The Ironman

Ironman Los Cabos

Baja California, Mexico, March 17, 2017

Event #8 of 10

A 2.4 mile open water swim, followed by a 112-mile bike ride and finally a full 26.2 mile marathon. 

I could fill a page with details about times, pacing and such, but it would be beside the point. 

The first woman President of an African country said in a Harvard commencement: “If your dreams do not scare you, they’re not big enough....The size of your dreams must always exceed your current capacity to achieve them. … If you start off with a small dream, you may not have much left when it is fulfilled because, along the way, life will … make demands on you." (Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Liberia) 

For me the Ironman was new territory, my dream 'bar' set high. Going the distance was my primary objective: all 140.6 miles to the finish line. 

Just prior to the Ironman, the San Francisco Chronicle wrote about my journey in the Sunday Sports:

Standing on the beach, the Ironman had finally arrived. Jitters? Yes. Ready to get started? Yes.

The 2.4-mile Swim Leg
After changing into wetsuits and swim gear, some 1,400 athletes were massed on the beach, awaiting the 7 am start blast to scramble into the water and start the swim. Facing east in the Sea of Cortez, the bright rising sun was blinding at that same moment. 

Exiting the swim, rushing to bike.

I tried locating myself at the back of the pack, but others arrived behind me. When the gun went off at 7 am, there was a bit of chaos. Unfortunately, moments after starting, big waves hit our start area (which with the sun and excitement, I never saw), and I soon found myself swept back with swimmers on top of me and others underneath me. No one got hurt, but it was unsettling. 

I told myself to calm down, that I could do this, that I had a 'job' to do -- and soon found my rhythm and was off to the first red buoy. 

The 2.4 mile course was a huge rectangle marked by red buoys (part of which is visible in the bike photo below). 

Given my newbie swimming skills in challenging open water waves, contant sighting of the next buoy was what I should have been continually focused on. By the time I finished just over 2 hours later, my watch told me I had swam my longest distance ever (nearly 2.6 miles) thus wasting minutes and energy on the extra 0.2 miles that I swam. But no time to fret. Off to the next leg.

The Bike 112-mile Leg

My pre-check bike gear bag had my shirt with race number on the back, shorts, socks, shoes, helmet and a belt with 2 snap-on squeeze containers filled with a recommended caloric replenishment liquid I brought from the US, as well as salt pills and ibuprofen (if needed).

Bike staging. Red buoys show short side of rectangular swim. (Click to enlarge.)

The long leg towards Cabo San Lucas was hilly, and in the bright desert sun, 80's for the entire ride.

Somewhere on first leg.

Mexican Route #1 is a 4-lane divided highway between San Jose del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas.  On race day, 2 lanes were closed for the Ironman bikers. Lots of hills, with slowed traffic on the adjacent 2 lanes sharing 1 lane each -- but quite a mobile cheering section as a result, along much of the route.

Route #1 had lots of hills along the entire way. But the most steep hills were on the following leg to and from the airport on a toll highway that was closed for the Ironman.

In the midpoint of the bike ride, I retrieved by numbered-nutrition bag to pull out 2 of my food bottles to swap for those I'd consumed, and pick a few items off the food table (including some delicious Quaker butter and pineapple cookies). I was probably off the bike 2-3 minutes in total -- only 'stop' I took.

The aid stations were great and amply staffed with 'runners' who made it easy to switch water or gatorade bottles without stopping. When I discovered the water bottles even had ices cubes, I began dumping one over my hemet to keep cool at all the following aid stops.


Not the easiest bike course. 6,000 feet of elevation gain for the entire ride, and apparently one of the toughest bike segments of all the Ironman venues. Fortunately, Bicycle Odyssey of Sausalito sponsored me by lending a Giant TSR bike (instead of my vintage 1992 bike, used in the Death Ride). Current technology does make a difference.

Because the bike course consisted of 2 loops, virtually all the bikers passed me at least once, so I got so see up close the top athletes, all kinds of amazing bikes, not to mention the colorful fashions and  incredibly fit (and usually young) athletes that somehow managed to 'effortlessly' pass me. With 5-year age groups clearly marked on all athletes' calves, at least it was easy to see how old everyone was as they passed (and their names and countries, displayed on competitor bibs pinned on the back of everyone's jersey).

