Goodbye, Alcatraz!

An escape from Alcatraz swim?

Never thought of doing one.

But this winter was so cold that I achieved a level of cold tolerance. In past seasons of winter swimming, it was always torture, and I never adjusted. This winter I did.

In 2023, the coldest swim I did was February in San Diego. The water was 52°. How strange that the San Diego ocean, which is south so further from the currents that come down from Alaska, was colder than Los Angeles.

The winter tides had washed away the sand, exposing the true the landscape of the beach: rocks that tumbled and pummled you as waves broke on the shore. I had to charge into the freeze fast to get past the stones, with my heart rate escalating and adrenaline flowing.

I couldn’t get my face in the water that day. I only stayed in about 20 minutes. But it was exhilarating, physiologically satisfying. These challenges help my nervous system function better.

Here I am on that February morning, jumping for joy in my surfer’s wetsuit — slow and draggy for an ocean swimmer, but who cares? It’s cozy and stylish.

Later, the owner of a wetsuit shop explained to me that because I swam in a surfer wetsuit — which allows for water exchange unlike a triathlete wetsuit which sticks to your body and is coated to keep water out — I got significantly more cold exposure. That’s why I cold acclimated. My body had the stimulation to build that magical brown fat.

When the water off Southern California crept back up to 60°, it felt toasty. I switched to my thin spring wetsuit.

When it reached 70° during the summer, it felt too hot for exercise.

Hooray!

I’m ready to swim in the San Francisco Bay.

Financial District, San Francisco. 5:00 p.m.

My worn out, beat up, hand-me-down triathlete’s wetsuit checks into the hotel.

I haven’t used it since 2018. It never fit properly. Someone 5 inches shorter gave it to me.

Competitive wetsuits are high-tech garments with graduated insulation so you can move well and a special coating to reduce drag. I have never used it enough to think of replacing it with one that fits.

Aquatic Park. 5:30 p.m.

Race packet pick up at the South End Rowing Club on a glorious feels-almost-like autumn day.

It’s the club’s 150th anniversary. They successfully kept out women for the first 100 years.

I think I’ll jump for joy and take a quick practice swim.

No, that’s not a painting. It’s the view of Alcatraz Island from inside South End. Alcatraz is so close, I could probably throw a rock and hit it.

It’s only 1.27 miles away from here. The bay is shallow — about 45 feet deep and not at all shark infested.

More good news: today’s ocean temperature is a toasty 64°. Now I wish I had brought my lighter wetsuit.

Breakfast. 5:15 a.m.

From Deli Board located in a scary part of town.

Delicious!

South End Rowing Club. 5:30 a.m.

Headache level: Medium.

That’s where the finish line will be. Phew! That’s calmer than Lake Michigan. Finishing a race with no waves will be something to look forward to. I always worry about being out of breath, tired, and held under by the surf. I have respect for the ocean, as the LA County Lifeguards taught me in my youth.

Who swims these events?

Most of us are ex-swim team kids. Others are late-in-life swimmers, and many compete in triathlons. They rarely become confident, fast swimmers. You can’t replicate the skill that comes from childhood coaches making you drill swim stroke lap after lap and throwing swim fins at you when you swim poorly. I also had kind coaches who understood swimming as a form of dance and advised stopping to rest immediately when you are so tired your stroke falls apart.

My tri fiends are my happiest. There is no time for real problems when you have to manage all that equipment going from swim to bike to run. Plus they missed the childhood swim coach trauma.

Why are we here so early?

So they can scare us with race instructions.

Then we have to walk a mile walk to the ferry that will dump us in the ocean near Alcatraz Island. Too bad we don’t get to dig a tunnel, get shot at, and dive off a cliff to start the race.

The announcer:

If you want to use fins, please do. Whatever makes you comfortable. We are here to have fun. If you want to take a break and hang onto a kayaker, by all means. And do rejoin the race after your rest if you like.

The Bay Area is very inclusive.

Good news for me. I prefer to swim with my neoprene webbed gloves. Otherwise, the force of the water bends my hypermobile fingers backwards, and they hurt later. I don’t wear them in a race because I wouldn’t want someone to think I’m cheating. Paddle boarders are cheaters. Swimmers are not.

