I barely even heard the alarm, as I was up and out of bed within a mere second of it alarming. It was 4:30 AM, and I was ready. Oh, was I ever so ready.
By 4:45 AM, I was on my bike and riding to the Marina Green. In pitch darkness. Throughout the entire ride, all I could really remember was AER's retelling of her Escape last year, and how amazing the entire day was. I cannot remember ever wanting to race so badly - 10K, Marathon, Relay, or Triathlon. At barely 5:00 AM, I couldn't wait to get in the water!
I set up my transition in about three minutes, wondering the entire time, why the hell this step used to take me so long. I was on the bus by 5:15 AM and headed to Pier 3, where I would wait for a couple of hours before getting on the San Francisco Belle to head to Alcatraz. For the next hour and a half, I had no nerves - I made friends and chatted, sipped coffee and stretched, peed, peed, and peed.
By 7:00 AM, nearly two hours after arriving on the scene of The Escape, we FINALLY felt like we were going somewhere. We boarded the the San Francisco Belle and set out for Alcatraz. I peed six more times. Talk about excitement! We did a loop around the island, and I had a perfect window seat to take it all in.
Finally, after what felt like days, and I'm pretty sure one more trip to the bathroom to pee, the Pros made their way onto the dock. We sang the Star Spangled Banner, and all of a sudden, we were counting backwards from ten. The Pros were climbing over the deck to dive into the water, the rest of us, still inside the boat, were SCREAMING. Excitement!!!
"DUDE, I GOTTA PEE AGAIN!"
But the horn sounded, the pros dived in, and next thing I knew, the race directors were yelling at us to get in the water. I had barely a minute between the horn and my entry into the water. Just enough time to get my goggles in place, but no time at all to second-guess what I was about to do. Alcatraz to my right and San Francisco straight ahead, I jumped into The Bay and started swimming.
The Bay's 55 degree water didn't even feel cold. The people swimming on top of one another didn't feel stifling. That ridiculously strong current? Well, it didn't eat me. I swam pretty well, I think. I didn't really see a kayak, proof that my sighting was right on. If anything, I was a little too conservative with my line. Nearly 15 minutes into the swim, I realized I should probably be heading further to the west. I started to worry that this swim was going to take me a long time. But eventually, I was at the St. Francis Yacht Club.
"HOLY SHIT, I SWAM FROM ALCATRAZ!"
I felt the sand under my feet, and started running. I was kind of afraid to look at my watch, but as soon as I did, I saw that it was only 8:37 AM. Meaning, I had done the swim in about 35 minutes. I have never really enjoyed running after swimming, but on Sunday, I didn't even have to dig that deep! I took off my wetsuit, put on my T1 sneakers, and started running the half mile back to the transition.
I heard Mountain Man and AER while coming out of the water, and I saw my parents on the run back to the transition. Finally at my bike, I started to get ready to bike. But not first before sitting in the grass and peeing. I know, it's EMBARRASSING, but I couldn't pee in the water, and I had to pee before getting on that bike. So, I gave the most powerful powersquat of all time.
And then I started riding. For an 18 mile ride, the bike course for The Escape is brutal. It feels like the entire ride is uphill. And because there is virtually NO wave start to this race - all 1800 athletes enter the water in six minutes - I couldn't really tell how I was doing. I was riding with plenty of men, but hardly any women. My mind started racing...
Was I so slow that all the other 25-29 year old females were ahead of me? Or was I doing so well that I was ahead of them? Where the hell were the women?
Luckily, I had done this ride a few times. I was expecting the 18 miles to take me about an hour and 20 minutes. Up the steep hills into the Presidio. Up the long upgrade to Legion of Honor, and continuing, still climbing, up Clement towards the Pacific Ocean. I finally reached the Great Highway and turned into Golden Gate Park, and before long, I reached the halfway point. I had been on the bike for 35 minutes, meaning my roundtrip would take about an hour and ten minutes, way faster than my expectations.
So, I decided I was racing well. And from that point on, I couldn't stop smiling. Even up the Great Highway Hill by the Cliff House, and those two treacherous little big hills before Clement. I cruised through Sea Cliff, back up into the Presidio, and finally, back down towards Marina Green to the transition. By now, the crowds were really growing. I could see all of my friends lined up to cheer me on, and it felt fabulous.
I made it through T2 in decent time, not pushing myself too much, as I knew I had 8 miles - and lots of hills - ahead of me. I really can't think of a run I hate more than a run that comes after a bike ride, but I have learned I run better if I give myself some time to ease into things. So I started slow. I breezed past my friends and family, who cheered their hearts out for me, and headed out towards the Golden Gate Bridge.
I have never raced a course like this triathlon run before. Trail. Steps. Single-track. Edge of cliffs. Pacific Ocean. TONS of people. Remember, there is no wave start, and this 5 foot 3 inch girl was running with a lot of men. Men who were about six feet tall with long legs. It was a very crowded run, especially for a single-track course (on a cliff, above the Pacific Ocean) that is being used for both the OUT and the BACK.
There were few passing opportunities, but I ducked through all those Daddy Long Legs when I could. I'll be honest, I didn't have many opportunities to pass. And I'll be really honest - it didn't really matter. I think I ran pretty well, even up those never ending hills and stairs. Until we got to Baker Beach. Seriously - they make you run ON THE BEACH. And it's not like there's any packed sand here. The entire beach run - about a half mile or so? - is in loose sand. For the first time in the race, I started to feel miserable.
It wasn't that long of a beach run. But it wasn't over yet. The sand ladder was waiting for me. These race directors are EVIL. All the articles I had read before the race said to not even TRY to run the sand ladder. So I didn't try. Hundreds of steps. Lots of people. SAND. I held the railing and just tried to walk up the steps as quickly as possible. Without dying. It was another portion of the race during which passing people was not an option, but at that point, I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of the sand.
Nearly four minutes later, I reached the top of the sand ladder. Then I had only a little bit more to run before REALLY reaching the top of the hill. And afterwards, it was time to cruise back down to sea level and The Marina Green. So I picked up the pace, knowing that I had barely a 5K left until the Finish Line. It was a long 5K, but with every step, the spectators kept telling me I only had a little further to go.
And soon enough - seriously, it felt soon - I made it off the packed sand and back to the road, only a half mile to go until the Finish Line. I ran past my friends and family, SO HAPPY. For having such wonderful people in my life to support me. For the amazing race that I was about to finish. For that race to be OVER. For the day to be so beautiful.
As I rounded the corner into the finish chute, I saw that the race clock read 3:06. I couldn't believe it. For months, people had been asking me how I thought I would do in this race, and I honestly couldn't answer. I figured my time would be somewhat comparable to my time at Wildflower, but only if I had a really good swim. And a really good bike. And a really, really good run. It was amazing to cross that finish line feeling SO HAPPY. And GRATEFUL. And STRONG.
And now, a couple days later, I sit here wanting to do it all again. The day could not have been more perfect, and it absolutely embodied my favorite outlook on life.
Fear Less. Live More...
And Escape. From. Alcatraz.
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