The Oscar speech edition

Now that I'm home where I can actually do something about all the work I've got in arrears, let's get just enough of a blog entry out there to stay on schedule -- and to wrap up a few very important thank-yous. And in no particular order, since I'm too deeply grateful in all cases to prioritize.

Thanks to Dr. Robert Norris at MSU Sports Medicine for giving me the caution and the confidence to do this swim. Because of him I didn't have to wonder why my shoulder hurt, and even more importantly, I didn't have to wonder as much about the odds and consequences of any given decision. Obviously I swam. And the shoulder held up. No sharp pains, and not even any aches until very mild aching after the Golden Gate swim, and that could have been anything. If anything beat me up, it was the travel to and from San Francisco. Airplanes. Now, those are punishing.

Speaking of airplanes, thanks to Debbie and everyone at TriSports.com for covering my air and other travel expenses. Without their help, I couldn't have done this without breaking my promise not to take tempting book-promotion trips unless I could do it without losing money. I shall thank them by telling you all to shop there and by gushing about how wonderful they are, which is easy since I gush and recommend them all the time anyway.

Speaking of gushing, thanks to J.C. Dill, event photographer and new friend as of Saturday morning on the Hyde Street Pier, for shooting and posting some fantastic photos (you can find more here or in the first comment at the bottom of my "Calm and cool" blog post). If the air travel beat me up more than the waves, J.C.'s pictures gave me more goosebumps than the water temperature.

Speaking of those photos, nice shot of Rich and me. And thanks to my coaches, Rich and Iian Mull, who I believe finally turned me into a swimmer. Not that they were the only coaches who did it, just the prime ones. Thanks also for terrific guidance from Matt Gianodis, Jessie Byelich, Bill Copland, Tom Garmyn, Alec Mull, Lew Kidder, Jim Richardson and whatever glaring omission I'm undoubtedly committing.

Speaking of turning people into swimmers, thanks to Joe Zemaitis and his crew from SwimFAST, who made this swim possible not only for me -- only coincidentally and happily for me, really -- but for every kid who got to do it, who will do it and who's inspired by the kids who did do it. This is a life-changing swim for an adult. Can you imagine what it does for a kid?

Speaking of making this possible, thanks to Bob Roper and all the volunteers from the South End Rowing Club, the Dolphin Club, Team Neptune and lots of elsewheres, for making the swim possible and safe. And in particular to South End member Kathie Hewko, for the instant friendship and subsequent tour of the South End clubhouse. If I didn't have enough reasons to want to live in San Francisco, now I have one more. If I lived there, I'd sign up in a skipped heartbeat.

Speaking of heartbeats, thanks to my wife, Patty, for putting up with and even encouraging yet another crazy and exhausting -- and I don't mean exhausting for me -- segment for the lifetime highlight reel.

Speaking of crazy and exhausting, thanks to Kathryn and Brian, and Rich and Leslie, and Ruth and Dean and Bryan and Randi and Allison and Megan and Shannon and even more relatives, for driving -- and driving Patty and me -- way out of their way to provide so much friendship and support of all varieties, and to Jim and Kristan for all that plus their house and shower and gaseous dog. Life is so good. Holy smokes, this brief note is looking like an over-long Oscar speech.

So finally, speaking of Oscars, thanks to Chas and Scott and Pete and Amanda, one of whom actually HAS thanked people, Oscar in hand, for a wonderful and mind-boggling yet somehow non-intimidating dinner. Which is another blog entry waiting to happen. But now, we all need to get back to other work.

And speaking of we-all, thank you guys for all the support, encouragement and advice. I owe you.

Blimey

You find the moment in the strangest places, and hardly ever where you’re looking for it.

As the Alcatraz and Golden Gate swim weekend rotates to its new position behind me, it makes the transformation that everything makes, from a series of moments to a collection of moments. I’m now free to view those moments in any order or priority I want. I like to set the viewer on random, but once in a while a single moment will rise to the top, not because it’s a better moment, but maybe because it sums up all the others so well.