A long, hot, hilly bike ride. On the last 30+ miles, I picked up the pace with what I had 'left' and managed to pass scores of bikers -- see one ahead, pass 'em, pick a new target....I had never ridden as fast or as consistently tuned-in to the gearing, body position, leg turnover, use of aerial bars for lowering my profile and wind resistance, including my being out of the saddle pushing the hills at every opportunity. Just over 10 hours after the swim start, it was time (finally) to get on with the run.

The 26.2-mile Marathon
I have run many marathons, but none following a long swim and an even longer bike ride. I knew I had extra time or 'margin' for error, because all I needed was to finish before midnight.  Heck, I had over 6 hours to do so and had never gone over 5 hours prior. And running was my strong event. Simple, no?

The marathon course consisted of 3 identical loops meandering through the heart of colonial San Jose del Cabo and some residential areas. Near the start, the course soon passed the finish line, with a divided 'shoot' : straight to the finish, and to left for more loops. By the time I started, there were people being announced as they finished. Off I went on loop 1 at a conservative slow pace, an easy jog until I got my legs moving OK.

There were great crowds of natives and tourists cheering in large numbers, all along much of the marathon route. I remember distinctly people cheering me on me that I had only a mile to go (when in fact I was nearing just the end of my 1st or 2nd of the 3 loops for the marathon).

The aid stops were also well placed and frequent, with lots of volunteers offering specially-filled water bags, gatorade, cups of Pepsi Cola, pretzels, salted peanuts, cookies, PowerBar choices, cut bananas and more.

Given I was in uncharted territory for me, I drank at nearly every opportunity, and ate something whenever I could  manage to do so as well. Once I started running, I had a fear of stopping resulting in muscle spasms.  I saw and passed many people walking -- and just wanted to keep moving.

During the midpoint, I was moving along at a steady pace, and passing lots of people. Some another athlete blew by me and yelled to me (in accented English) 'You are inspiring! Looking good.'  Didn't feel like I was 'looking good' but such comments helped. (He was in the 25-29 age group.)

On my 3rd loop, around mile 21, a lower back spasm hit me (first time ever), making my maintaining an efficient upright posture 'problematic'. Unfortunately, in the rush to change from biking to running, I also left behind my ibuprofen pills. But since my legs were OK, I was determined that no such back spasm was going to stop me from getting to the finish line, now some 5 miles away. But my 'margin' for the midnight cutoff was disappearing, as the last few miles were more 'speed walking' than racing.

All along those last miles, by then after 11 pm, I was asking people what time it was, and using the mile and kilometer markers to estimate my pace, recalculating what I needed to get there before midnight.

Finally, my 3rd time approaching the Finish line was a charm -- and before I even headed down the finish line chute I heard 'Eric Spector of the United States -- an Ironman' over the speakers.  Heading down the brightly lit and densely-crowded finish line, I was able to stop for the first time all day. And smile. And savor the moment.

Finish Line.

16 hours, 42 minutes and 46 seconds later. Plenty of people still finished after me. But as I was getting on to a message table (they had some 25 tables and masseurs set up, an awesomely nice detail) I heard the 'closing' of Ironman Los Cabos 2013. Ten minutes later, I got off the table -- and walked away upright.

Next was the challenge to get to and find my bike & clothing bags, and past midnight find a way back to my hotel, some 15 miles away. I got lucky, paid whatever the taxi asked, and upon arrival, had him find a hotel employee to bring over a luggage cart, get my bike and stuff on it -- and guide me to my room. By 1:30 am, after a drinking a bottle of water and lying down, I was down for the count.

Somewhere in the middle of the bike ride, this popped into my head and made me laugh: 

"Thou shalt be humbled by thee Ironman no matter thy training." 

There's truth to that fleeting thought. 

So far 8 finish lines out of 8 events. Just 2 more events to go until my birthday on May 5th and the Comeback65 year will be over.  

