazing alignment of dates occurred. I had to be in Las Vegas from June 3-7 for the Design Automation Conference, in San Jose June 10-11 visiting Fujitsu Laboratories, and the Alcatraz Triathlon was to be held this year on June 9! (It varies every year according to tidal conditions). Although it would be tough to be away from my family for such a long time, it seemed like it was my destiny to participate in this event!
I also experimented with sports nutrition. Endurance athletes eat on the go, especially squeeze packets of a pudding-like substance called "GU". I had to learn to balance my caloric needs with my stomache's reluctance to process foods under those conditions.
I bought myself a wetsuit designed particularly for swimming. There were no opportunities to swim in open water around Pittsburgh, so my only test swims were in the pool. I learned that 1) the added flotation of a wetsuit improved my swim times by around 15%, and 2) swimming in 80 degree water in a wetsuit makes you feel like a pot roast.
Of course, the rest of my life didn't stand still while this was going on. In particular, we moved to a new house in early May, which compounded the usual end of term stresses.
As the time to leave approached, I boxed up my bike and sent it to the hotel by UPS. What a great service! For a very reasonable price, you avoid the difficulties of getting the bike to & from the airport, as well as paying the baggage surcharge the airlines add on for bikes.
I spent the week before in Las Vegas, one of my least favorite travel destinations. Sort of a blend of middle America, Sodom & Gomorrah. Daily temperatures were pushing toward 110 degrees, so I joined the hotel health club to ride their exercise bikes and run on their treadmills. What a strange experience to be in a mirror-covered room filled with people working hard to get nowhere. I didn't mind a week's worth, but it would drive me crazy to do this regularly.
Finally I arrived in San Francisco on Saturday, June 8. Put my bike together without a hitch, and took a test swim in Aquatic Park. The water was 59 degrees and quite choppy, but after the initial shock, I could swim it quite comfortably. Had the luxury of a quiet evening and an early bedtime.
Race day arrived. I woke up at 4am raring to go. Had some extra time, so I practiced taking off my wetsuit. The previous day I had flopped around on the beach like a wounded walrus trying to pull the thing off---not a good thing to do in a race. I found the secret was to apply an ample coating of nonstick cooking spray to my legs before suiting up---a tip I'd learned from RST, and for which I'd brought a can in anticipation.
Checked in at 5am. One challenge of triathlons is that you need to be prepared for the transitions between the different events. You need to carefully plan what you'll need for each leg. This was an especially tricky one, since there were to be two different running legs. I'd set up the run #1 to bike and the bike to run #2 transitions the previous day, but here I needed to do the swim to run #1. At 6:15, we sang the Star-Spangled Banner, marched along Fisherman's Wharf and boarded the ferry they'd chartered to Alcatraz. On board it looked like a convention for rubber fetishests, with everyone decked out in black neoprene wetsuits topped by bright yellow swim caps. I even met up with some of the RST regulars. It's a strange experience to meet someone you only know electronically.
The boat circled around the back side of the island, where they had us jump off and proceed to the imaginary start line formed by a row of sea kayaks. I had bypassed the long lines for the bathrooms on board the ferry, figuring I would just adjust the PH level of the Bay a bit before the race began. Unfortunately, all my years of conditioning to "hold it" made it very difficult to let go. I treaded water for a few minutes and finally got relaxed enough to get things going when the horn sounded---the race had begun!
Navigating was a challenge, though. Normally, the shortest path between two points is a straight line, but not here. There's a significant current flowing out through the Golden Gate. It's especially strong this year due to the snow runoff from the Sierras flowing into the South Bay and then out to sea. I'd been advised to aim for the Transamerica Tower, well to the East of our actual target. I tried that most of the way, but I felt strangely alone for most of the swim. Every time I looked up, I would see people to the left, right, ahead, and behind me, so I didn't find any cause to change course. As I got closer to San Francisco, though, I figured I should adjust my course toward the West. What I hadn't fully appreciated, though, was that the current became much stronger near the land. I ended up slightly West of my destination, and had to swim against the current to get around the breakwater and into Aquatic Park. I was off by only 20 yards, or so, but it took several minutes to go that distance against the current. I could see others even further to the West who really had their work cut out for them. Finally got into the sheltered waters of Aquatic Park and swam to the beach. Time for the swim: 44:30. Better than I'd expected! Slid the wetsuit right off, put on my glasses and running shoes (laced with elastic to avoid wasting time tying bows), buckled on a hip pack with a supply of GU and drinking water, and headed off on run #1.