The swims were epic, which is the word we adventure dorks like to use for “miserable at the time but awesome once everything turns out OK.” The Saturday swim from Alcatraz had us jumping off a seriously tilted boat (the spectators on the upper deck needed to see the action on the port side, after all) into a flotilla of the Dolphin Club's escort kayaks and Zodiacs (it looked like an Earth-friendly D-day) and surprisingly warm (56 degrees; these things are relative) and pretty choppy water. The real challenge was that the flood tide (the tide flowing into the bay, from our right to our left) was stronger than expected. The big concern was supposed to be the ebb tide (left to right, following the flood), because it was stronger than usual from the snowmelt and had the potential to push us past the entrance to the harbor and seaward. So the plan was to cheat to the left, and the result was a free ride way, way to the left. So we swam a little farther than planned – swim times were about 50% longer than last year’s. But out of 80-some swimmers, only one reached shore aboard a boat instead of their own power.

The after-swim wrap-up was one of the most impressive parts of the weekend. Did I mention that this swim was a function of, and fundraiser for, SwimFAST? This was all about the Foundation for Aquatic Safety and Training, which teaches kids to swim and therefore prevent drowning deaths. It’s a part of a youth swim program in Phoenix called Swim Neptune. So most of the swimmers were kids. A few adults, like me, were along for the thrill, challenge and adventure as well, and the South End Rowing Club provided a near 1-to-1 ratio of escort swimmers for the kids. There’s something about wrapping up a swim like that, then waiting to receive your finisher’s plaque and t-shirt until after the kids get theirs. And I do mean kids. The first wave was kids under 10 years old. Five years ago at the same age, each would have been the youngest in history to do that. There were nine of them.

Sunday’s swim across the Golden Gate almost didn’t happen. The bad weather had turned downright snotty, and the swim was almost canceled. We took the boat to the south tower of the Golden Gate Bridge while Bay swimming legend Bob Roper and other experts from the South End Rowing Club watched conditions. When they saw a brief window of opportunity, we lined up and dove in. Go … go … go … it was like airborne infantrymen leaving a plane (back to D-day!), with waves roaring as loudly as the propellers on any DC-3. It was an intimidating start to an intimidating swim. I’d estimate the chop at four to five feet, and from any direction. Sometimes your catch and pull would catch and pull nothing but air. Sometimes your recovery arm would never break the surface. It was scary. It was hard work. It was splendid. Somehow approaching the boat bouncing in the waves off Lime Rock was a bit of disappointment as much as it was a relief. Well, eventually a relief. The climb aboard was even a little epic.

There were myriad moments within those moments. But The Moment, the moment that summed them all up, took place in the hotel elevator. I had showered and warmed up, we'd packed up and we were headed out. We shared the elevator with a couple of sailors who, judging by the graphics on their jackets, had been part of the regatta we steamed past on our way home from the swim.

I asked one of them, “You’re round-the-world sailors?”

He replied, “Workin’ on it, mate.”

I said, “Whoa. You guys impress the hell out of me.” Because they do.

He deflected that as best he could, and when the doors opened and I headed out with the luggage, I heard Patty behind me telling him, “This from a guy who swam across the Golden Gate a couple of hours ago.”

“This morning?”

“This morning.”

“Blimey.”

Blimey, indeed. That’s exactly the kind of weekend it was. The kind of life this is. Blimey.

Calm and cool

San Francisco is an exciting place to be in general, but it's even more appealing when you can get a good, clear look at Alcatraz. Which, it turns out, you can, straight out the window of our hotel room. No haze. Perfect angle. The island looks so close as to seem fake.

I'm sure the distance will seem a little more real tomorrow morning when we all jump off the boat and into the water off the east shore of the island at around 9:40. The bay is calm and cool tonight and should remain so for tomorrow's swim. When I say calm, yes, I am remembering tides and currents. And when I say cool, I'm remembering that that, too, is relative. It's 56 degrees. I've swam in colder.

I'm calm and cool, too. The trip out here went well until we arrived in Oakland, and then friends picked us up and things turned terrific. Dinner was wonderful, and I made it to the pre-swim briefing in time to hear about the calm and cool nature of the bay, and now I'm calm and cool, too.

My shoulder feels good. Indeed, today's traveling gave me cause to think that the injury might not even be the result of swimming too much or too carelessly, but just as likely the result of schlepping big bags of heavy clothing and books over previous weeks. I'll swim well. Patty gets to watch. My coach Rich came down from Arcata to watch, and my cousin and her family are up from Los Angeles. All that is unbelievably flattering and appreciated; let's even say touching.

And now another morning for the lifetime highlight reel is just a sleep and a breakfast away.

Cool.