I plan to continue offering tips and links on Twitter @fitatallages to help motivate people getting or staying fit, so please pass the word. 

5 weeks of road-based training lie ahead. 

But heck, event #10 on my birthday is just a marathon, no?  

Kaiser San Francisco Half Marathon

Event #7 of 10

Sunday morning (Feb. 3, 2013) was a bright, sunny cool morning in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. Nearly 10,000 runners & walkers gathered for the Half Marathon and also a 5 Km distance -- but with all 10,000 starting at the same time. A colorful bit of mayhem, but in good spirits, well-mannered, with eager anticipation for the official start.

At 8:02 the masses headed to and past the starting line. It took me nearly 2 minutes to pass the start and then actually begin jogging, but quickly enough, the field thinned out enough to get going as desired.

The course circled through the beautiful, lush green Golden Gate Park, past gardens, fields, the museum row (both the de Young and California Museum of Science), a scenic waterfall, the idyllic Windmill and then out to the Great Highway that ran along the ocean -- with incredible views of the beach and waves.

On the Great Highway, it was an out and back, so we got to see the race leaders (both men and women) pass to our left, already on their return to the finish. Fun and exciting to watch, especially while you're still running your own race (also a humbling 'diversion').

My hope was to run the half marathon distance in under 2 hours -- and not get injured. I ran it at a good steady pace, but not all-out, at what is often called a 'tempo' pace.

My first lap was slow due to the masses, but subsequent 1-mile laps ranged from a slow of 9:04 to an 8:29, with the average of 8:55 per mile for the  entire 13.1 mile distance. My last mile I picked it up to an 8:32 and was grateful to pass many scores of runners at the end.

My 1:57 finish translates to a predicted full marathon finish time of 4 hours and 4 minutes -- which is OK for now, and would be just fine for Event #8.

And therein lies the 'big stretch', the unknown, the next event #8 -- just 6 weeks away, with a paltry 5 weeks of training left.

What I enjoyed greatly was my 2 days off for tapering for the half-marathon. No training, nothing on last Friday and Saturday, and even some extra sleep.

But that's over -- and until the week prior to the Ironman (event #8), every day must count. Running, biking, swimming, biking spin class, and even some stretching and weights. Every day at least one sport, and on several days even 2 workouts. But above all, not getting injured.

The Ironman consists of swimming 2.4 miles in the ocean (which will take me around 2 hours, depending on currents and waves), then a 112 mile bike ride (probably 8 hours, if I manage to average 14 MPH), and finally followed by a full 26.2 mile road marathon.

More to come in a future post, but you get the picture -- and why the 'big stretch' and unknown.

There's no way anyone can finish an Ironman without training, let alone at age 65 (which is a whole other matter). But for those interested, I'm keeping a daily log -- and can be viewed by clicking here.

Stay tuned. Event #8 is coming -- and way too soon.

50K of Trails

Woodside Ramble 50K Trail Run

(Event #6 of 10)

Arrived at Huddart County Park in Woodside in the early morning light of Saturday, December 15th. It was frigid outside and cloudy. After parking at the lower end of a big meadow, I crossed the ~400 yards of lush green open fields to the registration in a sheltered picnic area to pick up my number.

After doing so, I noticed another parking lot maybe 50 yards from the finish line and 'almost' went to move the car, anticipating the shorter distance from the finish line to the car. Fortunately I knew that was absurd, as I was there to run 31+ miles,  and what difference could a few hundred yards make (even if my legs were cramped)? Just pre-race jitters.

Probably 150 runners assembled on the lawn for the last-minute instructions. They were there for 4 events, with the 50K the longest and first to start. Excited chatter, with every strategy visible for dressing (tights, pants, shorts; long-sleeves, short-sleeves, vests, jackets; caps and thermal hats), as it was likely to start raining during the run.  My car was like a running closet of choices, but I decided to wear Nike compression shorts, a long sleeved shirt, a thin shell jacket, my woolen running socks, a pair of cotton gloves and a cotton cap.  Fortunately, given the changing weather, I had chosen well.

