Free Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox Page A

Association in Dover and become a member of the organization. They would send an official along on the swim to make sure the crossing was done under English Channel rules. He explained that Icould get a list of names of pilots. These were mostly fishermen who knew the tides and currents in the Channel, and, for a fee, they would accompany a swimmer, helping with navigation and ensuring the swimmer’s safety during the crossing.
    After dinner, we moved into the living room and sat down. I asked Fahmy how long it had taken him to swim the Channel. A pained look quickly crossed his face, and he drew in a deep breath. He said he had attempted the English Channel five times and each time he encountered poor conditions. Swimming breaststroke with his head above water didn’t help either. He was a slow swimmer, and the tide was faster than he was, so on his first and second attempts, he was carried with the tide in an enormous circle, not even getting within sight of the English shore.
    On his third attempt, his pilot got lost in the fog and guided him in the entirely wrong direction, back toward the Belgian coast. Despite this, Fahmy didn’t give up. He swam for twenty-six hours. With a trembling voice he said, “I got within four hundred yards of the English coast. I could see those very beautiful white cliffs of Dover and the pebbles on the beach. The water was very calm, and I rolled over on my back for a moment to rest. King Farouk, the king of Egypt, was standing on the shore. He waved to me. Suddenly two men in the boat put a blanket under me and lifted me out of the water before I could stop them. They thought I had passed out from the cold water. By putting that blanket under me, they disqualified me.” He paused.
    “King Farouk told me afterward, ‘Fahmy, it broke my heart when you did not finish.’ And I told him, ‘It broke my heart too.’”
    After all those years, the pain of not finishing was still apparent. He said that the English Channel had been his greatest disappointment and also the source of his great inner strength. Fahmy believed that long-distance swimming is as much mental as it is physical. He said that you can be physically ready, but if you are not mentally prepared you will not make the swim. He assured me that I had the right mind-set. And he explained that there would be times when I would be tired and cold, when I didn’t think I could go any farther, but heknew that I would be able to push myself beyond the cold and the fatigue with my mental strength. Fahmy inspired me and instilled confidence in me, and I knew that when I left for England I would be carrying his dream of swimming the English Channel with me.
    Fahmy had stressed the importance of being prepared for the cold. What I needed to do was to condition to the cold on a daily basis, so that my body gradually adjusted to it, and eventually I would be able to tolerate cold temperatures much better than if I had not gone through this process. After workouts I never took hot showers, just warm or lukewarm. At night I slept with my window open to let in the cool night air, and I wore light bedclothes and used only a sheet for warmth.
    During the day, I wore sandals, never socks or shoes; that way my feet would always be exposed to the ambient air. Winters in southern California could be cool—temperatures could drop to the low forties—but I never wore a jacket or sweater, usually just a short- or long-sleeved T-shirt with pants or a skirt. Most national and Olympic swimmers shave down before a big race (they shave their entire body, sometimes including their heads) to both reduce drag and create greater sensitivity to the water. But shaving down was the last thing I wanted to do; I didn’t want to become more sensitive to the cold. Instead, I didn’t shave my legs or arms at all and hoped that this would reduce my sensitivity to the cold. This cold training diminished my ability to handle heat, not in normal daily settings, but