With Quinton Nelson, one of the best boat pilots, holding my course chart.

Lake Tahoe Swim Synopsis
Marcia Cleveland       Monday to Tuesday August 28-29, 2017
Length of Lake Tahoe Swim  21.3 miles (34.3K),  
​11 hours, 26 minutes, 53 seconds
Start: 8:56PM, Pacific Time, Camp Richardson Boat Ramp, South Lake Tahoe, California
Finish: 8:22AM, Pacific Time, Hyatt Beach, Incline Village, Nevada
Water Temperature: 68-69F (20C)
Air Temperature: 70-50sF     (21-10C)
Conditions: Calm, No currents pushing N/S. Several surface currents pushing in a sideways and circular manner. Moon Set about midnight, crystal clear starry night. Very Dark waters that descended downward
Water Depth: 0 to 1600+ Feet (487m.)
Boat: Ghost Rider                              Pilot: Tom Linthicum
Observer: Robin Rose                        Crew: Gillian Hulse     Kayaker: K1
Tandem Swim Partner: Chris Layton. His Boat was piloted by Captain Clay
Observer: Dave Van Mouwerik         Crew: Joe Gray           Kayaker: K2
I started writing these notes on the plane home from Tahoe to Chicago, on September 1st, and then for the next several daysthereafter. I tried many times to write something – anything – while we were in Tahoe but the beautiful scenery, combined with gazing out on the lake, distracted me every time.  Dreamy thoughts kept wandering into my head, such as, “WOW!” “That was a long way to swim.” “It was really really dark out there.” It was only when I was crammed into my economy plane seat home that I could focus on what had occurred.  Herein lies the story of this swim.
 
Lake Tahoe is a beautiful lake. To swim the 21.3 miles of her length is a challenge and she tested me well. I have great respect for Mother Nature, the Weather Gods, God herself, who I feel play a big role in our lives, especially mine. Thank you for allowing me to complete this swim. And a special thanks goes to the Tahoe Tessie for giving me permission to cross. 
 
I went into this swim with a lot of respect, with the understanding that I may fail.  I prepared myself to the best of MYability, mentally and physically, to get as far as I could but then many deities would be in charge. We brought water from Lake Michigan as a Peace offering, combining the two waters just before the start.  Maybe it helped, even just a little bit.
 
In the Fall of 2016 I decided to swim the length of Lake Tahoe right after we dropped our daughter, Julia, off at Kenyon College for her Freshman year. Since she had now found physical and emotional safety after four difficult years in high school years, I felt secure and available enough to pursue some of my own goals. I had heard about the Lake Tahoe through the open water community and I decided to focus upon it. A few weeks later, I added Swim Across the (Long Island) Sound, “SAS,” at the beginning of August, to my 2017 goals, creating my “August Double.” The write-up of that swim is at DoverSolo.com
 
My #1 Goal for both of these swims was to finish.  The big challenges, primarily the darkness and altitude, that presented themselves while I was swimming Tahoe, were supplanted when I reminded myself of my primary goal. Finishing this swim was in the forefront of my mind for the ENTIRE swim and the months leading up to it. There were so many times in training that I would envision myself in either the Long Island Sound or in a darkened Lake Tahoe, churning away. 
 