At 8:30, we took off beginning the 50K run.

I had set my Garmin GPS watch to alert me at each 3.1 miles (5K), so I had automated splits -- and more importantly, easy 'math' as I progressed. The alerts vibrated, made an audible sound, and displayed each lap's time for several seconds -- perfect for monitoring each 5K. Better yet, each split was 10% of the run. Easy math, easy progress noted.

From Crystal Springs Trail, the ascent to the top of the mountain began nearly immediately. Up and up and up, with innumerable switchbacks --  but all under a magnificent canopy of 2nd and 3rd generation redwoods. The trails were covered with the needle-like leaves of the huge redwoods.  Great running surface, spectacular scenery. Silence except for the winds, swaying giants and running water we crossed over or saw.

Around 5 miles, we were nearing the top, and then ran along Summit Trail for around 7 miles, with additional elevation gain. By then over 3 hours of running. A beautiful, wonderfully 'surfaced'  and meandering trail -- with also some sections washed out by heavy rains and some muddy, slippery crossings, but on the whole, great running.

Given minor muscle pulls of the prior months and my therefore limited running training leading up to the 50K, I ran conservatively, both in speed and keeping my stride short. My initial 5K splits going up the first summit were around 40 minutes. This was going to be a l-o-n-g day of running, and pulls would have reduced the chances of my finishing.

At around 6.2 miles (just after my 2nd 5K alert), I saw several pink Pelicans (plastic) on the trail ahead. Yes, plastic Pelicans, but a cute and welcome marker for an aid station up ahead. Water bottle refills, and choice of M&Ms, Oreo cookies, Peanut butter & jelly quarter sandwiches, salted pretzels, and lots more. In and out in minutes, but a very nice refresher. Lots of helpful volunteers and runners re-charging.

Just before our descent from the first summit began (mile 11), we arrived at another aid station. By then my water bottle was empty and the food choices seemed even tastier. The decent was on beautiful running trails. Easier running downward, but more risky, so again I reigned in the usual impulse to go faster and controlled my run downward.

By mile 16, after some 3 1/2 hours of running, we were again climbing the next summit, up and up and up. A 3rd aid station was mid-way up -- and oh-so welcome. By then, already just over 20 miles, P&J sandwiches never tasted so good -- with Oreo cookies as desert.

I had worn my regular watch also, so I'd get an alarm every hour to remind me to take a salt pill and drink. Cramping can be race-ending, but fortunately, the salt intake and constant drinking helped.

Still heading down from the second summit's ascent (entering Wunderlich County Park) the rains began. Light at first, then heavy -- but as we were mainly under an old growth canopy, it was more misty than a downpour. My shell and gloves which I had taken off prior, went back on -- and I stayed warm.

After the third aid station and having crested the summit at 20+ miles -- and with less than 11 miles to go -- I felt good and started picking up the pace.

Once I heard the 7th 5K beep/alert, with less than 10 miles to go, I extended my stride and let it rip. Anyone and everyone ahead of me, when they first came into sight became 'prey' and each and every one I reeled in and passed. Several, as though they were standing still.

One guy who I came up upon and saw my hat from 'The Relay' race that I had run 4 years ago (a 24-hour+ team race from Calistoga to Santa Cruz) started chatting about it (as he had participated with a team for the last 3 years). He mentioned he had only started running 5 years ago, later in life. I mentioned I had more than a few years on him, and he looked over and said 'not that many'. He was 52.  When I mentioned my age, I heard a 'wow'. Then I said 'good luck' and left him behind.

After the last aid station, I passed a runner my age who I had met on a Saturday run. He was walking. Coincidently, my watch had just alerted me to completing the 8th of the 10 5K's. He didn't know who was behind him, but heard me coming and asked if I knew how much farther until the end. When runners ask that, usually it's because they are hurting. Exactly 10K (6.2 miles) to go.

My 9th split was faster than most prior. Just after that next to last split,  I came to a fork in the trail -- and there were no visible markings (yellow plastic strips hung from trees), and alone at the time,  I went left. Big mistake. I should have doubled back, but didn't, and a few miles later, finally came across an unknown meadow.