Plus, with my swim paddle mits, Mr. Pennington can pick me out of the field.

There will be two body counts going in and two body counts coming out to make sure no one is lost at sea. If you lose your timer strap or decide not to finish the race and go to brunch instead, please let someone know or the SFPD will be searching the bay for you.

A volunteer writes my entry number on my hands for the body counts. Glamorous sweatshirt gown by Lands End.

If the SFPD tells you to swim another way or you are medically removed from the field, you must comply.

Bossy up here!

The currents will push you one way, then the other.

Wait, what? I am not a chanel swimmer.

I am a parallel-to-the-shore swimmer. All we have to worry about is rip tides, which you escape by swimming parallel to the shore so we never get snagged in them anyway.

Once a pelican tried to land on my friend. That was weird.

Another friend got attacked by a crazed sea lion during the recent algae bloom. The sea lion couldn’t help it. My friend got the bite wound cleaned and swam 9 miles from Anacapa Island to the shore of Oxnard two weeks later. No need for a tetanus shot, we all learned. Sea lions don’t carry rabies.

We have 5 minutes to unload 600 swimmers then we have to clear away from the island.
You will jump in groups of three, going off starboard and port, every 5 seconds.
JUMP AND SWIM AWAY
JUMP AND SWIM AWAY
Okay?
Swim away before you fix your goggles so no one lands on you.

I have not jumped off a boat in years. I feel unprepared and afraid.

Now, let’s sing Happy Birthday to South End.
Anyone who would like to strip down and swim in their birthday suit to honor the club, please do.

Ah, San Francisco!

Alcatraz prison was difficult to escape. I don’t think the prisoners were allowed to train enough for their swims. Or wear a wetsuit. Or swim fins. Or have safety kayakers, safety swimmers, safety boats or the SFPD on jet skis. Who gets to do that job?

The sun rises.

The bagpiper leads us.

We process to the ferry — the same one that gives tours of the bay. Mr. Pennington is from Alaska, where no great swimmers come from. He’ll be taking my pic and holding my towel.

No alcohol service onboard this morning.

Smile! I am near shaking with fear and sweating in my too short wetsuit.

Alcatraz Island. 7 minutes and 47 seconds after the start.

It’s my turn. We each have a timer strap triggered when we cross a mat. I wonder if Mr. Pennington can hear me screaming?

JUMP AND SWIM AWAY

I’m the last of my threesome to launch. I only go because there was no room to turn back. The peer pressure of “JUMP AND SWIM AWAY” is too much.

I’m in.

The plunge into the water is delicious bubbliness. Not cold at all. My goggles are still on my head. Phew!

I backstroke away so I can watch.

Then I flip over and look up. Where TF am I going? They told us to site particular condo buildings, but all I see is a sea of buildings. Oh well. I hope the swimmers in front of me know where to aim.

The ferry pulls away, making a wide arc so as not to run us over.

It’s a beautiful morning. The water is lovely — clean and clear and I can see the bottom.

But man, am I tired!

This morning was too stressful. I’m exhausted from the standing, the walking, the long wait. This wetsuit is adding resistance to every stroke. The water looks calm but there are tiny swells that slap you in the face so I swallow a lot of water.

Oh well.

It always takes me 1/4 mile to warm up. Maybe I’ll feel better in a bit.

I’ll swim like a tourist today and enjoy the scenery.

Every time I look back at Alcatraz Island, it is smaller. And in a different location! Okay, so that’s the currents pushing me back and forth.

Hey, I can see those condos by the finish line!

A kayaker and I smile at each other.

I watch the SFPD jet skier chase down a lady who is swimming off course. I chat with another swimmer about how gorgeous the day is. We are lucky to be here. I’m sad it’s almost over.

Near the end I have horrendous calf cramps, as I usually do in races. They are so severe, my calves will be sore for the next week.

“Sciatica,” my physical therapist will tell me later. Really? That can cause actual cramping?

“More core for you!” She tells me. As if we do much of anything else.

Meanwhile On Shore

Mr. Pennington is ready with the camera. It’s festive and happy.

The first swimmers arrive.

A duck enjoys his Saturday morning swim, stubbornly ignoring us. A swimmer swims right into him. They tangle. Mr. Duck takes flight but comes right back to float by the shore. No stopping him.