There were four of us in our "group" doing South End Rowing Club's Escape from Alcatraz yesterday, September 17th. I use group lightly because it's impossible to stay close to one another, even on the ferries that took us to the island. In our group was myself, my uncle Mike, Grant, and his cousin Jessie. Here's the four of us before the race:
We all got to check in by about 6:30am, then had to wait around until they loaded us on a ferry at 8am. That's a long time for someone who had been awake since about 3:30am panicking about this race (that would be me). At any rate, they finally herded us on board and took off. Mike and I stayed on the second floor of the ferry for the whole ride, since it was indoors and we're both in shorty wetsuits. It takes a lot more energy to keep yourself warm with what amounts to shorts and a t-shirt on...and I could see my breath on the ferry. At least the sun was out and there was no wind and pretty calm waters.When we got to the island, there was some sort of mix up with dropping something off/getting the ferries arranged into starting position. It wasn't totally clear since the intercoms on the ferry kept cutting out. We ended up getting a tour of the entire island, although I can't say I remember any of it. I was too busy worrying about what we were about to do. When everyone was finally in position, the ship blew its horn, and two guys at the doors to the ferry started to let people jump into the water, three at a time. We had lost Jessie by this time, so Mike and Grant and I got into a group and moved towards the doors. We were actually some of the first few people off the boat. I remember the people in front of us jumping, then the doormens' arms blocking the way, then the arms were gone and we were free to jump. My mind went off at that point, and rather than falter I took off out the door. I entered the water one or two steps in front of Grant and Mike, although I saw them take off to my right and head for Aquatic Park. When I jumped in, I barely sank more than 6 inches under the water. My wetsuit made me buoyant, and since I had taken a "step off" jump, I barely sank at all. Honestly, I don't remember the temperature of the water. So many nerves made me immune to cold for the entire race.
In the emails we received before the event, the race committee pointed out landmarks that we should aim for depending on our speed. Fast swimmers aimed for the Fontana Towers, directly behind the entrance to the Park. "Scenic" swimmers aimed for the red roofed buildings west of Aquatic Park, and medium swimmers aimed somewhere in between those two landmarks. Grant and Mike said they aimed somewhere in the middle and took off. I counted myself as a Scenic Swimmer, since I didn't want to kid myself and risk getting pushed too far east of the entrance to the park by the current.
I discovered something very important in myself during this race: I do not like deep water. At least not deep water where you can't see the bottom and there's no one for 100 yards on any side of you. It's very disconcerting to be in that kind of predicament. After leaving the ferry, I swam breaststroke away from the ferry and tried to orient myself. I also tried to catch my breath, not from the cold water, but from the fear that took over my mind as soon as I was away from the ferry. It was the same kind of panic that took over me when we did a test jump on July 4th (see the video a few posts ago). Of course, that one was due to cold, but the effect was the same; it took every ounce of rational brain I had to keep myself from immediately waving my hands and yelling for someone to get me out of the water no more than 5 minutes after I had jumped in (there were kayaks and coast guard people patrolling the water and looking for anyone with an arm up who needed assistance). I did heads-up breaststroke away from the boat. I tried to stick my face in the water and do freestyle, but it terrified me to not be able to see anything - the water is murky so I couldn't see anything beneath me, and with my face down I couldn't keep track of the all-important red roofed buildings that were suppose to be the guideposts that kept me from swimming too far in any direction and prevent me from missing the entrance to Aquatic Park, and shore.