Fortunately, in it was a public information display.  Unfortunately, the plastic on the display case was 'clouded' from age and condensation, and I couldn't read it. I ran after a biker that went by, stopped him and after 5 minutes wasted of describing where I wanted to get to, we both concluded he could be of no help. My luck I meet a guy clueless where he was biking.

I guessed the direction I needed to go and saw a jogger in the distance. Chased her down, and she fortunately knew exactly how to direct me back to where I was heading. Finally I found the trail. By coincidence the distance to the end was the same.

Had I not made the wrong turn, I might have finished just under 7 hours. As it was, my time was 7:17 (7 hours, 17 minutes) on my watch. The runner I had passed with just 10K remaining won 3rd in our age group -- 'almost' mine. No matter -- I wasn't running for ribbons.

The 50K was a great experience. As the end was approaching, I felt even stronger and more confident, and I was able to up my pace. Nice feeling!

More important than any finish time, I had yesterday made it to 6 starts of my 10 planned Events -- and crossed every finish line.  Yesterday's 31.1 miles, 4,500 feet of climbing, 7 hours of constant running was a challenge.

Imagine covering over 30 miles of amazing trails in the redwoods, spanning 2 parks, in a day. What a treat -- and much for which to be grateful.

                               What's Next

Next up, training for the Ironman, with a time trial check of a Half Marathon a month prior. It is the full Ironman that is my giant reach for the unknown.

So if any of you reading this are still just 'thinking' about getting fit via exercise, what's your excuse? Time to get going -- you owe it to yourself!

P.S. McKinsey & Company (for whom I worked as a management consultant many years ago) recently ran an article about my 'journey' -- between more usual alumni announcements such as one becoming CEO of a company and another Chairman of a bank: https://alumni.mckinsey.com/alumni/default/public/content/jsp/alumni_news/20121102_October_29_November_2_LBN.jsp

Half-way...

The Marin County Triathlon 

Despite a late dinner on Saturday in the south bay, I headed out the door to the Triathlon at 6 am Sunday morning.

Lots of bustling activity at the entrance to McNear's Beach when I arrived. I had to drive back over a mile to find a place to park. Put on my backpack loaded with gear, and then biked back the 2 miles to the start of the Triathlon, along the SF Bay shoreline.

Beautiful, sunny morning. Having prior picked up my race packet, all that remained was getting my gear laid out for the 2 transitions, and having my body marked with my race bib number on my left shoulder and left hand.

But what I also got a kick out of was everyone's age being marked on their left calf. During both the bike and run segments, you'd therefore know the age of anyone passing you or those you were reeling in as you passed them!

Next was getting into my swim gear (blueseventy wetsuit, 2 caps, goggles, etc). The swim starts began at 8:00, first with the top tier athletes, followed by several male-age-groups, the female swimmers, and my group being the 4th and last start.

Each start wave had their own swim cap colors, 10 minutes apart. My wave (orange caps) started 30 minutes after the first. A high school girl beautifully sang the national anthem, followed by a bagpiper in full dress playing on the beach, prior to the swim start. Way cool.

Being in the last starting group at 8:30, I could clearly see the route the best swimmers were taking around the 5 buoys floating in the sunny calm bay waters.

Even with a wetsuit, there's a moment of chill that hits you when you first get going. But soon I found my rhythm, and made sure to constantly watch where I was heading. The first of 5 buoys was soon just ahead, and the turn in direction after the 2nd was soon nearing. A few swimmers bumped into me from behind but no big deal.

Rounded the 2nd buoy, aimed for the third, and soon the 4th. Once I passed the 5th it was time to head straight for the finish (where we started). My Garmin watch showed that the 1.5 km swim (0.96 actual distance) took me almost 36 minutes, faster than I though I'd do.  Nice swim, felt great. Hey, I even passed a swimmer from the wave just prior.

