I'm sure the first words out of the Dr.'s mouth when I was born weren't "It's a swimmer!", nevertheless that was life's ultimate plan for the years ahead. All growing up we spent summers in our grandma's pool and for a lot of us Gram would be our first coach. With my brother and sister along with cousins we would learn basic technique and the water became our second home. 'Reunions' were weekly if not daily. Swimming was my first love but sometimes life forces us to give up the things we love. At the age of 3 I was diagnosed with Chronic Renal Failure, more specifically Prune Belly; A kidney disease effecting 1 in 40,000. Attacking the immune system, reducing energy, and holding kidney function at 12-14% getting out of bed in the morning is nothing short of a miracle and everyday truely a blessing. When I was a Jr. in high school my swimming times began to slip and at first I didn't pay it much attention but I soon realized I was headed down a difficult road, a road that only went in one direction. Physically I didn't feel any different and for the next several weeks I wrestled with myself as I practiced. "Should I stay? Is it worth it anymore? What about the team?" Failure was knocking at my door and threatening what I loved. Without my hand on the knob the door opened and passion died. There was a moment standing waist deep in the water inbetween sets, everything slowed down and reality settled in my heart and sank to the bottom of the pool. Failure was not a choice but something I had to accept...or so I thought. For years after quiting the team I was bitter and angry, I didn't want to swim or even hear about swimming. I dont think my family understood where I was and quite frankly neither did I. Part of me died when I left and for those who have had a broken heart for whatever reason understand what I mean. Somewhere along the way my brother started to dabble in triathlons and other athletic events, soon my sister joined and before I knew it I had been sucked in as well. Emersed in a new journey, high school was in the past and another chapter in life was starting. Bitterness melted away and anger faded. "If you love something, set it free..." I don't recall who originally said this but for me this came true. I had a renewed love and a refined understanding and acceptance of the past. I moved on and gained a burning desire to rise above circumstance. Before I layed down and didn't fight, life will always find ways to knock us down but we only lose when we give up or give in. I'll push through the pain, I'll kick a little longer, I'll reach a little farther...I'll swim towards redemption

Sunday, January 16, 2011

ALCATRAZ                                                         8-29-09

                Resting on the side of the pool one afternoon, where time was often stolen, my best friend offered advice on how  she motivates herself to swim faster, “Just pretend there’s a shark behind you.” Sinking back into the water and continuing our workout I found myself almost drowning, with every breath laughing audibly and taking in mouth fulls of water imagining a fierce grey shadow closing in on me effortlessly as I try to escape its jaws, its dead eyes cutting deeper than any row of teeth could penetrate.  Little did I know that in a few short years this would become reality…
My older brother Josh told me one day about an open water race in San Francisco called “Swim With The Centurions.”  The course would start off the shore of Alcatraz and finish at Aquatic Park about 1.25 miles depending on how straight you could swim fighting through different currents.  At first I thought he was joking because I didn’t think such an awesome event could really exist.  Needless to say it wasn’t a joke or you wouldn’t be reading this story right now.  After going online and searching for the race we learned that this was just one of several races at Alcatraz and that this particular race was named for the group of people who have swum the rock 100 times or more and would be competing with us. 
I must admit that although excited about  the race I was also a little uneasy about what creatures we may encounter.  About a month before the race I began having strange dreams, sharks not necessarily  attacking but circling me, not being able to swim, etc.  I punched them in the nose, stuck my finger in their eyes, you know all the things you learn from Discovery watching Shark Week.  Thankfully these dreams didn’t last long, in fact they got better, the sharks still swam around in my subconscious while I slept but they were no longer menacing or threatening. 
Finally it was Friday and time to board the plane for California! We arrived at SFO early afternoon and later that night we drove to Aquatic Park for the practice swim held by Coach Pedro of Water World Swim.  After a short greeting and talk, including advice backing up warnings on signs posted around the area on staying away from the local seal population which are known to bite when people get too close, Pedro took us out cutting across the park and swam along the pier.  “…This is a challenging swim and we recommend to all participants to train properly with lots of time ahead. Water World Swim of San Francisco, the experts of this swim, can give you the right advice, support and coaching for this swim.”   These words from the registration website kept echoing in my mind as we left the park for open water, waves were pounding the piers that we traced making it difficult to swim or breath and at times to move forward was almost impossible.  Rising with the waves the next second would be a short free fall as if the water suddenly evaporated beneath you.

I’ll be the first to admit, I was dumb.  I didn’t train for the race and put in the practice time that was necessary.  Since the race was limited to 350 swimmers we had to register early which meant I had several months before I had to begin to even think about training, well as you probably have experienced at one time or another time quickly caught up and I was feeling it halfway through the practice swim.  I was exhausted, frustrated, and my shoulders were on fire and could’ve fallen off at any time.  As in high school I again found myself in an internal debate whether to keep pushing through the pain and finish or turn around and head back preserving what little strength I may have left for the race in the morning.  Stroke after stroke I had to make the decision to keep going, mentally I had to finish the swim by blocking out the pain and focusing on the finish.  My  mind wondered back to the shallow end of the pool separated from the rest of the team doing fly ladders struggling to keep pace with the star on the team, wishing I was there confident and relatively comfortable.  The decision was an easy one to make, I knew if I gave up now it would be all the easier to give up in the morning.  As per usual my brother finished way ahead of me but more importantly we both finished and left with an idea of how things would be the following morning.

