We set the Alarm for 2:50Am. Jamie Volunteered and had to be at the race site by 4 am. We had the lights out by 9:30 but I had trouble falling sleep. I think I probably got 2.5-3 solid hours of sleep. Everything was laid out so I didn't need to do much before leaving the hotel. The plan was to call for an Uber car for Jamie (at least) and I would try to jam my bike in the back. The car arrived and sure enough, it would not fit. We entertained a SF based homeless man by trying to wedge it in. No issue. The back up plan was for me to ride to the race site (less than 2 miles). She could still arrive on time and wouldn't have to walk in the dark. I arrived shortly after 4 and got in line for transition. After entering transition I got things set up. Ate a green yogurt and chord down part of a scone. After meeting up my friend Brad, we headed for the shuttles for the short ride to the pier. We carried a bag with wetsuits, goggles, booties and caps. I wore a pair of warmup pants and a sweatshirt over my tri suit. We applied a heavy dose of Body Glide (not enough I eventually learned). About 15 minutes before boarding the boat, we pulled on the wetsuits (half way) and dropped our plastic bags with the volunteers for transport back to transition. We boarded and went to our designated floor: 1st floor for under 40 year Olds. We found a place to sit and try to relax while we waited for the start. It was about an hour from the time we boarded to the arrival to the Island. While onboard we saw Andy Potts warming up and chatted with him briefly. There was a quarantined area for the pros, but none of them used it. They mingled with the common folk. There was a huge line to the bathroom. This confused me. There weren't enough stalls for everyone to go #2 and everyone knows #1 takes place during the swim. In fact, I had heard numerous accounts of people pre-war ming their wetsuits while on board the boat. I held it. However by 7:15 I had to go. Bad. At 6:58 things started to happen. The announcer started making announcements and the athletes began to stand and move to the Windows. We are getting closer. At 7:20 I pulled the wetsuit all the way up and Brad and I helped each other get zipped up. The national anthem played and we were ready to rock. The athletes began to crowd toward the two doors to enter the Bay waters. At exactly 7:30 the pros hit the water. There was supposed to be a 2 minute delay before the age groupers entered but I don't think it happened.