Some basics of all Marathon Swims:
This swim observed Channel Swimming Rules. Thank you Captain Matthew Webb for establishing these standards in 1875.
1. The swim starts on the natural shore with no sea-water behind. 
We walked into the Lake from the Boat Ramp at Camp Richardson, South Lake Tahoe, California.
2. The swim finishes on the natural shore, with no sea-water beyond, unless the finish is against steep cliffs, when it is sufficient to touch them with no sea-water beyond. 
We finished on the sand at Hyatt Beach, Incline Village, North Lake Tahoe, Nevada.
3. The swimmer receives no help and must not be touched by anyone, but may be handed food and drink. 
I received my food initially from my kayaker, then from the boat. I did not get out to rest nor did I touch anyone or anything except what was handed to me for feedings. I swam continuously for the entire swim except for the sub-one-minute feeds I had every 30 minutes, when I would be on my back kicking as I consumed my feed.
4. The swimmer may wear: 
a. Only ONE STANDARD swimming cap.  I wore a silicone cap.
b. Only ONE STANDARD swimming costume.  I wore a women’s one-piece Speedo Lycra suit, size 36, the same one purple one I wore in Tampa Bay and SAS this year.
c. Goggles, nose-clip, ear plugs, and grease.  I wore clear TYR Racetech goggles. Before I started, I applied Vaseline and Destin on my chafe points, namely the sides of my chest along my suit, completely around my neck, and between my thighs. I also applied SPF 50 Sunscreen to my limbs.
d. A light stick and head lights at night.   I wore both; the light stick was safety pinned to my suit at the small of my back and two blinkie headlights were clipped to my goggle strap at the back of my head.
 
I did not wear, nor do I own, a wetsuit.
 
Why did you swim with Chris?
Chris and I planned to do a “Tandem Swim,” wherein we would swim together for the duration of the swim. We have done this previously in 2 long swims, the Chicago Shoreline Swim and the Anacapa portion of the Santa Barbara Channel. With the concerns about not knowing how the altitude would affect either of us in Tahoe, we agreed to contract for two boats and two kayakers, in case one of us needed to be pulled from the water for medical reasons and quickly ferried to shore.  We also went into this swim with the understanding that if one of us wanted to go faster, the faster swimmer would proceed forward with their own boat. This was completely ok with both of us. 
 
Why did we start at almost 9pm at night?
The water is usually calmer and thus, swimming is easier. Lake Tahoe is 12 miles wide and 22 miles long, classifying it as a large body of water. In such a place, the wind often picks up during the day, making for choppy water, especially in the late afternoon. Adding to this choppiness in Lake Tahoe are the wakes generated by boat traffic, specifically boats of all sizes, jet skis, and water skiers. When the sun sets, many of these factors subside. Lake Tahoe is not affected by tides so this major aspect of an open water swim is taken out of the equation to determine the start time, an entirely different kettle of fish.
 
What did you eat when you were swimming, and how did you do it?
After the 1sthour, and every 30 minutes until I finished, I received a fliptop bottle (Rubbermaid 20 ounces, purchased on Amazon.com) with either 12 ounces of Endurox or Protein Powder, (Endurox R4, Tangy Orange; GNC Pro Performance 100% Whey, Natural Vanilla) plus a Hammer Gel (either Vanilla or Espresso flavored), attached to the bottle with a plastic wristband. After a swim, I usually don’t want to see these nutrients for a while. 
 
Two minutes before a feed, I get a sign.  In the dark at Lake Tahoe, it was a strobe light. In daylight, someone holds up 2 fingers, and I indicate I got the message, usually with a verbal “Yep” or “Thanks” or a head nod. From there, I count 120 strokes which takes me about 2 minutes, then I looked for the feed. 
 
While the kayak was in the water, I was handed these feeds by the kayaker and handed them back when I was done, without touching or being pulled by the kayak or boat. That would constitute ‘assistance’ and my swim would be over. When I received the feeds from the boat, the bottle was attached to a rope and Gill threw it to me. I would first eat the gel, attach it back to the bottle, so as not to pollute – very important!, then drink the liquid, and let go. Gill would pull it back in then set up the next feed. The whole process takes 30 to 45 seconds. One thing we learned in Tahoe is to have at least one end of the rope attached to a carabiner that can be clipped to a person on the boat so Gill, or another crew member, doesn’t again have to make a Herculean catch to the boat-end of the rope before it goes into the water, along with the bottle, as she did once.
 
While I am feeding, the crew and others generally say things to me like, “How are you?” “We’re going in that direction, towards those lights,” etc. I usually respond briefly with hand signals (thumbs up or shortly-worded answers) then it’s off to swim again. 
 
