An Epic Day
“All right, love, time to get ready!”
5:40am. With my mom and sister, I’m on board Paul Foreman’s Pace Arrow heading to Shakespeare Beach for the start of my English Channel attempt. We barely slept last night, but it doesn’t seem to matter – the adrenaline is pumping like crazy. I can’t stop smiling.
The sweats are off, a flashing light is clipped to my goggle straps, and a glow stick is hanging down my back. I brandish the Vaseline – no Maui repeats today! I have no intention of adding swim suit cuts to the list of physical complaints I’m bound to incur during today’s endeavor. In a sign of true sisterhood, Karri slathers the goop everywhere a suit border contacts my skin so I don’t get the stuff on my goggles. Later, she’ll get GU on her jeans, GU on her workout tights, liquid Advil in her mouth (numbing her tongue), and powdered Tylenol on her fingers. What a girl.
“Here we are!” Paul calls back to me. “Swim straight for that row of sticks.” A high powered light illuminates the night-black beach. “When you start, swim a little to the right. We’ll try to catch some tide for you.”
I give Mom and Karri one last hug, take a deep breath, and jump into the black water for the short swim to shore.
I waste no time when I hit the beach. I clear the water, raise my hands in confirmation, and plunge back in for the official start. “Wow,” I’m thinking as my arms cut through the calm pre-dawn water, “I’m swimming the English Channel! I’m actually here, doing it!”
I feel fantastic in the black water. Strong. Fluid. The Pace Arrow pulls alongside me, and I can’t help but grin to everyone on board. I’m moving pretty fast, but I can’t seem to make myself slow down – I’m just too darn happy! Mom and Karri beam down at me, the deck lights illuminating huge smiles on their faces.
The sun rises. I only breathe to the right, looking always at Paul, when he pulls the cabin up alongside, or else Mom and Karri when I’m further back. I see them pointing off into the distance, and I take a few breaths to the left to see what they are pointing at. The dawn is beautiful this morning, with tones of pink and orange tinging the horizon. I go back to breathing right – it’s way more comfortable for me – and blow Mom and Karri a kiss. They laugh.
Feeding number 1 sets the tone of the entire swim. Though this is their first time crewing for me, Mom and Karri do it perfectly! The tea is perfectly sweetened and at a perfect temperature, delivered in the perfect quantity. They remembered to keep the GU warm so I could get it out of the Gel Bot easily. Karri practically throws it into my hands.
“You’re doing great!” they call to me. “This is fun!” I call back as I down the fuel. I drop the Gel Bot and I’m off, smiling with every breath. My arms continue to turn over quickly. Paul sees my grins and is first surprised, then laughs and claps for me. I look back on a breath and see the white cliffs stark against the blue sky.
The next 4 hours carry on about the same. Mom and Karri feed me every 30 minutes as planned, spiking my drinks with alternating Advil and Tylenol every hour. My hips started to burn after the first hour, but the drugs help keep them in check as I do my best to drag my legs (which is surprisingly hard when you’ve used a 6 beat kick for 20 years!) Michelle, my observer, and Paul seem to be delighted with my attitude – I’m so happy to be swimming the English Channel! I literally smile every stroke, occasionally waving to those on board. Paul mimes swimming from the cabin, and I almost choke on seawater when I crack up laughing. Karri makes good use of the white board I’ve brought along – she writes me messages, posts song lyrics to put new songs in my head, and does a number of silly things to keep me entertained. My favorite is when she writes “No Pants Time!” on the board, then takes off her (GU-encrusted) jeans to reveal black workout tights underneath and perform a little dance. Mom waves her black beret at me like she did on my 5 and 6 hour training swims (I adore when she does that, it’s so cute!) and mimes giving me huge hugs. Michelle and Paul make trips to the back of the boat, standing with Mom and Karri, cheering me on.
At 4 hours, though, I start to really feel it. My arms are burning. “Hmmm, maybe I took it out a little quick, huh?” I think to myself. My hips ache. I feel a bit cold -
“No, you are NOT cold!” I tell myself fiercely. “Keep your stroke rate steady – you can do this! You’ve swum 6 hours before, you at least have to make it that far. Just swim feed to feed like all the Channel swimmers told you. Don’t think about how far you have to go. Just think about now. Enjoy it! You’re swimming the Channel!”
I keep the smile on my face – I figure it’s going to hurt no matter what I do, I may as well have fun! As long as I’m having fun, my team will have fun, and things will be a lot easier. I blow Mom and Karri another kiss. They do a dance for me.
5 hour mark. I’m doing okay, but struggling. I was really trying not to think about it, but at the next feed, I had to ask.
“Michelle,” I gasp between gulps, “have I made it half way yet?”
Michelle scrunches up her face, grins, and nods vigorously.
“Oh good,” I say in relief. “Okay, I can do this.”
“Go Laurin!” “Of course you can!” “You’re doing brilliantly!” I smile, and I’m off again, noticing for the first time that the glow stick is no longer banging against my back.