The moment of truth was here. Everything happened very fast. The the adrenaline rush, along with the speedy entry to the water, is such that there is no time for fear or hesitation. When I think about the pre-race meetings, briefings and videos one point was reiterated: this is not the time to be mentally weak. The longer you waited to get off the boat, the rougher the tide will be. Within 5 minutes, 2000 athletes would enter the waters. At this point, I was ready. No fear, no anxiety. Just a rush of energy. I moved forward with the crowd and as I approached the door lost site of Brad. As soon as I stepped outside the boat into the small dock a volunteer announced 'go'. I looked down and saw the athlete directly ahead of me splash into the water and I jumped just to the slight right of where he landed. There were probably at least 5 other athletes jumping at the same as me, and we fanned out the best we could. I jumped with my hands spread wide and when I hit water, pulled my hands down to my side to quickly surface and started paddling like crazy. I know another group of athletes were directly behind me and I wanted to get away from the boat. I could feel the rush of cold as the bay waters quickly found its way into my suit. Suddenly, the urgent need to pee was gone. I wanted to go, but couldn't. I also felt the cold enter my goggles. My right lens was full of water. Soon, both sides were full. I had wondered what salt water would feel like when it got in my eyes and I found out right away. I didn't matter, I was on my way to the beach. I mentally went through the swim course landmarks: the towers, Fort Mason trees, Fort mason buildings, orange tiled roofs and the dome. The instructions were clear: swim across the 'river' straight to these landmarks and I would end up at the beach. It doesn't make sense when you're in the water, but I trusted the tried and true system. I set out swimming toward the towers. I found success to be slow going. The goggles kept filling and I was struggling to see through the fog. My face must change shape in the cold. I had tried three sets of goggles in cold water and these did not leak in practice. Today was different. I continued swimming stopping every hundred years or so to empty them. Soon I remembered the tip I read suggesting to take a break and look around. Absorb the moment. I rolled on my back and took a long look at Alcatraz island. Wow. I was actually doing it. I rolled to my side and looked at the Golden Gate Bridge. I looked ahead and spotted the city of San Francisco almost two miles away. I drained the goggles and swam toward the towers. I looked to my left and saw Brad. I was a bit surprised. #1 - what are the chances of running into him at this point, in a mess of 2000 athletes spread across the bay water. #2 - why wasn't I ahead of him? Brad is a new swimmer and I *think * I'm a stronger swimmer. Am I screwing this up? Nah. In this swim, I think normal laws are out the window, especially for first-timers. I carried on. I looked at my watch and saw that I had been in the water for 12 minutes. Normally I would expect to have progressed about 700 yards of the two mile swim, but I had no idea how far I had made it. We weren't in a pool with clear gauges of progress. I drained the goggles and pushed ahead. Finally, I stopped and decided to resolved the goggle situation. I pulled them almost completely off and pressed them hard to my face, looking for a strong seal. It seemed to work. I decided it was time to put the obstacles behind me. The cold water was no issue. It was cold, but not bone chilling. The goggles for were not ideal, but I had no alternate plan other than to press forward. I focused on technique: quick turnover, high elbow, strong pull, alternate breathing and siting every few strokes. As I chipped away, I could see that the towers were at about my 10 o'clock and the Ft. Mason trees were visible. I swam straight to them. Soon, the buildings became the target and I focused on swimming straight. At this point I encountered the chop. The waves were higher and the strokes seemed less productive. I kept pointed toward Ft. Mason. For a while, it almost didn't seem like I was swimming: rather I was just working to position my body pointed in the right direction. As I got closer to the city, I switched my focus toward the orange tiles. To my right, I saw a kayak. I was worried I had veered off too far to the right. I adjusted my position and pointed back toward Ft. mason. The kayak was gone. I could now see the swim exit arch and the crowd at the race site. I switched focus to the dome and pulled: left, right breath, left right breath/site. I was getting close. I was on target for the beach, but I was still cognizant of the risk of underestimating the current and getting pulled past the beach into the rocks. I kept toward the dome and spotted athletes exiting the waters. Soon, I was among them. I hit the beach and mentally prepared for the long transition. I had decided previously to run in my wetsuit and booties into T1 ( rather than stopping at the beach for shoes and wetsuit removal). I don't regret this decision at all. I jogged and tried to gather my wits. The first leg of this challenging event (and arguably most intimidating) was in the books.

I think if I did it again, I would be better prepared to just swim straight, versus messing with the goggles and trying to find my target. But no regrets on this one.

I didn't check my watch to see my swim time but it 'felt' like about 40 minutes. As I approached Marina Blvd on the long run into transition I saw Jamie cheering me on. Always a boost. I unzipped my wetsuit and removed my watch. By the time I got to my bike I quickly pulled it off the suit and put the watch on my cockpit. I skipped the socks, strapped on the helmet, took a swig of water (clear out the salt water taste) and took off. As I was leaving my aisle I saw Brad approach his bike. I shouted at him but he didn't hear me. And we are off.

Nothing

I had my shoes banded to the bike and ran barefoot to the bike mount line. Most of the fellow competitors seemed to be long course athletes and Ironman doesn't allow banded on shoes. Oh well. I mounted up and quickly shifted to the big ring as I left the mount line. I rode about a half mile with bare feet on top of the shoes as I weaved through traffic. Even with a questionable swim, I knew I was entering one of my stronger areas and could pick up spots on the bike. The first 1.5 miles are flat so I bared down into areo and focused on pushing power to get the legs fully engaged. I knew the hills were coming. As we approached the first Hill, I recognized it as looking similar to what I had seen on the NBC sports broadcast last year. I remembered a hook turn followed by a pretty steep climb. Was this it? Already? I stayed in the big ring but a smaller gear and approached the turn fully expecting a climb. And I got it. Because of the slow speed of entry into the turn, I quickly realized I was not in the right gear. I shifted to the small ring and nearly dropped my chain. Thank God for Dura Ace. I didn't drop the chain and soon I was spinning up the hill. I greatly underestimated how quickly I would need the granny gear.