The regulars in triathlons wear a swimsuit & bib outfit that they can wear swimming, biking and running, resulting in faster transitions, as all they need are biking or running shoe changes. It took me nearly 8 minutes to get out of the water, changed and on to my bike.

Off I went, up the steep hill to the main road and then east toward China Camp State Park. The bike course was a winding, hilly road with spectacular views of the bay. As all competitors had to do 3 loops of the bike course to complete the 22 miles, it was crowded in both directions at first, much less so on my last lap.

Several bikers flew by me with encouraging words, perhaps viewing the '65' on my leg. All such spirit lifts were welcome. A challenging course, but I attacked it technically (e.g. changing gears constantly to leverage the conditions) and pushed hard. Hey, I even found time to check out many of the ages of those I passed or of those who passed me. Funny, but no one older.

The bike leg of 22 miles (with nearly 1,500 feet elevation gain) took me 1 hour 26 minutes, or around a 15.1 mph average. Also on target per my estimate.

Rolled in back to the transition area, dismounted, and ran with the bike back to my running gear.

5 minutes later I was off running the 10K (6.2 miles). Unfortunately, I immediately felt the pulled leg muscle from 2 weeks prior, so I had to shorten my stride and jog rather than race the course. Which is why it took me just over an hour to run the 10K.

One guy passed and yelled out he hoped to be running anywhere near the pace I was when he reached 65. Yes, I checked, he was only 39!

Nearing the Finish Line

I crossed the finish line 3 hours 16 minutes after the start (including 13+ minutes changing).

Hey, I even came in 2nd in my age group! OK, OK, there were only 2 in the 65-69 group, myself and a 66 year old -- who swam faster.  :)

So far, 5 starts and 5 finish lines. No complaints.

More importantly, I have now passed the half-way mark on my '10-event tour de force' (words of Marin IJ).

Assuming the muscle that caused me to conservatively run the 10K leg recovers OK, next up is the Woodside Ramble 50K (31 miles), a hilly,   l-o-n-g trail run in the south bay.

Schedule Remaining 

P.S. If by any chance you are among those still just 'thinking' about getting fit, get started today or tomorrow. You owe it to yourself.

Marin IJ and Marin Country Triathlon

Just days until the start of the Marin County Triathlon on Sunday.

Similar to days prior to a marathon, nothing I do from now on can really help, and much can do harm....so I'm tapering (training time-off, extra sleep).

The Marin Independent Journal just ran a Profile about my 10-event tour de force (their words) as part of their Triathlon coverage. Page 1 even...

 http://www.marinij.com/sports/ci_21883998/triathletes-marin-former-sausalito-racer-spector-making-marin?IADID=Search-www.marinij.com-www.marinij.com

Now I really do have to cross the finish line. :)

Details to follow next week (from Event #5 -- my half-way point).

Alcatraz Invitational Swim

The Alcatraz Invitational Swim 

(Event #4 of 10)

If you live in the SF Bay, the former prison island of Alcatraz is visible from all shores. So secure by its island location, it’s presumed that in its day, no one ever survived trying to escape by swimming to freedom.

Alcatraz was the siren swim challenge. Not for wannabe swimmers. Crossing the SF Bay, with powerful currents, and often-unpredictable winds and fog beckoned.

Saturday, September 8 finally arrived. I set 3 different alarms for 4:00 a.m. to be sure to wake up on time, but somehow I looked at the clock at 3:45 -- and immediately got up to begin my day.

Prepared my usual strong morning coffee, plus 2 bowls of hot oat cereal. By 4:45, gear thrown in car and off to San Francisco. Empty freeways and local streets, until approaching Aquatic Park -- and then the incredible contrast of nearly a thousand swimmers, all heading to check-in or getting ready.

The commaderie of people about to embark on the same swim journey was universal. People starting conversations with anyone nearby -- everyone open and willing to converse, jabber, release some nervous energy. First time? Bay conditions? Suits or Skins?

Skins are those who are regular open water swimmers without wetsuits, and generally faster swimmers (as time spent in the SF Bay’s cold water is key). From what I saw, I’d guess 10-15% were without wetsuits, but most wore wetsuits (i.e. the 'Suits' -- including myself).