I am still experimenting with my feedings. In Tahoe, I did the same as in SAS: Start my feeds after one hour then every 30 minutes thereafter. Feeds consist of 2 times (12 oz Endurox + 1 Gel) then 1x (12 oz Protein powder + 1 Gel). This pattern continues through the swim so I received a protein drink at hours 2, 3½, 5, 6½, 8, etc. I use Vanilla or Raspberry Hammer Gels because this flavor goes down and stays down. Every 2 hours, starting at the 3rdhour, I get an Espresso gel. This bit of caffeine keeps me going throughout the night. My fellow Swim Director, Andrea Rudser-Rusin, who is a registered Dietician and multi-Ironman Finisher, i.e. she understands fueling for a long endurance event, suggested taking the caffeine after my metabolism was up and running.  This timing worked well and was an excellent recommendation. (I once took an Espresso gel right before starting a swim and my limbs felt all tingly and freezing, probably as a reaction to the caffeine.)  Just in case I got hungry for some solid food, I had some G-F rolls and ginger snap cookies on the boat, which I actually ate afterwards but not during the swim. 
Around 3 ½ hours into the swim, the feeds started to feel heavy in my stomach so I requested them at ½ strength and this alleviated the situation. Gill thinks I need to rethink having only water when I ingest the gels so I may be overhauling my feeding program going forward.  They seem to require more water to be absorb than I’m rightfully giving them.
 
Before I began, I took 1 Aleve and did not take any more during the swim, although my right shoulder was aching by the end.  If I feel I need one, I can have one at 6 hours upon request. In a 24-hour period, I limit myself to a total of 3 Aleves. In the hour before the swim began, I took 1 Meclizine pill (for potential seasickness), drank 24 oz. Endurox, and ate one gel.  
 
About a week before the swim, I stopped intentionally eating sugary food and gave up drinking any alcohol for the three weeks before. For three days before the swim, I stopped my usual 1-2 cups of coffee/tea. This caffeine fast ended around 4 hours before the start when I had a medium-sized Vanilla Latte from Starbucks, to help me stay awake all night. 
I eat normal food for all meals and take an occasional multi-vitamin but no supplements. 
About 6pm, I ate a chicken breast with mayonnaise, some Brussel sprouts, and potatoes with butter for dinner. For some reason before my long swims this summer, I craved mayonnaise and butter, probably for the fat. I usually don’t eat these foods. After this swim, and most of my long swims, I wasn’t hungry for about 18 hours but was very thirsty for water. All normal bodily functions returned to normal within 36 hours post-swim. Sorry about the TMI.
 
A swimmer can never say it too often: these long swims are a group effort and take the extraordinary, focused acts of all involved for the entire duration of the swim.  My husband, Mark Green, usually accompanies me on my swims but due to his work schedule and our son, Sam, needing to attend daily High School Cross Country practices, Mark stayed home with Sam this time. Gill Hulse stepped in as my crew, and she was superb in so many ways. She encouraged me the entire way and managed all of my feedings with precision.  Her ability to be a quick study, work well with others, and remain calm was a major part of my success. I’m looking forward to The Next Swim together. Thank you, Gill! 

One of the best swim coaches I have ever had, Foster de Jesus, sent me this below message a few days before I left for Tahoe that deeply resonated with me during my trip. I took his insights to heart and thought about them a lot when I was swimming. Thank you, Foster!
I enjoyed reading your SAS recap and especially impressed (though mostly implied) with your commitment to training, not that it surprised me.  You have always had the focus few swimmers have, a focus you carried right through SAS.  Marathon swimming is not so much as to question how far you have gone or how far do you have to go, but it is a swim that is broken up into pieces and you build mechanisms that work for the moment. Get through one moment and then attack the next.  And that feeling of touching that ladder is one no one really understands until they experienced personally. 


To prepare for my “August Double,” I swam 30 to 40,000 yards most weeks for the months leading up to August 2017. There were many times it was a drag to get to the pool over the long winter months. Maybe it’s a good sign as to the sanity of my friends but when I’m swimming this type of yardage I don’t have a ton of swimming buddies who are interested in joining me for a 3- to 4-hour swim. Coming up with workout suggestions can be a challenge as well after I have seemingly exhausted my own ideas and the many variations I give each one.  Thank you, Dave Samuelsohn, for giving me some useable, intelligent sets that tested me in ways I wasn’t considering, especially late in the game.  You know how I swim and I very much appreciate your willing input.  
 