5.5 hours. I see a message that really lifts my spirits:
MEN ON BOAT.
Neal, Daddy, and Old Grand Dad are on their way! Yay!
“How (stroke) far?” I ask.
30 TO 45 MINS.
“Cool!” Okay, the guys will be here soon, that’s a huge encouragement!
6 hours. My stroke rate is starting to drop a little. My hips ache painfully. My quads have started to complain as well, and my arms are burning more than they ever have in my entire life. I look up for the first time and I can see France! But it seems so far away.
The next thing I know, Paul in his cabin has a funny hat on his head. A breath later, he has a different one on. Then another. And another! I laugh, he grins and claps. I pick my stroke rate back up. He pulls up a little so I can see my mom and sister again. There’s a new message:
HEAD DOWN. KEEP SWIMMING!
Okay, okay, I get it – no looking ahead.
“Where are the guys?” I manage between strokes.
ON THEIR WAY. SOON.
I’m really hurting. I’ve never been in this much pain in my life. I didn’t know it was possible for swimming to hurt so much! My body is desperate for a rest, but I know I can’t stop. But I have no idea how far I have left to go, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this pace. I try not to get frustrated.
My mind wanders, and I start thinking about all my friends at the Dolphin Club, iPierian, in my neighborhood who have been so supportive all year. I think of all my friends on Facebook who sent me messages of support. I think of all the people, who I know and didn’t know, who gave me encouragement on my blog. I think of the friends, family, and strangers who believed in me enough to help me make this trip even possible through their financial support. It’s not a blur: with weird clarity, I seem to remember every conversation, every message. I’ve never before actually put together a mental list in my head like that, and I’m astounded by the number of people who believe in me.
“You are not cold. You are not tired,” I tell myself sternly. “You WILL finish this swim. All those people believe in you! Are you really going to tell them that their faith was misplaced? You CAN do this.” I plaster the smile back on my face. And keep swimming.
Another feed. My stomach is starting to feel queasy from all the electrolytes and salt water that I can’t avoid swallowing on occasion.
“Laurin, you are so amazing!” Mom says.
“You still look strong,” Michelle comments. “We might start giving you some Maxim in a bit, okay?” I nod.
“Sure, whatever will get me through this!” I laugh weakly.
“You’re doing so great!” Karri says, a huge smile illuminating her face. “The guys should be here soon!” I nod again. And keep swimming.
“We’re not taking you home until you’ve swum the Channel,” Michelle jokingly threatened. I grinned.
7 hours.
MEN ARE HERE!!! says the white board.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the boat bearing the 3 most important men in my life: My grandfather, 96 years old, sharp as a tack and still swimming, an inspiration to me since I was just a kid at a BC meet. My dad, my number 1 swim fan growing up, who didn’t just drive me to 4:45am morning practices, but stayed in the freezing cold to watch me swim, and who traveled all over the country when I was a teenager so he never once missed a swim meet. And, Neal, who piloted all my English Channel training swims, who encouraged me when I was down or scared, who supported and believed in me when my body failed me and made it difficult to believe in myself. I was so tired, and so happy, and so emotionally fragile, I couldn’t help it: I started to cry.
“Don’t cry!” Karri yelled at me.
“I’m happy!” I gasped. Breathing, swimming, talking, and crying, all at the same time, is kind of hard.
“I know, but don’t be dumb! Your goggles will fill with water!” I laughed, and cried, and swam, and felt a huge lift when they pulled alongside and I could see them all there. And as an added bonus, Brian, a friend of and mine, was also there.
“Okay!” I thought. “Now you have to finish! They just got here, you can’t just quit after all they went through to get to you and see you swim! You can do it, just keep going!”
Feeding time. With Maxim. Tastes icky, but actually does work wonders.
“Hurry, you’re losing ground!” Paul called frantically.
“Huh?” I said. Paul had never rushed me on a feeding yet.
“Get going!”
Confused, I dropped the bottle and my now expanded support team cheered excitedly. As it turned out, I had just entered the South to North current off of Cap Gris-Nez, the point that juts out from France. Paul needed me to punch through it so I could land on the point. I could see it in the distance. Out of some deep recess of my body that I didn’t know existed, I found a way to pick up the pace, going faster than I had for the previous 2 hours. Paul nodded to me through the cabin window and clapped.
A splash. Neal was in the water, swimming with me! But did he know the rules? Neal had to stay behind me, and he could not touch me or I’d be disqualified! Of course he knew that, but in my current condition most logic was completely absent from my brain.
“Make sure he doesn’t touch me!” I yelled. They called him over to the Pace Arrow for a companion swimmer in-service. After a little while longer in the water, Neal was back on the other boat and front and center where I could see him, fist pumping the air, cheering me on.