Race check-ins closed at 6:15. At 6:30, still dark out, all swimmers gathered in front of the South End Rowing Club’s entrance, where ‘Sharko’ the race Director gave last minute rules, tips and mandatory procedures to a mass of swimmers for the venerable (founded 1873) South End Rowing Club's 17th Annual Alcatraz Invitational Swim.

Moments later, around 7 am, the trek to the ferries (about half-mile) through Fisherman’s Wharf began. If a Suit, nothing other that what you'd hit the water with was permitted en route. (Skins could bring some clothing and check a second bag for later pick-up.) Shoes, clogs, flip-flops piled up as swimmers abandoned them as they boarded the ferries.

Equipment needed, 8 items: wetsuit, goggles, favorite swim cap, yellow race cap (mandatory), ear plugs, waterproof timer chip, colored ID band to get on the ferry and a watch. A mustached man in full plaid kilt was playing a welcome on bagpipes as we approached the ferries -- nice touch to calm the jitters. It was amazing how fast the 2 ferryboats filled up, top and bottom decks -- packed with expectant and excited men and women swimmers.

During the ride out, lots of chatter. Some were sitting on the floors, some seated, most standing. But a buzz everywhere, with positive vibes. Lots of nervous but positive energy with ‘can do’ attitudes conveyed to anyone in need of encouragement, especially first-timers (like myself).

By 7:30, both ferries arrived to the east of The Rock, and pointed their bows to the SF destination.  On each side of each ferry, there were two gangways. With 2 boats, that meant 8 exits. Swimmers lined up at each in 3 lines, as 3 jumped off simultaneously into the cold water, from each of the 8 exits. When it came your turn, there was no time for second thoughts. Jump and immediately swim away from the boat. Within 5-6 minutes, nearly a thousand swimmers were on their way.

After the shock of the cold water (water temp around 59-60 F degrees ), I checked to see that my Blue70 Vision goggles and my 2 caps were on OK -- and it was time to head to San Francisco! The waves were heading to the east, constantly slapping against my face, as I took in air to my right. I needed to find a swim rhythm, which I fortunately found shortly after starting.

I was watching the Rock as I swam, noting how little progress I seemed to be making….but soon I forgot. My watch vibrated at my 880-yards-preset (1/2 mile) 23 minutes later. There I forced myself to stop and look around. Quite amazing views to enjoy: the SF city skyline, the gleaming Golden Gate Bridge, Sausalito hills, the San Rafael and Bay Bridges….and lots and lots of bobbing yellow caps!

The Balclutha, with Alcatraz at the rear

Slower swimmers were advised to aim for the SS Jeremiah O'Brien (a still functioning World War II Liberty Ship), farthest to the east of the entry to Aquatic park -- given slower swimmers needed more time in the water and the currents by then would be heading out to sea. Faster swimmers initially navigated off of the Balclutha (a three-masted ship of 1886 vintage) closer to the entry to Aquatic Park.

Scores of kayaks headed out to The Rock manned by volunteers, with safety and communications equipment to help swimmers if needed.

After the first 10-20 minutes of swimming, it was the rarity that another swimmer was nearby.  Visible if one stopped or looked, but the feeling was mainly swimming alone in my quest to cross the Bay.

My Blue70 Reaction swimsuit kept me warm and buoyant, with just my feet and hands initially feeling the chill. But constant movement was the counter – with strokes and kicking to make it across.

By my next ½ mile alert, I could see progress, though still a ways from the SF shoreline.  I stopped again to ‘smell the roses’ and take in the views. My confidence was building, as Aquatic Park was now visible.

Home Stretch -- with Golden Gate 

Steady but slow, I continued, but now aiming for the Balclutha until I was nearing the entrance to Aquatic Park. The currents were definitely pushing past the entrance and west towards the ocean, and when I came nearer the entrance, I poured on what I had to get into the calmer Aquatic Park waters. After entering I had just 400 yards to go, so I continued my ‘sprint’ to the end.

