We have all temptations of different sorts. Mine range from munching on cereal just before bedtime (I recommend Wheat Chex), to binging on the Alone series, to staring at water and wondering how I can get into it. I have felt this urge as long as I remember. There are plenty of people who like to swim, but not too many who actually want to jump in off a frosty dock. Ivy, our golden retriever, understands this completely.
For many years I have swum on various adult (Masters) teams both here and in California. I am by no means a fast swimmer — I call myself the slow but steady type. Although my swimming speed has never dampened my enthusiasm, I did wonder whether I could ever emerge from this plateau. I started lessons with Tim Walton, swim instructor par excellence, who used the word “chaotic” when he first described my swimming style. As it turns out, my legs and arms were working pretty hard, but they were doing their own thing. With the help of a speaker inside my swim cap so I could get real time instruction from Tim, as well as several poolside videos he took, I began to appreciate what I was doing wrong.
I learned that when the right leg kicks, the left arm extends under the water. And vice versa. You need to incorporate a little pause to get the timing right. As I worked on this, my thoughts traveled to a short conversation I had with Thomasina Petrus after one of her performances. “Everything I do and see is in rhythm,” she said. “I even notice the rhythm of the windshield washers.” According to Tim, one of the best ways to reinforce swimming technique is to learn how to ballroom dance. He should know – he’s a pro at doing both.
I decided I needed to put my newfound “beat” to the test. I signed up for the Alcatraz Invitational, a 1.27-mile swim I have done in the past, using my old-fangled “chaotic” technique. The event is a fundraiser for the much beloved South End Rowing Club, held every September, when the water in the Bay is warmest (low 60s). As you might expect at any large gathering in San Francisco, high spirits and general zaniness abounded. A bagpiper led the early morning march from Aquatic Park to Pier 41, where everything you’re not swimming with (i.e. towels, sweatshirts, flip flops) had to be handed off before you loaded the boat. That makes for a crowd that likes to stay together, especially the morning of Sept. 7, which was chilly and grey.
The air temperature alone made me really glad I was wearing a “shortie” wet suit, although almost half of the crowd went without. The boat left the pier and stopped just offshore of Alcatraz. An announcement was then made that we would be jumping from two platforms on either side of the boat. Every five seconds, three people per platform were told to jump into the water, with the amazing efficiency of loading a chairlift. It’s about a 10-foot jump, and we were told we should swim away from the boat ASAP. By this point, I had a distinct pit in my stomach.
When I landed, saltwater shot up my nose — yuck — but thankfully my goggles and cap stayed on. The instant cold activated my ankle timer, and also made me want to move. But the waves caught me by surprise — this really was “big water,” more so than what I remembered. The motion of the waves initially had me rolling clumsily in a way I couldn’t control.
Between waves, I followed the yellow caps of the other swimmers, and after some minutes and a few mouthfuls of water, I focused on what Tim had taught me. I eventually found my rhythm, and even did a turnaround to enjoy the splendid view of the Golden Gate as the sun broke through the fog. The time passed, thankfully with no sightings of a dorsal fin, and the landmarks gradually looked closer. At some point, I was thrilled to hear the clapping and cheering of the spectators at the finish line. I thought I was close, but sound travels a long way over water. Eventually I blissfully felt solid ground under my feet and made my way up to the finish line. Immense relief flooded me.
Here's the amazing thing about the Alcatraz swim: the age range was 11 (no wet suit!) to 81, and out of 505 swimmers, a full 48 of them were aged 66 or older. Yes, these are Californians mostly, who can revel and swim in the sun all year, but this age distribution still amazed me. A few of the oldest swimmers needed an arm to steady themselves as they got out of the water, but their huge smiles said it all. I spoke with a few of them, who said they did the swim faithfully every year. The plan was to keep going as long as their bodies allowed.
I realized that they were absolutely right. Why not keeping joining the party as long as you can? I was tickled that my time had improved quite a lot, and I was thankful to Tim for that. I was happy to know I could still “escape from Alcatraz” should the need ever arise. But what I really valued were the confirmations — to keep learning, to keep getting in the water, and to keep remembering those folks — even past 80, who aren’t afraid to give it a try. I am hoping this will be my annual pilgrimage. Please come and join me next time.