The components of swimming the length of Lake Tahoe include: 
Water temperature - I was expecting it to be in the low 60sF/16C
Distance - 21.3 miles/34.3K
Altitude – 6225 feet above sea level/1900M.
The factor that scared me the most was the altitude.
 
My friend, Stephanie Henry, told me a big way she has adapted to living in the mountains of Colorado is to drink lots of water. She told me, “HYDRATE like crazy.”  Four days out from the swim, I committed to drinking 2 Gallons (7.5 liters) of water a day. I had a ½ liter bottle that I placed a piece of masking tape around, and marked the hours from 4AM to 8PM. In order to cross off an hour, I had to drink it’s entirety and refill the bottle. And so it went for the next 4 days. I was either drinking from my bottle, refilling it, or in the bathroom. By Saturday, besides being ready to float away, I couldn’t get my pants zipped since I was really filling up so I switched to stretch-tops only.  I noticed during “The Great Fill Up” my intake started to exceed my output, hence I was actually absorbing a lot of this liquid. On Sunday and Monday, I switched off between water and Gatorade. 
 
Another thing I did to prepare for the altitude was to take 3 Tylenol pills a day, also starting 4 days out. (Apparently, Advil also works well.) I did all this altitude prep right up to the start of the swim.
 
After nearly a year’s worth of training, we traveled to Lake Tahoe on Saturday August 25th. We flew into Sacramento, then rented a car and drove the 2+ hours east to Tahoe. (The airports in Reno and Carson City are also options.)  We stayed at an Airbnb in the Camp Richardson section of South Lake Tahoe (SLT).  This western end of SLT is quieter and less crowded than the more commercialized, eastern side.
 
Around 6pm on Saturday, Chris, Joe, Gill, Maddy (Chris’s niece who lives & works in Sacramento, and was with us for the weekend), and I went to Pope Beach for a practice swim. (In order to avoid the $10 gate fee, we parked on the street and walked the 5 minutes in to the beach.)  At 73F, the water felt great and was sooooo clear!  I was not gasping for air as I expected I would be after our short 20-minute swim. Yahoo! This swim had real potential for me now. 
 
On Sunday morning, Chris and I went to Emerald Cove to watch Dave finish the Viking Swim, 10 ½ miles from Cave Rock to Vikingsholm House. Emerald Cove is spectacularin color and scenery. We met Dave’s wife, Lisa, there and Dave finished in just under 6 hours, an excellent effort.  Gill had been given the opportunity to observe this swim and she took this responsibility like the champ she is. Her newly gained crew/observer knowledge was of great benefit to my swim starting on Monday night. 
 
We had a post-swim brunch at the iconic Burt’s Diner, which is fast becoming the “White Horse” of South Lake Tahoe. Then I took a 3-hour afternoon nap before we repeated the same Saturday swim at Pope Beach, as a final tune up. Dinner followed then I went to bed for the night.  In the days leading up to a big swim, I try to keep my main focus on eating and sleeping.
 
On Monday morning, we got everything ready for the swim before meeting Tom and Robin for a 2-hour pre-swim lunch meeting. At this meeting, Tom implied he had everything under control and all was well.  Tom has a lot of experience and passion with this Tahoe swim. He and Dave have made enormous strides in the creation of the Lake Tahoe Marathon Swim Federation and it is growing into a great organization. http://www.laketahoemarathonswimfederation.com.  
 