As soon as I could stand, I raised my right hand as a signal to friends and family waiting that it was me -- and raced                                              under the Finish Line arch and over the mat recording my time. 

Breathless, I barely noticed a Volunteer removing my Velcro-attached timer chip above my ankle, but I did remember the Volunteer placing a Finisher’s Medal around my neck.

My 2 teenage sons, wife and several friends were there to greet me. Great feeling, all smiles!

Checking-in, putting on my wetsuit, boarding the ferry and jumping off the ferry into the Bay all required mini-leaps of faith -- as I had never done any swim event prior, much less one in open waters such as the SF Bay.

My watch recorded the distance I swam at 1.67 miles (vs. 1.25 miles as ‘the crow flies’) in just under 1 hour 14 minutes (@ ~44minute/mile pace).

Given that less than a year before when I started swim training (3 months after my accident) and found it trying to do just 100 yards (4 pool lengths), I had much for which to be grateful.

What’s Next?

The Dipsea Race, the Double Dipsea, the California Death Ride and now the Alcatraz Invitational Swim. 4 Events, 4 finish lines crossed. No complaints.

With 8 months left in my 65th birthday year, 6 more to go:

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Sequencing and spacing the dates for each Event, pacing during each Event, and avoiding injury will all be key to my crossing the 6 finish lines remaining. My coach friends are being consulted, and I hope to have the revised Event schedule ready soon. You're invited to follow the blog and @fitatallages on Twitter.

Now, finally, back to my early morning runs!

Yes You, You Are Next

If you are reading this and by chance still just thinking about getting fit, it’s time to get started – even if it’s just a brisk walk around the block.  Fitness at all ages is a choice we all can and should make for ourselves. 

Also, do share your stories & comments. 

Next Up: Alcatraz Swim

The Race Director (nicknamed a reassuring ‘Sharko’) of the Alcatraz Invitational Swim has sent detailed emails with lots of tips, suggesting first timers visualize jumping off the Blue & Gold Ferry at the Rock (Alcatraz) "…with you exiting the water and crossing the finish line." Yes, that's the plan.

Not worrying about sharks, curious sea lions, or playful dolphins (whose fins might suggest otherwise). Nor swimming in or out ‘on the flood’ (low tide change with mass of ocean water from under the Golden Gate rushing toward the east Bay), just get used to it.  Also be prepared for some ‘crabbing’ (swimming against a current) by adding speed as needed.

Though the swim is ~1.25 miles as the crow flies, the average distance (given currents, possibly choppy waters, and how-could-it-be poor navigation) will be ~1.5 miles. Thus we’ve been encouraged to train for 2 miles. Hey, that’s only 144 crossings of a 25-yard pool. Given the helpful motivation of fear, I have done so, several times. (Thank goodness for my watch that counts laps.)

Try out your wetsuit prior to race day also seems like a good idea. If it’s too tight, you can’t get a full breath, making it hard to breathe. Or if too big, water rushes in.

My Blue70 Reaction wetsuit arrived today, 10 days before. Plenty of time to try out, no? Tomorrow, I'll take the plunge into nearby Lake Anza, and maybe also an open water swim before the 'Rock' as well.

Blue70 is now my second sponsor (after Ice Chamber) in tandem with a sports magazine article in the works re my Comeback 65: Challenge for Good. Details to follow.

If nervous (who me?), Sharko suggests a breathing technique: "...alternate nose breathing (cover one nostril and breathe in through the other deliberately and excel through the mouth, do this say 8 times and then switch to the other nostril). This will relax you and saturate your muscles with O2…. walking to the boat as well as just before you jump." 

Sure, I’ll remember. Then post jumping, look around, take in the view – and no hyperventilating! Relax.

Navigation tip: Don’t follow the swimmer in front of you, as they might be heading the wrong way…. Just look at the landmarks and get some sighting practice ‘in choppy open water.’

But remember too, that fitness at all ages is a choice we can all make -- and then just do something.

Sharko does say that when we complete the swim, walking up the beach, remember that those cheering will be doing so for a ‘hell of a great accomplishment." May it so come to pass. 

Upcoming List of Events