The purpose of run #1 is to get from the swim exit in Aquatic Park to the bike start in the Presidio, a distance of about 2 miles. Just for fun, though, they had us run out to the end of the breakwater and back before we headed West. Wow, look at all the people downcurrent from the breakwater opening! Some were caught in current so strong they couldn't make headway against it. The sea kayaks which served as our escorts were giving tows back up. Usually you get disqualified when such assistance is rendered, but we'd been told in advance they wouldn't in this case. In fact, these people had already lost a lot of time in the swim. Besides this, the run was uneventful. I consciously set a moderate pace, thinking about all that lay ahead. Finally arrive where the bikes are racked. Swap shoes, put on helmet and go. Total time since leaing the water: 24:33. Hmm, must have been a bit more than a 2 mile run there.
The biking was fun. The course involved some significant climbs, and some screaming downhills, but that's basically the kind of riding I do in Pittsburgh. I'd noticed the day before that my somewhat decrepit, 20 year old, steel-framed racing bike looked pretty shabby compared to the carbon fiber wonder bikes many were riding. I'd seen these in magazines before, with price tags ranging up to $5000, but it was quite sight seeing so many in one place. A number of these went whooshing by as I rode along, but after the turnaround, I saw a number were still behind. I was doing just fine. My main concern was to hold back enough for the run. We finally descend the last hill, roll along the flats to Crissy Field and enter the bike area. Total time for the ride: 59:57, right on target.
Park the bike, swap shoes, glug down some water and start running. Ooh, my legs don't feel very good. This is one of the most difficult parts of triathlons. Your legs feel like concrete posts, your back doesn't want to straighten, but you've got to run! Fortunately, I'd practiced this transition many times, and I knew that things would settle down in a few minutes. I also knew that this was going to be a slow run. At best, I'd maintain a 9 minute per mile pace. But hey, the views are spectacular, and I've got a big part of the race behind me. The run course contains just about every kind of terrain imaginable---flat streets, hilly streets, steep and narrow trails, even several sections of beach sand. I've trained for this, though (except for the beach sand), having purposely done lots of hilly trail running. Don't feel great, but I'm doing OK. One racer from Charlotte, NC and I run together & talk for a while. Says he's raced in 40 triathlons, usually turning them into family vacations. I found, in fact, that many people had come a long ways to participate in this race. Talked some about the Steelers. Last year was the first time in my life I'd watched the Super Bowl, and I've found it came in handy at times like this. We reach the turnaround point, but I let him go on. This problem that starting before the swim has gotten intolerable. I duck into some bushes and spend what seems like an eternity draining myself out. Ah, that feels much better. My ankles start to hurt. All this uneven terrain and downhill running has put quite a stress on them. I know I'll pay for this tomorrow, but there's nothing I can do now. The run back seems much further than it did going out. I'm starting to feel wiped out, but finally we reach the final flat section. They route us through more beach sand, but I still manage to pick up the pace just enough to pass a few runners. Not nearly the number that had passed me during the run, but it's good enough for me. Finally, I reach the finish line and run through. Time for the last transition + run: 97:09. Oops, I'd hoped to break 90 minutes.
Total time: 3:46:19. Hey, I made it! I even went under 4 hours. I felt very thirsty and ravenously hungry. Fortunately, they had a variety of refreshments available. Best of all, they had a tent where volunteers were giving massages. Just what my legs needed. Found out I'd finished 167th overall, 148th among all men, and 25th among men 40-49. There were close to 500 competitors overall, and I felt quite pleased to be 1/3 of the way back.
I hung around the race area for a while, talking with some of the RST regulars. Then I had to get back to the hotel in time for a 2pm checkout. Quite a trick to ride a racing bike while carrying a wetsuit, running shoes, and assorted other gear. Back at the hotel, I called home to say that I was still alive, took a quick shower, packed the bike back into its box, and got out just in time. The front desk arranged for the UPS shipment back home, and I drove down to Santa Clara for the next leg of my trip. My escape from Alcatraz was complete.
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