Solo Recap

Fall 1994: This past summer, I swam the English Channel. Here is a brief recap of my swim. -Marcia Cleveland

Swimming for me is almost synonymous with breathing. I do it on a very regular basis. I learned to swim when I was a year and a half old and swam on teams throughout my youth, adolescence, and collegiate years. After college, I moved to New York City and on to "real life." During those years, I made lots of life changes but never altered my habit of swimming regularly. I added running, biking, and a few other activities for a change of pace but they always seem to feel supplementary.

It's only fair to mention that my idea of swimming is not to relax pool-side in this season's newest fashion. Rather, it means exercise to me, vigorous at the least. Beware if I inquire, "Want to go to the beach?" It's probably not what you have in mind.

In 1985, I made my first real open water swim, a short 2 miles across Lake Washington, in Seattle, with much trepidation. Something surprised me about it: I liked it. No walls, no boundaries, lots of endurance required, and colder water. Over the next few years as I swam more and more outdoors, I started to feel comfortable in this environment and began to conquer my fear that the "Big Fish" was going to get me. I entered a few local open water races and in 1991, I decided to swim around Manhattan. I loved this 28-1/2 mile race but towards the end of it, I felt like it had been "a piece of cake." As I passed the World Trade Center, I thought I'd give the English Channel a try.

In April 1994, I turned 30. I made swimming the Channel a 30th birthday present to myself and focused on this goal for three years. After breaking down the components and identifying the pieces, I set out to deal with each one. For the actual swimming distance, I increased my swimming to over 25 miles each week and included several hours-long straight swims. I also started to lift weights again. For the isolation and monotony I experienced in my training, I developed ways to keep myself occupied and amused. For the rough water conditions, I swam against the current in turbulent, choppy seas. I also spent time in fog and with various types of marine life so I would know how to deal with each of them. And certainly not least of all, there was the cold Channel water which I correctly anticipated would be in the low 60's. I put on 15 pounds while acclimating myself to the point where 58 degree water felt "warm."

One of the most challenging components was getting a Leave of Absence for the summer from my position as an advertising sales representative for Petersen Publishing Company. When I received the green light for this in February, the big stress was off; now it was the Channel and me. But I still had lots of training to do as well as to hone my job to the point where my colleagues could take over for the summer, and then move to Maine for 3 weeks where I set up my own intensive training camp.

In a quick blink, it seemed that all of a sudden it was the end of July and I was in Dover, England waiting for good weather. I didn't wait long. My first day to make an attempt was forecast as quite swimmable so I set off at 4:09am on Friday July 29th from Abbot's Cliff in England, determined that my next stop would be somewhere in France. From my escort boat, my husband, Mark Green, administered hot liquids to me every 30 minutes, and kept a close eye on my course which the boat pilot precisely tracked. Mark knew from our pre-Channel discussions that with good conditions, I felt I could swim the Channel in under 10 hours. His constant attentiveness and encouragement during my swim gave me the opportunity to make this goal a reality. Our friend, Terry Tyner, wrote me regular informational and inspirational messages on a greaseboard, helping to keep my mind off the creatures lurking within my active imagination.

When I began my swim, it was dark and I was really scared. What provided me with courage and strength during this time was thinking about all the people who had been so supportive of my efforts and were just hoping I'd make it. I think I took a stroke for each and every one of them.

It took me three to four hours to settle into the swim. By then, we were nearly through the westbound shipping lanes after having seen dozens of big boats, ferries, and supertankers. I admit it: I was a tourist and looked around a lot in the beginning. At 3-1/2 hours, Mark told me I was on pace for an 11 hour swim and Did I want to pick it up? So, for 15 minutes of every hour during the next few hours, I'd sprint similar to the workouts I did in Maine. These bursts helped move the pace along and soon we were into the eastbound shipping lanes with France in clear view. During my seventh hour sprint session, I started sprinting and just never stopped until I hit land.

I felt fine the whole way. None of those "horror stories" that we've all heard about applied to my swim. Conditions were fairly calm: 1 to 2 foot chop and rolling swells with strong cross currents, Force 2 winds, and overcast skies. I never felt cold or exhausted and never cried or begged to get out. My left shoulder hurt but that was chronic and my own doing. I didn't get seasick or stung by any jellyfish, and all those other calamities, real and imagined. I was simply doing that day what I felt I could do: swim the English Channel. And all the preparation was paying off.

When I hit the boulders on the French coast at Cap Gris Nez at 1:53pm, 9 hours and 44 minutes after setting off from England, my first thoughts were, "Oh my God, I made it!" Not that I ever doubted otherwise but the sense of elation and satisfaction of having done a job well was unexpectedly overwhelming. I gazed up at the lighthouse in awe and knew that all of the training I had done was right. These realizations really started to hit me in the boat on the way back to England, bringing tears of joy. They still do.

Swimming the English Channel is an unusual feat. There are no big prizes for this achievement except the best one of all: Accomplishing what I thought I could do.