The first of the five major climbs. It was not a killer, but it was painful enough. I had intended to tape the bike course notes on my stem before the race, but I didn't get it done. I don't know how much it would have helped. The climbs were pretty long and grinding, however not super steep (except one). In scanning my Garmin data, I spent about 45 minutes of the 70 minute bike leg climbing. Pretty daunting. In most races, I climb decently and can make up time bombing downhills. Not at this race. I was not comfortable descending as fast as normal so I definitely held back. Course congestion, technical course, unfamiliarity with the course, some course hazards (potholes) were all contributors. If I did the Escape again, I know I could definitely improve on the bike leg, simply by being more familiar with the race as a whole.

On the first descent, I saw the first pro on the back half of the bike. I couldn't ID him (turned out to be Josh Amberger) but I saw Cam Dye in 2nd place. He had a huge grin on his face as he made his final climb. Next was Andy Potts and a few others. It was cool to see the pros hammering the bike course.

On the whole, the bike course was challenging. On the way back, we encountered the toughest climb: A long climb with a short area of flat with a sharp left turn, followed by a sharp right turn, at which point the incline gets steeper. On the course map, and the Garmin, it doesn't look that bad, but it was the toughest portion of the ride. After this climb, I saw a poor guy who had wrecked on his way out (I was coming back). He was lying flat on his back with medical attending to him. He was sort of lying there around a corner, hidden from those behind him descending fast. Several of us took the opportunity to signal to the riders to "slow down". I'm sure he was taken care of, but it was a sober reminder of the risk of bombing down these hills.

On the final climbs, I watched the runners now on course. I hadn't given it too much thought...but these runners were on the same hills I had been biking. Gulp. I finished the last descents before getting to flat ground and powered on the flats to transition. I didn't spent alot of time in the aerobars: the flats at the beginning and end, plus some time in Golden Gate Park. That said, I'm still glad I rode the Shiv (tri bike) versus renting or riding my CX/Road bike. I'm far more comfortable on this, and would not have seen handling improvements with another bike.

I don't wish I had done anything differently. I could be faster on the descents if I did it again. I wish I had prepared my shifting better on that first climb. Apart from that, I think I did ok. I was surprised at my overall average speed being just over 15MPH. I would have never predicted that slow of a time. But that's just the nature of this course.

T2 went pretty quickly. As I rode into transition, I heard Jamie yell for me. By the time I heard her, I was almost past her and just caught a glimpse of her orange shirt. I left the shoes on and dismounted and made a decent transition. No flying dismount. There was some congestion and I would not have saved time.

nothing

Off running. I focused on keeping my pace for the first mile or so while it was flat. I knew I needed to pace properly as the hills I saw looming ahead were no joke...and that didn't include the sand ladder. Ahead of me I spotted a green Raging Bulls racing jersey. A noteworthy Kansas City-based racing team. I ponied up alongside him and we chatted for a while. He ran behind me most of the way, except when he bolted by on the sand ladder, before I ultimately ran him down and away in the final miles. Nice guy and good to chat with.

As I approached the first hill, I was a bit surprised to find stairs. I remember reading that there were steps, but I didn't realize there were THIS MANY steps. It was a trail off road and was basically single file. The two men in front of me were walking, so I had to as well. There were a few areas that widened for passing, where I took advantage of it. The trail was steep enough that there wasn't much time to be made up anyway. Next, more climbing. This was on road so it wasn't too bad. Eventually, as I finished the climb there was some descending before going off road again down to Baker Beach. The sand was deep for only about 100 yards and I ran as close to the water as I could, to catch the packed sand. It was just fine and not too slow at all.

[off topic] I just ordered a new Pearl Izumi race suit, but didn't wear it for this race. I'm still not 100% how it is going to work out. I spotted two racers wearing the same suit. After the turn around, I spotted another athlete wearing the new PI suit, but from a distance it looked like an odd cut. As I got closer to him, I noticed pouches in the fabric around his stomach--dude had the tri top on backwards. I'm not sure how that happens, or if he somehow prefers it backwards, but it looked really weird.

