My aunt dropped me off on a muggy summer day in July 2022. As I climbed the stairs to the office of my physical therapist, Casey, I contemplated how to break the news.
We started off the session making small talk. As he rotated my stubborn shoulder, I finally proclaimed, “I’m going to swim from Alcatraz to San Francisco next summer.”
Casey stared at me for a few seconds before responding, “Victoria, I admire that you set goals, but this one is a stretch for you. Honestly, I think it’s impossible”.
“I know,” I said, smiling. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”
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The years 2021 and 2022 were tough in all aspects of my life. In March 2021, I fractured my hip moving my husband’s motorcycle. Then I fell ill with pneumonia in May and relapsed in June. And just when I started feeling better, I contracted COVID-19 and was carted away in an ambulance for what became a 10-day hospital stay, the first six of which I was so weak I could barely lift my arm to reach the call bell.
Upon returning home, I was confined to six weeks of bed rest. Being out of breath became my new norm, talking required use of an inhaler, and I needed in-home nursing care and physical and respiratory therapy. My husband moved out in November, filed for divorce just before Christmas, and in March I was officially, bewilderingly divorced.
Just as I started to rebound from these personal setbacks, in June 2022 I hit a deer while riding a motorcycle, shattering my clavicle. What was supposed to be a one-hour surgery turned into a three-hour procedure due to bone fragments that had shredded muscles and ligaments in my shoulder. With no PTO or sick leave, the 10-week recovery out of work quickly became a financial disaster.
I did not know what to do or how to keep going.
Soon after, my best friend suggested that I needed a fresh start to rid my “bad juju.” I initially thought she was nuts, but the more I considered it, the more my mindset changed. Later that day, I saw a video about a swim from Alcatraz to San Francisco and decided that this is what I needed — a fresh start with a new goal.
I subsequently moved to New Hampshire’s Lakes Region and started a new job. My new home enabled me to keep my horse nearby on the property, and the Lakes Region provided many beautiful swimming holes. I was finally in a good place.
In January 2023, I joined a local pool and started training for the Alcatraz Swim. I had swum, lifeguarded, taught, and coached swimming for over 15 years, but with zero open water experience I soon realized I needed to find a coach.
I called Suzan Ballmar of Breakaway Athletic Coaching and explained my goal. She tried to dissuade me, explaining that San Francisco Bay was challenging for veteran open water swimmers, never mind newbies. Also, I lived an hour away from her.
Nonetheless, I was willing to do the work and managed to convince her to coach me. In February, we established a training plan that included three written workouts per week plus a monthly in-person training session.
The first few weeks were tough. The written workouts did not look overly difficult, but my health complications made a 1,200-yard swim feel like 10 miles. Some days, it took me 90 minutes to swim 1,000 yards, after which I could barely climb out of the pool. Other days, my shoulder hurt so much I was forced to kick most of the workout.
Despite these hurdles, I made gains and Suzan was confident I’d be ready to take on San Francisco Bay. My practice distances steadily increased, and by June I was swimming 4,000 yards in just over an hour. Progress!
I booked and paid for my flights, hotel, wetsuit rental, and swim support. The big day was set for Saturday, July 8, at 8 a.m. But true to form, there was a last-minute snag five days before my swim — the store I rented my wetsuit from canceled my rental.
I called Suzan in tears. How could I secure a new wetsuit in five days while traveling across the country around the July 4th holiday? Ultimately, though, my panic was unfounded — within a few hours Suzan secured a wetsuit for me to borrow. I picked it up the next day and was on my way to California.
On July 8, I woke to a cold and windy day. My family helped me get ready in the parking lot as nerves set in. Six of us were swimming that day, all first-timers. During the safety briefing, the captain explained that the boat would be positioned up front with the fastest swimmer and the kayak in the rear trailing the group. He reminded us that the swim was not a race and described the conditions as 3 to 4-foot swells and strong currents. I thought “no big deal,” until I got out on the boat and saw the extent of 4-foot swells.
With Alcatraz looming, I glanced at my sister and said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She offered an encouraging smile and replied, “don’t worry, you got this.”
Go time. I’m third into the water. Cold shocks my body like a lightning bolt, but I kick into action and start swimming toward the first mark. True to the captain’s words, the waves are big and the current strong. I stroke hard but feel stuck in place, with little visibility above or below the water. A seal pops up next to me, then just as quickly disappears.
Occasionally, as I rotate to breathe, a wave crashes over me, rolling me onto my back. “This is insane,” I think, but then remember the hardships and near-death experiences I’ve endured. I’ve come too far to give up now. I glance back at Alcatraz and soldier on. The water is 58 degrees, but only my face is cold.
Near the halfway point, I pause in the middle of San Francisco Bay to take in the scenery and realize I’m all alone. The boat is far ahead and the kayak far behind. As I continue on and approach the shore, I remember the captain’s instructions not to go to shore without his signal, because undershooting the current could sweep me away. The boat eventually reaches me and gives the go-ahead signal, but I’m a half-mile farther down the beach than the intended finish area. My 1.5-mile swim has become more like 2 miles. As I reach landfall, my family runs down the beach to congratulate me.
My goal had been to complete the swim in under 80 minutes, which I beat handily, finishing in 50 minutes even with the extra distance. This swim is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done, rightly earning its reputation as one of the hardest swims in U.S.
Best of all, though, I accomplished what I was told was impossible.
By Victoria Dow of Pittsfield, New Hampshire.
