Escape From Alcatraz 2010

            The vibrations from the boat engines starting brought me back.  I guess I had dozed as I lay on the deck of the San Francisco Belle waiting for the trip to the rock.  I again recognized the rumble of voices around me as some of the hundreds of participants chatted. The boat eased away from the pier.

             The sun was bright; the bay was flat.  It looked to be a great day.  For the first time in a long time, 1,277 days, I was going to join in a real triathlon.  I had spent years attempting to forget that triathlon existed, of being dragged to some races, of being envious of those participating and resenting that I couldn’t join in.  I didn't know how much triathlon meant to me until I couldn't do it anymore.

             As I was recovering from my leg fracture in 2006, I thought I would be back in 2007. Oh well, one year, could be worse.  Then it got worse:  My broken femur had been assembled incorrectly and at Christmas, 2006, I had the choice of never running again or having it broken in surgery for a second time.  Not much choice there: two surgeries in successive days and I went through the recovery a second time.  I thought I’d be ready in 2008 but that didn’t happen.  My leg was slow to heal and so the hardware could not be removed until late 2008.  I celebrated the removal and just knew that 2009 would see my return.  Not quite.  On April 25, 2009, a car pulled out of a concealed driveway right in from of me while I was riding my bike.  The crash broke a bunch of bones in my hand, cut up my knee and also bruised the femur.  No running for at least six months.  The 2009 season was gone.

             But now, at last, admittedly out of shape but more than willing, I was on my way to Alcatraz to do a race I had done six times before.  I had no expectations, no goal times, no pressure.  Even being last would be so much better than not being in it at all.

             The boat made its usual circle around the rock and, at 8 a.m., faced the City front as the pros went off heading directly for the yacht club building.  I knew there would be a big current so I headed for the Ft. Mason piers and let the current carry me west. It worked perfectly.  I hit the beach at 34 minutes, which is pretty good for 1.5 miles. (Everyone was fast that day).

              Matters soon went downhill, as I knew they would.  T1 includes getting the wetsuit off, shoes on, running a half mile to the bikes and then going out onto the course. Compared to my last Escape 5 years ago, I was really sluggish.  I was 59 then and had been training consistently since 1997.  Time, damage and inconsistent training slowed me. 

             The bike is almost incessant climbing with swift descents.  Those who hadn’t passed me before, did so on the bike.  That’s ok.  I was doing my best and enjoying the great views, beautiful weather and hard work.  I particularly enjoyed passing others on the descents even though most of them passed me on the next ascent.

             Back in T2, running shoes on, I was off.  Way off.  Running off the bike just wasn’t working.  It turned into a run/walk. The run goes out Crissy Field, up under to Bridge, down to Baker Beach and back.   It took a long time, more than 30 minutes longer than my last run here 5 years ago.   Still, it was great to get a big cheer from the crowd as I entered the finishing chute.  I knew they were cheering for me because no other participants were there.   When the announcer called my name, he said I was 63 but looked like I was 49.  I wish!  But it didn’t matter.  I finished my first tri since 2005.  I didn’t hurt too much.  It will get better.

             IMG took this race over from TriCalifornia and ran it was quite well.  The pre race meeting was about the same but the registration was a bit congested and slow.  The busses took us to the pier just as before.  Same boat, same course, same bay.   About the only difference was that there were no prayers before the race started.  I can live with that.