Our Escape From Alcatraz
I can describe to you all better the reasons we dreaded doing the 1.5 mile Alcatraz swim, rather than words to describe the actual experience of it. Weeks leading up to it we feared the awful chill of the water, and the choppy waves made us sea sick just imagining them. Everyday we looked out onto the bay we shook our heads, thinking this was a bucket list check off only, and if we survive it without puking or crying we got off easy.
When 5am crept through the speaker of our phones, it found us awake already. We ate, we stretched, and we laughed. I walked Boo outside our apartment and felt the beginning of what became an amazing day: there was no breath of wind in San Francisco. But I did not dare trust this hope, and believed that it was on its way, as it usually is, just beyond the hillside. We parked our car by the aquatic park, jittery as we walked in the sunrise to check in. It was a beautiful, clear sunrise. We were in luck yet again: the sun came out for the race.
We looked out on the bay as we slide into our wetsuits, and nervously marveled at the amazing scene-- the waters were calm! And truly, it is rarely calm. Excitement filled us. This was going to be way better than we had imagined! 'Do not jinx it' said the knowing voice in the back of our heads, and we focused on the athletes around us instead. They were between the ages of 12-84, and some were obviously iron-man athletes. We were amongst inspiring individuals, as well as beginnings. And the fun energy was contagious. We were about to swim Alcatraz, and all the dread that once was melted quickly into a carefree happiness. Not only could we do this, we looked forward to doing it!
Walking through Fisherman's Wharf barefoot was equally fun. All the tourist shops still slept, and the roadside seafood stands were cooking up their displays for the day. Early risers videoed the group of 1,000 swimmers walking through the street toward the ferry, and some whispered their awe. Eleven countries participated in the this race and it marks the 55th anniversary of the infamous June 11th, 1962 escape of Alcatraz.
On the ferry we all came together in a clapping unison, and before I knew it, Jamie's hand left mine as we jumped into the water just beside Alcatraz. "Swim to the white boat and orange buoys", they said, but all we could do is look to Alcatraz. Or to the Golden Gate Bridge. Or to our destination: the large, impressive, and gorgeous rise of the city. We did not feel the 59 degree water, nor did the waves rock us. It was the best conditions we could've asked for, and the beauty of everything was worth all the nervous anticipation.
We got separated early on, as all bodies charged forward in a mess of arms and legs. Every breath was a treat, and the sights filled your mind rather than any sea creature (or shark) that could've possibly been under us. And before we knew it, the finish was within reach. It turned out to be one of the greatest races we have done, and we loved every minute of it! And of course, the Twizzlers that met us at the finish.