We hashed out many of the details that would take place during the swim: positioning, feeds, timing, and start/finish procedures. I told Tom that I wanted to be positioned mid-boat (at “3 o’clock”) so when I breathe, I would be looking right at the boat pilot or paddler. This positioning provides comfort and allows the boat to do the navigation, instead of the swimmer. If the boat (or kayaker) is ahead, I have to look up and crane my neck which causes a lot of neck strain during the duration of a swim. With the exception of right after a feed when the kayaker must get resupplied from the boat or other specific events, I do not like to ever be leading the boat.  This makes me feel exposed and vulnerable, susceptible to being run over from a myriad of directions by a multitude of vehicles. Because my usual kayaker, Richard, could not make it to Tahoe at the last minute due to work commitments, K1 volunteered. I met him that evening, at Camp Richardson as we were loading up for the start, and repeated these essential instructions to him.
 
I took a 2-hour nap after lunch then got up around 5pm to prepare for our departure to Camp Richardson and the start. Gill and I had made a dry run to both Camp Richardson and to the Tahoe Keys Marina on Saturday night when it was dark, to make sure we could find them when it mattered.
 
Chris and Joe picked us up at 7:20pm and we drove to Camp Richardson, parking by the Harbormaster’s Office on the far-right side of the area.  For the past few weeks, I felt the usual pre- stress that comes with any major undertaking and while in Tahoe, I had become quiet and focused.  To insure I do all the little things that need to happen during this critical time, I have developed a Pre-Start List that I go over item by item, that started from the time I woke up from my afternoon nap. Gill helped me through this list and notably earns a gold medal for applying Destin to me on areas near and far. 
 
With both crews and swimmers attending, Dave went over the official rules of the swim before Chris and I walked from the pier to the boat ramp for the start.  I felt ok and ready but certainly nervous. I still didn’t know how the altitude would affect me over this type of swim distance and most recently, I noticed just how DARK it had become.  When we were ready, our observers, Robin and Dave counted down “5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO!” and the clock started when our feet hit the water on the boat ramp.  
 
Within the first 100 strokes, Big Brave Me had two mini-panic attacks. I needed to swim backstroke two different times during these 100 strokes to get myself to stop hyperventilating and get my emotions under control. This situation probably resulted from the excitement of The Start. It was all finally coming together, RIGHT NOW.A year’s worth of planning, training, wondering, plotting, and on and on.  Here I was, swimming into the unknown (the temperature, the depth, the darkness), so I took these panic attacks in stride and addressed them for what they were.  Once I was sufficiently warmed up and met up with the boat, I thought I’d be ok, and this is what happened. (At Hour 7, I remember saying to myself, “I feel sufficiently warmed up up now,” HAHA!  So Typical! I was way, way over my panic attacks by then.) 
 
I actually don’t mind swimming in the dark, and much prefer it on a long swim because you get a portion of the swim done before you can see how much you still have to go.  With this swim starting at 8:56pm, I knew we’d be swimming in the dark for 9+ hours, since I expected the swim to take between 10 and 12 hours. Realistically, if all went well, the day would be dawning and there would be just a few more hours to go. 
 
Even though I was in good shape, my Tahoe pacing plan was to start out slowly, a.k.a. ~1:40/100 yards. At sea level, I was swimming faster, in the sub-1:30/100 yards range, but during the weeks between SAS and Tahoe, I was deliberating swimming more slowly in training. First off, because I was still tired and recovering from SAS, and secondly, as an approach to pacing myself to be able to handle the altitude.
 
Once Chris and I had cleared the pier, we were in a good rhythm. I realized the water temperature was ok, for at least now, and I only needed the top 3 feet of water to swim in, not the remaining 1597 feet…..  (Robert: there were no phosphorescence in the water but that was a good question.  I, too, wondered about that going into this swim.) Up until midnight, when the quarter moon set, it was very dark.  Then it got seriously dark.  Because the water is so clear in Lake Tahoe, I could always see Chris, illuminated underwater by his light stick and green headlight. (We will find a better, less blinding solution to the green blinkie headlight, Chris. At least the red-colored light worked well.) But beyond Chris’s outline and the lit boats, nothing.  To get the idea of our view, go into a windowless closet at night, close the door, and wave your hands in front of your face with your eyes open. That was what we saw when we looked down and ahead. It took me several hours to adjust to the descending darkness of this 2nddeepest lake in North America, with a maximum depth of 1645 feet (501m.) I did so because I had a goal to finish this swim.  Starting at night actually made this easier because I never saw the drastic drop off to 1000 feet (305m.) within a mile and to 1500 feet (457m.) by two.
 