I did heads-up breaststroke almost the entire way. I can't deny it. There was a small part of my brain that was aware of what was going on. I was aware that it was ridiculous that I couldn't put my face in the water and swim freestyle the way I had been training to all summer. (A moment for the irony here: I don't have the exact number of miles I swam since graduating in June, but it is safe to say that I averaged 5 miles in the pool every week. Some weeks were more, with the max I swam at any given time without stopping was 2 miles of freestyle. That is approximately 140 laps. Non stop. No problem. But at any given day in the pool, I swam a hair over a mile, and did maybe 10 laps of breaststroke, with my head down, as a cool down. All in a leisurely 40 minutes. The actual distance of the race was only 1.25 miles, which is just another normal day in the pool for me. And yet when I got in the Bay and did this race, I swam heads up breaststroke just about the whole way. What a waste of training). Anyways, I couldn't bring myself to let my eyes wander from the red brick buildings, and from the kayaks in the distance and any remotely close swimmers. My instincts took over in a way that I've never experienced before. That small part of normal brain kept telling myself to put my face in the water and swim like I knew how to do. But the rest of my brain was terrified of letting those things that could save me (kayakers, fellow swimmers, and land) from my view. So I swam frantic breaststroke, with my face out of the water, most of the way. When I felt me legs start to tire (keep in mind that I'm panting with fear and actually talking to myself out loud here) I flipped over onto my back and did some backstroke. I totaled no more than 5 minutes on my back the entire time.
You get the picture: my instinctual brain took over. About half way across the bay, still facing the red buildings, I realized two things: 1. It doesn't seem like I've moved at all, in spite of my frantic swimming, for a while now. I had been glancing behind me to the island a few times, and I'd tried to gauge the distance traveled by the Golden Gate, but for a bit there I didn't feel like I'd moved. 2. I'd only been told the direction to point as a "Scenic Swimmer". No one ever told me when to turn and point toward the entrance to the Park, where a big yellow buoy was lighting the way. So I did the only thing I knew to do: I faced the red buildings and swam breaststroke like my life depended on it (which it did) and I refused to turn towards the park. I focused all my energy on sighting the nearest swimmer ahead of me, then frantically swimming as fast as I could to them, just so that I wouldn't be so alone in the water. That was probably the worst part, being alone in the deep water. Once off the boat, we all spread out. Apparently I have separation anxiety in deep water.
There are, apparently, two sets of currents that operate in the bay. Near the island is the potato patch, so named because the underwater rocks get blasted by water, which causes the surface to be choppy (I didn't notice this - once in the water my brain shut off everything not immediately involved in keeping myself alive). A little ways off the island is a westward current that pushes water (and swimmers) towards the Gate. About half way across the Bay the current changes, and pushes water (and swimmers) Eastward, away from the gate. So no matter how hard I did breaststroke, I still got pushed toward the Park. Not enough, mind you. But enough that I ended up getting pushed near the concrete pier that forms the west barrier of Aquatic Park. It wasn't until I was maybe 20 feet from the concrete that I decided to make an entire 90 degree turn and start swimming towards the entrance to the Park. That little distance was easy since the strong current was pushing me from behind. Since I swam so close to the concrete, I ended up entangling myself in some seaweed, although by that point I was so on edge that it didn't scare me that way it normally would. Once inside the Park, it was only 400 yards to the shore and the black balloons that marked the end of the race.
Still, I didn't do much freestyle, just a little. I made it to the shore and was still wide eyed for a few minutes, until it occurred to me that I was safe. It took me 42 minutes, 24 seconds to swim the whole thing. Breaststroke. I wonder what it could have been if I had swam freestyle? We'll never know, since I'd rather run 100 miles than swim that again. (But I'll still be back in the pool, swimming my normal mile, by Tuesday. There's something about swimming laps that's addicting). Grant finished in 29 minutes (Woohoo!!) and Mike and Jessie finished somewhere in the 30 minute zone (Woohoo!!) So we all made it safely. Post race pictures:
Look at all the yellow caps coming into the Park!Here's another of Grant coming over the finish line. What a guppie!
It took me a little longer, but I'm running past the finish line here, 42:24 minutes after getting in the water.
Grant, Jessie and me proud of ourselves for finishing:
Sharing war stories after the swim. Look closely, my tongue is sticking out. The taste of the water is pervasive, and it just doesn't want to go away. 
Still wide-eyed... or as wide as they could be, after swimming what felt like forever and waking up at 3:30am.
A big thanks to everyone who came and supported our group, to my parents for driving me at the crack of dawn to San Francisco and then waiting patiently until I was done, and to my group of swimmers, all first-timers in the race, who made it across. Well done!P.S: just because I'm terrified of deep water doesn't mean you are. Get out and swim the Escape from Alcatraz!
http://www.south-end.org/invitational/
P.P.S: the count is now 16 days until our plane takes off from SFO...
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