Escape from Alcatraz – Hit & Run on the Bicycle

My not so racey race report: This is the race where everyone asks whether I will be eaten by a shark. And then they ask me if I know how cold the water is. I found the secret to passing time on a long car trip. Books on tape. This time we got original and chose Alcatraz as our book. It talked about the punitive, not reformative, style of Alcatraz by using a form of regimented monotony. I only had to endure them for a 12 hour car trip. I would argue that that stretch through Nevada is one of the most boring roads I have ever driven. But I still think that a monotonous book on a monotonous road is better than music. I did learn that the ebb tides in the bay can reach 8 knots. That got a little reaction out of Leighann. Once we arrived in San Francisco, we took the kids to see the sea lions and bought $5 Ghiradelli chocolate bars (the same bars that are $1.59 at Reams). There were triathletes everywhere doing their evening runs down the wharf. They are not too hard to spot. Jogging down the street with compression socks, Ironman shirts and sockless florescent flats. I have been training really hard, so I was pretty excited to see where I am at. I got up really early for a 30 min bike ride. The bike ride was more fun that I expected. I went up one of the steepest hills near Lombard. The road was so steep I had to learn forward to keep the front wheel down. I blasted right up to the top. No effort at all. I was almost laughing. The low altitude made it really easy. No hard breathing. I was READY for this race! Last week I did the SunCrest hillclimb. In spite of my stupidity in bicycle tactics, it was an easy race as far as available effort and fuel in the engine. So what I am saying is, maybe all the extra winter training is paying off. Sami Inokyia was the first age-grouper at Alcatraz last year and I was right behind him at Worlds, so I was at least a little optimistic. Oh, the uphill on the steep hills is great but everything that goes up must come down. Downhill in the pouring rain is a different story with aero wheels! There were no cars out at 6 am so this helped. I saw half the city in about 20 minutes. The city is a little messed up in terms of meeting federal traffic standards, but then again, SF is an entity unto itself. This is not a place I would cycle during the day. I don’t even cycle in Draper during the day. I was wearing my bright florescent long sleeve bike shirt over my Canyon cycling gear with a pair of Asics running tights over my bike shorts, due to the nippy 50 degree temp, fog and rain. I brought our spring Utah weather to San Francisco. I got ready to go back, but it can take several blocks, or even half the city to find a place to turn left in San Francisco. I made my first left at Market and 4th Street. As I entered the intersection, I was hit forward and thrown across the intersection. I wondered if I would ever stop. When I finally stopped, I was nearly unconscious from the pain. Holy crap, I can’t tell you how bad my body hurt. I remember a few people clapping on the side and a black Lincoln towncar accelerating very fast down 4th. I think I was in the intersection for a long time. Someone approach me and asked if I need help and then left. I am not sure how I got to the corner, but I remember a lot of plastic parts in the road and that I was EXTREMELY thirsty. I pulled my water bottle right out of the gutter (which was full of grimy rain water) and drank the whole thing. Somebody yelled “hit and run, hit and run!”. I was breathing so hard that I could not talk or cry. I could not catch my breath and I could not understand why a few deep breaths would not alleviate the pain. You know how we do high intensity intervals and we just have to stop and take a few deep breaths and everything returns to normal. No, not here. I crawled over to the entrance to Ross and the lady locked the door on me. I banged on the window and she said she was going to call the police on me. I said, “Great, please! And you can use my cell phone in my back pocket.” At some point she saw the blood running out of my mouth and managed to get a flicker of humanity to help me. I had her call my wife first. Leighann almost dropped the phone when she heard another women on my phone. The girl called the police and the paramedics. I really could not control my breathing. As I laid there wallowing on the ground for what seemed like forever (who knows, it may have only been a few minutes, but I was very dizzy and may have lost consciousness for a moment), I had the distinct thought that I needed to get back to the hotel so that I can sit down and catch my breath. I just wanted to sit down and put my knees in an ice bath (just like the photo that I saw on Moka’s Ironman collage). I don’t think I have met Moka in person, but that ice bath image was engraven in my mind and I was on a mission to reduce the swelling so that I could race the next morning. So I grabbed my phone and started riding my bike back to the hotel. I was on a mission. I had