In drastic contrast to the black chasm of water below, the diamonded carpet of stars above us was a spectacular sight. Whichever side I turned my head to breathe to, I got a twinkling display of the glorious heavens above. My knowledge of astronomy is quite limited but in the wee hours, I could pick out the Big Dipper when I breathed to my right.  For the next few hours before the sun came up, it showed off magnificently as it crept up from the eastern horizon. I enjoyed all of it! 
 
Many marathon swimmers have a shared mentality of “Just keeping swimming and you will get there.” To approach a swim with this mindset and then execute it in real time allowed me to keep going and going and going. Several of my gal friends were involved in similar long swims on different parts of the globe at exactly the same time as I was in Tahoe: Chloe in the EC, Nora in Catalina, Pat soon to be in Lake Ontario. In my mind, they were right there next to me, and I mentally traveled to England, Catalina, and Canada several times during this night.  
 
I have come to realize that no amount of bravado, trash talk, machismo, and the like will allow one to “power through” these types of swims.  It takes a continual inner calmness to get even close to the starting line a long swim.  This seems to apply to life as well. I leave the drama, negative talk, and negative energy elsewhere because attending to any member of this deadly trifecta takes the type of energy I won’t give while I’m swimming. As Richard reminded me, “You don’t get to your destination by throwing rocks at every dog that barks at you along the way.” Carefully allotting one’s emotional energy allows one to stay focused on the most important thing.
 
The first 8 hours of this swim went off fairly uneventfully for me, that is, after my initial 100 strokes. I just kept going.  My turnover was steady, in the range of 60-62 for most of the swim, and I sustained a bilateral breathing pattern of either 3-3-3, or 3-2-2, or some variation on that theme. 
 
In the 8thhour, 2 significant things happened. 
1. Chris retired from the swim due to every muscle in his body cramping and not knowing how much longer this swim was going to go on. He had also been extremelyfrustrated with his boat pilot and kayaker from the start. Compounded with his physical state, he had had enough. Had he given me some indication of his intention to stop, we could have problem solved a bit but this Monday morning Quarterbacking approach is far too logical to what the situation was there and then in the middle of this vast, dark, deep lake.  Chris will have his day in Tahoe another day to complete what he had trained so hard to achieve because he is completely able to make it.  When I saw him touch the boat, indicting his official end of this swim, I knew he was done, and I’d find out details later. Without any comment, I swam on into the darkness alone, towards the glowing lights emanating from Reno.  I was on my own now and I knew it. 
 
I am so glad to have Chris as a training partner and have no issue with his decision here. We are already planning The Next One, because there will always be The Next One.
 
2. At 8 hours, 20 minutes, my kayaker pulled up alongside of my escort boat and told them, “I’m done.” Tom asked him, “Did you tell Marcia?” to which he replied, “No.” This didn’t come as a total surprise because during the 7 ½ hour feed, at 4:30am, he told me, “I’m going to try to make it to sunrise. My shoulder is really killing me and it hurts so much.” Had his second sentence been merely something along the lines of, “then I’ll take a break,” I would not have been quite so shocked.  As with most things in life, semantics matter. Words need to be chosen carefully.  When I heard of his plight, it was apparent that I would need to distance myself mentally from this situation because my #1 Goal was to finish this swim. Thinking about a hurting shoulder – anyone’s – was a deterrent. When he got out, I simply swam on again towards the lights of Reno. 
 
Tom had a hard time with these 8thhour incidents and there was sudden chaos on his boat, Ghost Rider, with the unexpected need to load the kayak astern while a lone swimmer –me– swam on ahead in a very dark lake. The situation would have been easily diffused and much less dramatic had Tom asked for help to manage the boat from Gill and/or Robin, both of whom were extremely willing, able, and competent, instead of taking this burden completely upon himself.  Delegating and trusting your support team is a key part of marathon swimming. I certainly trusted that Gill and Robin had my back.
 