8 hours. I was in agony. Sheer agony. My brain was so overwhelmed with pain that I couldn’t really think clearly. France seemed so close…it was there, just there, or so it seemed. What was that speck? Oh my gosh, it’s a boat, and it looks like an ant! I must still be really far away if a boat looks so small from here! But I can’t keep up this pace! But if I slow down, I might miss the point and have an extra mile to swim! I can’t miss the point, oh my gosh, I just can’t. I started to panic. My stroke became erratic. I was hyperventilating. I was losing it. Totally losing it.
Suddenly, Paul’s face was pressed against the window of the cabin, both fingers pointing to his own eyes. He held up a hand and slowly lowered it, then pointed back to his eyes. The message was clear. “Calm down. Focus on my eyes. Look at me. There’s a good girl.”
I started to breathe again. My stroke stretched out once more. I opened my own eyes wide and stared straight at Paul.
Karri held out the Gel Bot for another feed. I took it gratefully. Paul came to the back.
“Calm down, Laurin,” he said.
“Am I going to miss it?” I asked weakly.
“No no, you’re through the current. All the hard work’s done! You did it all back there! Just go at your own pace. You’ll finish this.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“We’ve never had a swimmer like you,” Michelle said. “You can do this, it’s right there!”
It was the most painful mile in the history of my 20 years of swimming. Every muscle fiber I possessed was on fire. My stomach was clenching nauseously. My joints ached fiercely. But it also the most glorious mile in the history of my 20 years of swimming. Slowly and steadily, France got closer and closer. I tried to keep my stroke long and my turnover up, though it was clear that I had dropped the pace down. Whenever I started to think I couldn’t do it, I would look up at my sister, jumping up and down in excitement on the boat, smiling at me. I was touched.
“You’re little sister is proud of you,” I thought. “Don’t let her down!”
15 minutes from shore, I saw Karri put on a swim suit and stuff her chic cropped hair into a bright pink cap.
“I must be close!” I thought, “if Karri’s getting ready to swim in with me!” I lifted my head. I could see kayakers ahead, just off the point.
“Go Laurin!” everyone cheered. The end was so close. I just wanted to rest.
“Just those rocks there!” Michelle called to me. I heard a splash. Then another. Karri and Neal were both right behind me, finishing this epic swim with me.
I could see rocks underwater. Then, suddenly, my hand touched one. I tucked my feet under me – my hips sighed gratefully – and touched down on a rock. France. I was in France! Cheers exploded behind me as my mind tried, unsuccessfully, to register that I’d just swum the English Channel.
“Laurin, that’s good enough!” a voice said in a haze. I didn’t understand. “No,” I thought, “no, I have to clear the water.” I put out a hand for another rock, higher up, and slowly pulled myself up out of the water to stand.
Mistake! After a split second of standing, my wobbly legs gave out and I crashed back down to the rocks, banging my knees and scraping my hands. I didn’t care. I couldn’t move any more. I put my arms around the nearest rock and clung to it, and my body went into shut-down mode. All my muscles froze up. My body started to shiver uncontrollably. I rested my head on my arms. I just wanted to go to sleep.
“Great job, Lo!” Neal said, hugging me.
“You’re a rock star!” Karri cried. Dazed, I continued to cling to my life-saving rock.
“C’mon, Laurin, let’s go back to the boat.”
“No,” I managed through chattering teeth. “Just let me stay here for a while.”
“Let’s go, hun. We need to get you taken care of,” Neal said.
“Huh?” I looked up uncomprehendingly, trying to coax my mind back into action. Karri took one arm, Neal the other, and helped me off my rock. Gingerly, doing my best not to incur further scrapes and bruises, I flopped unceremoniously back into the water and limped back to the boat.
“I love you,” I managed to Neal and Karri before shakily ascending the ladder back on deck. Paul caught me up and lifted me over the railing, into a warm, dry towel and the arms of my mom.
“Great job, sweetie!!” Mom said. I smiled tiredly. I pulled my cap and goggles off my head and sank gratefully to the deck.
We made it back to England in record time. I vomited viciously over the side of the boat about 20 minutes into the trip, but then felt immesly better. Snuggled in my parka, dry, warm, and most importantly, immobile, I watched France drop away behind us. I swam to France. I actually did it! I’m a Channel swimmer now! Exhausted happiness coursed through my body.
This was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Ever. And the coolest part for me was, even though I was the only one swimming, I was definitely not alone. Even 3 days later, I’m still amazed at how many people got behind me to make this happen. It’s humbling to realize how many people rallied together to help me. I’d never have survived without Mom and Kare-bear. Crewing for this sort of thing actually kind of sucks – it’s really hard work for a really long time, and they totally rocked it! They were my heroes. I don’t think I’d have been able to finish without Old Grand Dad, Daddy, and Neal showing up when they did. They gave me a huge boost when I needed it the most. I wouldn’t have had the strength without the waves of support I could draw on from everyone who added their voices of confidence and support all year. I wouldn’t have been able to be here in the first place without the financial backing of my friends and family. And Paul and Michelle did a great job for me that day. Thank you to all.
It was truly an epic day, and I will remember it forever.