It was a beautiful morning even for 6 a.m.  The sun hadn’t risen yet, the air was crisp with a slight chill and no fog in the Bay, a promising sign for a great adventure.  My dad drove my brother and I out to Aquatic Park and met  other swimmers and enjoyed the view while the rest of the family slept a little longer and got ready before joining us.  Our intense excitement grew as the sun came up and its rays danced on the ocean transforming it from the dull lifeless black ice into the grayish deep blue of day.  After what had seemed like an eternity it was time to start.  In the years preceding this race we had competed along with our sister in multiple triathlons back home in Utah most of which the swim takes place in one of the state parks reservoirs , although a reservoir is vastly different from the ocean skills from these open water swims still applied.  Swimming in large groups at the same time and being kicked in the head or taking an elbow to the eye were not uncommon and even expected.  Probably the most important skill learned that we took with us was the ability of sighting.  Unlike lanes in the pool the ocean and reservoirs don’t have convenient lines or flags to follow so finding a fixed and easily identifiable object whether a cliff or a tree or in my case at Alcatraz specific buildings is crucial to swimming straight and not wasting time and more importantly energy correcting your course.  Without an object in sight on this swim you could easily miss the finish altogether by losing focus and being pushed or pulled by the currents.

We fought our way into our wetsuits and ran through a mental check list: make sure our timing chips were on tight, fitted our goggles, got our disposable waterproof cameras hung around our neck put on our swim caps; and gathered together for final instructions and cautions.  After a short cheer we walked down the pier until we reached Pier 39 where we would board the fairy to take us out off the shore of Alcatraz.  My brother and I headed to the top of 3 decks taking in the views of the bay we were leaving behind and watched the seals play in the ocean.  After about a 20 minute ride the fairy was sitting at the jump point and support boats and kayaks were getting in place.  It wasn’t just the anticipation that was killing me but at this point my wetsuit had really heated up magnifying my own body heat trapped inside its tight neoprene skin.  We stood anxiously on deck awaiting the okay from the Coast Guard , the ‘nakeds,’ swimmers without wetsuits, would be the first to enter the water swim to the imaginary start line and begin when the fairy sounded its horn.  In 5 second increments two by two the rest of us would jump of the bottom deck and begin when we hit the water. 

Since this was our first time swimming from Alcatraz and most likely our last Josh and I wanted to make sure we took everything in and not rush.  We stood on the edge of the deck looking towards the bay at our goal, two of just a handful that remained.  Pouncing at the water ready to attack we were in, our heads submerged and seconds later breaking the surface.  The water was a pleasant 64 degrees and uncharacteristically calm, treading and bobbing in the ocean we talked and enjoyed the experience moving slowly back to shore taking turns snapping pictures of each other and of surrounding views as we swam.  A few hundred yards later my brother turned to me and said, “Ok, I’m gonna go for it now.”  Taking another look to the bay we found our sights lowered our heads in the water as a bull lowering its horns towards the Matador stretched an arm over head and sliced the water forcing handfuls behind us propelling our bodies smoothly through the gentle waves.  Within minutes Josh was yards ahead and his superior strength and flawless technique were distancing us further.

I was home.  A fish born without gills back in his natural environment.  For the next half mile I was gliding along the water.  In those moments finishing didn’t matter, the ocean was the only world that existed and I was a part of it, another cell coursing through its veins, an extension of every movement.  I was feeling great, enjoying the swim and wasn’t experiencing any setbacks like the night before.  The second half of the race however was an entirely different story.

I was struggling with my wetsuit, it just didn’t feel right even unnatural.  Movement was impeded by its constricting design and despite being in the water heat was still a small issue.  My shoulders were starting to burn once again feeling the consequence of not training, but even more painful was the rubber band that came with the camera.  Between the friction of each arm stroke rubbing the skin off my neck and the salt from the ocean continually flowing over it the pain was numbing and mentally I was being worn down.  Not wanting to move the images of sharks crept back into my thoughts as the blood from my neck was now being infused with the water.  Although local populations were negligible at worst I knew that the scent could carry for miles even in minute quantities.  The last thing I could afford to do now was panic.  Closing my eyes I pushed aside the phantasm as best I could, refocused and continued my crippled journey to Aquatic Park.  After what had seemed like several times longer than in my better state of mind knew it had been, I was mere hundreds of yards away from the piers and fighting through bigger waves.  I was moving slowly but I was still moving, my will was fractured but my soul had not allowed it to brake and had given me strength to carry myself to the end.

Inside the park the muscles in my shoulders were running on fumes and as if a backup generator had been turned on energy was being sent pulsing through my body burst after burst  I was now down to the final several yards and the last competitor that I could pass before crossing the finish.  Cutting  to the right I powered past my rival stretching out every stroke darting for the shoreline.  Reaching the beach I pulled myself out of the water and ran up the mats and through the finish line.  A young volunteer hung the 7th Annual Swim with the Centurions medal around my neck as I felt a heavy tap on my right shoulder.  Turning around I faced the hand of the swimmer I had just moments ago passed reaching out looking for mine and with a smile on his face simply said: “Way to finish strong, Great Job.”