“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”

–Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption (1982).

I’ve had a week now to fully digest my performance at the Escape From Alcatraz race on June 7. Here a few thoughts and anecdotes from the last days of training leading up to the race. 

I got the swim distances wrong, discovering this when I realized that the pool where I planned to train was going to close indefinitely. May 22 was my last swim at the Laramie Rec and also the last day the pool was open. As I discussed in my last blog post, the Rec pool will be closed until August. 

It was because of this closure that I discovered the swim distance is actually 1.5 miles, not 1500 meters or 1.5K, which was what was reported in my media interview, thanks to my error. The local newspaper and journalist Adam Engel did a story on the race, which was awesome. Adam interviewed my buddy from college and former Olympian, Ryan Bolton. The article was great, but inaccurate thanks to me. The error weighed on me as I realized that I had an additional 900 meters to swim upon what I had been training for: 1.5 miles, which is about 2400 meters roughly. Quite a bit more than 1500 meters.  

After the Rec closed, I swam twice at Lake Hattie, once at East Canyon State Park in Utah on the drive out to San Francisco, and then a short swim the day before the race in the Bay. I also drove over to the Cheyenne Municipal Pool on June 2, five days before the race, and had a killer swim workout. After a 500 meter warmup, mixing some pulling, kickboard, and drills, I did a 20 x 100 pull on the 2 minute mark, and got faster as the set went on. I felt strong and knew I was ready. 

My bike preparation still was heavily based on sticking to the older bike in my basement, on my trainer, but I was able to get my newer race bike out for a few hill repeats in Rogers Canyon. For those of you that don’t know Rogers Canyon, you follow 9^th Street north out of Laramie, and the road turns into dirt after about 9 miles, and climbs up to 8000 feet. There are never semis on the road, which is nice. That first Saturday of Labor Day, May 29, I did a training ride up Rogers Canyon and it was a perfect morning, just a gorgeous day. Little wind, mid-50s. The hills of the Canyon were sublimely green with all the rain we had just received. I was shocked that I only saw one other cyclist. I had a great ride that day and also gained some confidence for the hills of the Golden Gate, which is where the bike leg is held. 

The run was the most concerning discipline for me as I entered the home stretch of my training. On May 24, I did what I hoped was my last “brick” workout, where you combine a bike ride and run, to simulate the same conditions on race day. Until you’ve experienced it, immediately jumping off a bike and then running after a hard ride for an hour or so is not easy. So you practice it. On that day, May 24, just a couple weeks before the race, I got some sharp calf pain on the run and had to quit after 3 miles. Because of that, I did all treadmill runs the rest of the way until the race – except the day before when I ran an easy 3 miles around the race course in San Francisco. I had no idea if my calf would hold up for the race, but it did. 

The day before the event, the race director informed the crowd at the mandatory pre-race meeting that he expected the weather conditions would be the best he’d ever had in his 16 years directing the race. He explained that they received 12 or 13,000 thousand applications for 2000 some spots. He announced that there were athletes from all 50 states and 68 countries. I chatted with a guy in the line for the boat the morning of the race and he told me it was his sixth time applying before he finally was accepted. It dawned on me how big this race is, and how lucky I was to be part of it. 

If I had to sum up my performance at Escape From Alcatraz, luck is a good word. I honestly did not expect to do as well as I did – finishing at 3 hours, 2 minutes and 27 seconds. I was 14^th out of 119 in my age group, and 202^nd out of 1,186 men. Overall, I was 236^th out of 1500 athletes. I was hoping to get in the top 20% of my age group, and to my surprise, I was closer to the top 10%.  I’ll break down each phase:

Swim: 37:06 – 1:26/100m pace

By the morning of the race, and I had gained considerable confidence in my ability to perform on the swim, since I had tested the water the day before. The San Francisco Bay, at least during this time period, was not nearly as cold as Lake Hattie. The perfect weather forecast added to my optimism, and everything was calm as we headed out to Alcatraz on the San Francisco Belle.

I had no idea the entire race field would all board one single boat: the San Francisco Belle. It’s huge, definitely made for hosting large parties while cruising around the beautiful surroundings in the Bay. Athletes 40 and above were asked to go to the 2^nd deck, and everyone under 40 was on the bottom deck. Once everyone on the bottom deck had jumped in, we funneled downstairs for the 40 and over folks to start the race. 