There were a lot of distractions and putting any energy into getting upset about things that were of no concern to me during this swim would detract from my final goal. I have a t-shirt that says, The Most Important Thing Is To Keep The Most Important Thing The Most Important Thing. This applied to me during this 8thhour. 
 
Dave observed the scene on Ghost Rider from the other boat.  He remarked to me later that the word “composure” came to mind in accordance to how I conducted myself during this situation. I appreciate such a nice remark, especially coming from the very experienced Dave Van M.  He sensed it took an amazing amount of grit to keep going under these circumstances. At the time, I was only thinking of completing this swim. I had a BIG GOAL to which I had made a BIG COMMITMENT. Last fall, my son, Sam, made the two of us t-shirts with this slogan, the words formed in the shape of a smiley face. No heroics, no drama, no negative energy or thoughts.  Just keep moving towards the goal. 
 
Before my English Channel Swim in 1994, Marcy told me, “Every stroke is taking you one stroke closer to France.”  To this, in the same year, Nora added, “Cada Brazada” and “Vale La Pena.” All of these applied both in 1994 and now, especially during this Hour of Chaos, when I made the simple decision to continue to do my job: Swim. 
 
Around Hour 9, at 6am, the sky began to lighten just a bit. Within 30 minutes, the new day started to peek through and it was light. Because of a slight cloud cover, when I breathed to the right, I could see Chris’s boat above the water line but within an hour, these clouds dissipated and the boat was only visible to me underwater. At one early point in the day light, sun beams “V’ed” up between the clouds and the mountain peaks, as if Mother Nature was holding her arms aloft in a “Victory” sign. The reassuring beauty was a good sign but I’m not fooled into believing this would be a slam dunk. Only when I had my feet on dry sand would the swim be over. 
 
In this emerging light, the cliffs along the northeastern shores of the lake cast exquisite shadows along their rock faces below. I later learned this area is between Secret Harbor and Sand Harbor. I enjoyed this view for a long, beautiful time.  
 
At the feeding about an hour before we finished, I asked Chris to consider swimming into the beach with me. I had thought about this for a long time before saying anything. Although I knew this swim hadn’t turned out like we had hoped for both of us, for the amount of time we trained getting here, I wanted us to finish it together. Within 5 minutes Chris had his cap and goggles on; I knew he still very much was game! He was also making goofy faces at me, cracking me up, as we continued on and on. 
 
The finish beach was ahead of me, in the northeast corner of the lake but I couldn’t see it until about the final ½ mile.  This summer, I have made a concerted effort NOT to look up often for the finish because I’ll get there when I get there.  Looking forward strains my neck and waste time.  To get to Hyatt Beach in Incline Village, we had to weave through a flotilla of moored sailboats. I hoped Tom knew where he was going because all I could do was swim next to the boat through this zigzagging maze. The few times I sighted ahead, I could just spy glimpses of the sandy beach, and finally, the bottom! The end was near! Once we were out of the boat maze, there was only about 100 yards to go. Suddenly, Chris appeared next to me and we left the boats behind and swam in together to the beach. https://www.facebook.com/marydallascole/videos/10210531916323058/
 
To get there fastest, I counted 100 strokes then sighted again ahead to gauge how much further – about 50 more strokes. At stroke #42 of this count, my hand hit the sandy bottom. YEA! I took another 2 strokes then stood up, raised my arms in victory and walked out of the water, as the Channel Rules stipulate, to where there was no water in front of me.  Another swim completed!
 
This swim, along with the SAS, confirmed to me “Yes You Can.” The day after this swim, I was tired and my right shoulder was a bit achy but all in all, I felt fine. The fact that Gill and I had just gotten massages helped this case somewhat. However, I do find that swims like this make me tired at the cellular level and I give myself a day per mile to recover.  Two days after my swim, Gill and I drove around the lake. We stopped at many of the towns and viewing spots along the way. There is something for everyone at Lake Tahoe; there certainly was for me. Onwards!