After the run on the beach, I approached the dreaded sand ladder. You had to trek about 200 yards through the deeper sand to get there. It's not awful, but you don't get much of a head of steam. Not that it mattered. The 400 or so uneven steps actually turned out to be not that big of a deal. It wasn't easy, but it's really not too practical to run them. You basically walk them, and take each step one at a time, while pulling on the cable. There's not much passing on the ladder (except Raging Bull zipped up it a little faster than most people). Everyone just grinds through it. I tried to smile at the camera at the top of the ladder, knowing that I had just completed a well known obstacle in this renowned race.

I told myself at this point, that it was easy. That was mostly true. About Mile 6, I began to descend and I ran up on a couple who were discussing cramps. As soon as I passed them by--bang! Left hamstring balled up in a cramp. Holy cow. Just like Kansas City a few weeks ago. I stopped cold and began to rub it out. I immediately turned and scolded the couple I had just passed. "No more talking about cramps!!". Something about their conversation must have seeped into my subconscious and triggered the cramp. After about 30 seconds, I was running again. I passed them again, and warned them once again about their conversation. As I descended the trail steps I felt the right quad starting to twinge. Another cramp coming? Nope. I would not allow it. I spent the next 5-10 minutes in conversation with my self and my rogue muscle group ordering them not to cramp. We're less than 20 minutes away from the finish. No. More. Cramps. My body listened and as things flattened out, I caught up to Raging Bull.


We were about 2 miles from the finish and Raging Bull asked me : "So when we were going to kick". I wondered to myself: "Is he challenging me? " "Is he joking?". I told him I was going to kick when I hit the Marina, mainly so that I could impress my wife who would be watching. He informed me he was joking, and he had no kick left in him. Ah well. I increased the pace a bit and never saw him again.

As I hit the marina, I did "kick" and overcame a few runners. It was amazing running through the crowd on both sides cheering on the athletes. I could see the finish. About 300 yards from the finish, a young girl passed me. Odd. She was wearing yoga pants. She looked fresh with a bounce in her run. If she was that fast, she wouldn't be finishing with me at this point. I looked at her ankle...no timing chip. No race belt/number around her waist. I'm pretty sure she was a bandit. I don't know when she ran on course, but she was going to experience the fabulous finish line. Ha ha. I let her go. I didn't want to race a bandit down the chute, and didn't really want her in whatever finishing pictures I had.

I think I ran about to my abilities. I'm a bit surprised that my run AG rank is actually highest among the three disciplines. Run has always been my biggest weakness.

Turning down the chute, I left what little I had in the tank. I raised my arms as I crossed the finish line and grabbed my medal. I loved it. Many people have jokingly asked: "did you win?". It's a fun question. Sometimes, there's a twinge of criticism (The whole anti-competitive, kid's soccer thing, where even the losers get medals). That's fine. It doesn't bother me. Usually, this question is steeped in a deep level of unknown about the sport, and endurance sports in general. Yes I won. I did not win my age group. I did not beat any pros. I finished firmly in the middle of the pack. But I completed a notoriously challenging event that was the culmination of 7 months of preparation. That preparation included physical pain endured during hours that most people are sleeping or spending time relaxing. That preparation included seeking out the biggest, steepest hills to run/ride on a repeat basis. This is not something the average person just walks out and "does".

I'm happy to check "Escape from Alcatraz" off the bucket list. It was amazing. The swim gets the most attention, but this race is equaling challenging in all aspects. If I am so fortunate, I would love to go after it again. I know I could do it faster, having tackled the course first hand. But some much of this event was about the moment. Taking in each element of the course and enjoying it. I didn't approach it with a specific time goal in mind. I wanted to live it and focus on experiencing it, and I met that goal.


This race, for me, wasn't really about going "fast". I know it's a weird thing to say about a race. I wanted to focus on the experience and do my best. I did that. If I raced it again, I would be faster, because I would have that first hand experience with the course.


Great race and great atmosphere. It lives up to the hype. All three parts are equally challenging. And given the long run on T1, it's fair to say even the transition is unique.

A few people have asked me: is the race really worth $500? Well honestly: is any race worth $500? Most people who do triathlon are not doing it because it's cheap. It's a very well organized race. It has unique elements that make it different from anything else in the world. It is in a scenic background in a very visitor-friendly city. I would say,"yes". It's worth it.

Post race, there was chicken, pasta and salad for athletes. The medals are cool. There was a good sized expo. Everything was top notch. I have no complaints.