When my time to jump came, I didn’t hesitate but I had some butterflies, a definite adrenaline rush. It took me a solid minute for my wetsuit to get warm, and it was shocking for a few seconds. I struggled to get my breath for a short period, but I more or less remained calm. I had seen some of the pros and college triathletes start their swim and they hit the water like a speed boat – immediately swimming away with powerful strokes. Not me. After swimming away from the boat to give the people behind me space, I needed a few seconds to tread a little water and focus. But then I got in the groove and evidently, crushed it. It was the current, without a doubt, but my time amazed me. If you look at this picture (above), I’m actually in disbelief. 37 minutes? Could that be right? I didn’t expect 37 minutes over 1500 meters, let alone 2400 (or 1.5 miles). It was the current, but whatever. I wasn’t going to complain. 

Bike: 1:07:23 – 26.6 km/hr (the online results are all in metric)

The transition to get to the bike was the longest I’ve ever experienced, but that’s part of working around an active marina and a major international shipping lane for the swim. But we had to run like half a mile to get to our bikes. 

This was the weakest leg for me. I did fine at the climbing, although there were a few points where I was wishing for one lower gear to shift into, downshifting all the way and still struggling. I lost quite a bit of time on the downhill portions, and I admit, I was tentative. The hills were incredibly steep, and the roads were rough in some spots, like cobblestones. I don’t wear gloves and should have for that course. When I hit that first rough patch while speeding down a steep grade, the impact was jarring, shaking the bike to the point my hands almost came off the handlebars. I passed a few people on the uphill, only to have them bomb past me on the downhill side, playing cat and mouse. If I knew the course a little better, I would have been more aggressive. 

So I knew my bike time would not be great, but I didn’t care. I could feel that I had plenty more in the tank so I conserved my energy for the run, hoping my calf would hold up because I felt strong.  

Run: 1:07:03 – 6:37 km/hr

Without a doubt, my training at 7220+ made a difference when coming down to sea level for this race. I felt strong on the run, and got stronger as the race progressed. Except for the legendary sand ladder, I was getting faster as the run went on. I hadn’t paid much attention to the sand ladder until the race, and it was everything people said. I’ve never encountered anything like it on a race. For those of you who know Sheridan, the sand ladder is like the Linden Hill steps, except right next to the beach. And…, the steps are almost entirely covered in sand, sand that’s several inches deep. When you step into it, you just sink. You can’t run up these stairs, you have to trudge up them. And it’s exhausting. This is a photo of me right in the middle of the sand ladder. All of us in this photo were chatting with each other, in between gasps for oxygen. It made for some funny conversation. I had a small twinge of pain in my calf as I was about to start the sand ladder, but it went away. Whew!

The last few miles of the run are downhill with the wind at your back, and I started hunting runners to catch. Within the last mile or so, I reeled in some of the college triathletes, young kids who had a huge lead, beginning the race well before me. I could tell by their race outfits: Stanford and Cal Berkeley mainly, but I saw a few other schools. I passed one young dude who looked athletic, all decked out in his Cal race kit, and he came back to pass me on the last few hundred yards. Some of those college triathletes smoked me, no question, but I caught a few of them at the end. That was cool, I’m not gonna lie. I’m sure I motivated that kid when he saw my Wyoming jersey running past him. In that moment, I felt as alive and competitive as I ever have. 

The day before the race, we also made a trip out to Alcatraz Island to tour the place. I learned much more about the Rock than I ever knew. They have recreated the cells from the movie Escape From Alcatraz, and the dummy heads those guys used to disguise their bunks are on display. Depending on the currents and water temperatures, I have no doubt those men could have successfully escaped. The water was cold, but bearable. With a wetsuit, it was comfortable almost, at least for this race. If they did have a flotation device, which is depicted in the movie, I think they could have kicked their way across the Bay before the current took them out to sea. 

The cells themselves were horrid and dungeon-like. Alcatraz was a true SuperMax, the first ever, before that term had been invented. No human should be resigned to live in those conditions indefinitely. 

Yet, just as athletes confront daunting odds in pursuit of the finish line, so too do millions confront the daily reality of mass incarceration—a system that often seems impossible to escape. But endurance teaches us that resilience is built through adversity, and hope is what carries us forward when the path is hardest. As I reflect on my journey from the cold waters off Alcatraz to the broader fight for justice, I’m reminded that real change—personal or societal—requires the tenacity to keep moving, the courage to believe in second chances, and a stubborn faith that even the most unyielding walls can one day come down. In both racing and reform, hope is not naïve optimism, but the quiet conviction that transformation is possible, no matter how strong the current. We keep showing up, we keep pushing forward, and we refuse to let despair define the horizon. That is how we break free.