oxygen in my blood and energy to burn. I am not so sure that I was following any sort of prescribed traffic pattern since I was half delirious from the pain. I made it to the top of California and Powell (where the two trolley lines cross) and my knees locked up. I had climbed that steep hill in the hardest gear, as I could not shift my bike. I was absolutely livid that nobody came over to help and that someone would just drive off. There were plenty of spectators, so I was fuming over the incident. Leighann picked me up there. On the way back, we stopped at the police station, which we found on accident as she was figuring out how to get back to the hotel. All ok, but I needed to get ice on my knees. The report probably took 10 precious minutes. I couldn’t go to the hospital, that would take too much energy from my pre-race rest. Sitting in the car did not work, my knees had nearly frozen up. At the hotel, I would take some fish oil, maybe Ibuprofen, sit in an ice bath, get the swelling down and be ready for the race tomorrow morning. When I returned to the hotel to take my clothes off, I realized that the Asics did not have a single snag or blemish on them, but my knees looked like raw ground hamburger underneath. Not sure how that works because my Wasatch Running bicycle jersey was mangled. When I realized that my knee was the size of a grapefruit (no, not the 2/$1 grapefruit at Reams, but the expensive kind at Harmons), I decided that it would be worth Leighann’s effort to seek a deferral of my race entry for next year. But if not, I would do the swim and bike and just walk on the run. Well, about 20 minutes later I was hoping that I would heal well enough for Daybreak next Saturday. A few hours later I was hoping for Nationals in August. Now I hope I can heal fast enough to return next year to do this race. Leighann was successful in getting a deferral. In fact, not only did the race director break out in tears, but another lady asked to take the kids crabbing, fed them hot chocolate, took them to the Disney store, bought me a blanket and a movie and had called every hour since that time to check on my status. She even offered to pay for whatever costs we may incur. (The ying and yang of good and bad) By mid afternoon, I was hoping that I was having a bad dream and that this would not happen. Knees are a serious issue with triathletes. The gym is full of old guys that talk about their knees like a car mechanic talks about repairs to their Volkswagen bug. And they always talk about what would have happened. My parents talked about flying me home or having someone do an MRI here. We all concluded that an ER would just prescribe RICE. Yea, the X-ray might be nice, but I can get that in SL. In my mind, knee surgery…NOOO. Never. Not until the day that it is as common as lasiks surgery. Someday we will walk through the mall and choose which clinic to get our knees redone. But not now!!! PLEASE!!!! It is all ok. I did not die. Hey, a lot of accidents are far worse, but for a triathlete to triathletes-this is serious!!! Ok, I cannot walk to the bathroom. I think I have a problem. Probably something torn or a ruptured bersa (I never listen to people’s knee stories too well. Now I will). Leighann got a bag of goji berries from Chinatown that had a nice sized white worm in it. We even considered some spicy Chinatown dim sum since I don’t have to worry about the GI consequence of racing, but instead we settled for North Beach garlic Pizza. I hobbled at the race venue after a horrible night sleep. No comfortable position. Just a horrible dull ache. It was the first triathlon that I have every observed. It was quite a hilarious episode. I saw a lady scale the transition fencing because she didn’t want to go around. Then she got high centered on the rail and finally fell on her head. I am surprised how differently the pros dismount. There was lots of free stuff, chobani yogurt, coconut water, race belts, Subaru test drives, ice cream, pencils, magnets, etc. The kids go crazy when there is free stuff. It was a Mecca of giveaways. So hopefully my knees will be ok. I can painfully walk (sort of), but it might be a while before I am spinning and running. I need to remain positive. I cannot dwell on the guy that hit me. And if I did, what good is money when you have friends. I am thankful that I have had a healthy positive challenging outlet like triathlon. It is like religion, it is power from a passion of doing something positive. It is not easy for me to be positive, outgoing and athletic. The struggle is what it is all about. There are far worse things that can happen. There will always be another race. I hope I can return next year with my family and some teammates. I still think that it is worth the risk to put ourselves out on a limb. Next year, my goal is to come back leaner and better trained and maybe with a new 13.5 lb bike! I don’t care if it is a great struggle. That makes it worth more. If my family and friends are waiting for me, I might just cry when I cross the finish line.