Swim Across the Long Island Sound                                                   
Saturday August 5, 2017
Marcia Cleveland  9 hours, 25 minutes; 1st solo finisher
Crew: My husband, Mark Green; Richard Clifford and Morris Finkelstein, both have been involved with my swimming for over 2 decades.
Boat & Crew: Sassy, Captain Ewan Mirylees (wife Mary),
​1st Mate Charlie Watson (wife Masha)
Race Director: Liz Fry
 
I did it because I thought I could. 
At the end of last summer, as my daughter, Julia, was getting ready to start college, I realized I would have time to work on some long-term goals. The Swim Across the Sound event was top of mind. It benefits the St. Vincent’s Medical Center Foundation, which is an organization that assists individuals with their specific needs as they battle cancer, and provides services such as cancer education, no-cost screening and prevention programs. To learn more about St. Vincent’s, visit https://give.stvincents.org/swimacrossthesound. I put together a training plan that would hopefully allow me to swim the 25 kilometers across the Long Island Sound from Port Jefferson, New York, to Bridgeport, Connecticut. I had 10 months to think/dwell/contemplate what touching that ladder would feel like and made every stroke along the way count.
 
As is my custom, I posted an aerial picture of the Sound on the bulletin board above my desk at home so I would see it on a regular basis, a reminder of why I was training at a high level again. That space had been empty for several years, while Julia was in High School. All my energies had been directed towards helping her to navigate passage through those tumultuous years, and being in Julia’s support boat as the high seas of a startling abusive high school community continually challenged her.  This swim testified that we have moved forward because this is what we need to do.
 
The short story is I finished, in 9 hours, 25 minutes, as the first of eight solo swimmers; only 3 soloists would complete the full distance of this race due to the tough conditions. The full results can be viewed at https://give.stvincents.org/file/documents---swim-marathon/2017-SWIM-Across-the-Sound-Results.pdf  
This link to St. Vincent’s Facebook page shows my finish if you scroll to August 5, 2017 at 5:29pm. https://www.facebook.com/St.VincentsSWIMAcrossTheSound/
 
Even better, Julia’s 6-person relay team, “Waves of Support,” in the Never Alone category, finished in 8:59; she had a ball. You can view a short video of her relay team here, posted on August 11, 2017 at 4:06am. https://www.facebook.com/marcy.macdonald/posts/10214663236003070
 
If the long version of the story is of interest to you, please read on. Otherwise, you can be done!
 
On the Monday before the race, my two children, Julia (19) & Sam (16) & I drove from Illinois to Connecticut. The car was packed with lots of race gear, most importantly, my suit, cap, and goggles. On Wednesday, I started putting everything together and my race bags were ready to go on Friday morning. We stayed with my mom, Carolyn, in Connecticut, and she saw how much the devil is in the details of preparation.
 
On Thursday night, we attended the swimmers meeting and dinner at the race headquarters. I saw several Connecticut Age Group Swimmers from the 1970s/80s over the weekend: Denise Callahan, Greg Sargent, Andy Davis, Marcy MacDonald, Beth MacDonald Collins, Liz Fry, Jim Bayles, and others; it is quite encouraging that several of us “oldsters” are still suiting up. 
 
On Friday, Mark, Julia, Richard, and I stayed at the Holiday Inn, a five-minute walk from the ferry terminal. Saturday began early, because the ferry from Bridgeport, Connecticut to Port Jefferson, Long Island, New York would cast off precisely at 6am with all the race participants, their crews, the event staff, and a few NARPs. 
 
The weather forecast on Saturday called for storms until about 10am then ok weather thereafter.  The storm which followed us across the Sound looked as if it would deliver the apocalypse at any moment but everyone was like, “Yeah, let’s get it out of the way. Then we’ll have a clear day.” During this ferry passage, Julia told Mark, “I just saw lightning.” He replied, “Look the other way.”
 
Our rain-soaked arrival in Port Jefferson was greeted by live, energizing bagpipe music while we disembarked the ferry, then proceeded in an ant-like procession to Dansford Marina. We found our boat’s first mate, Charlie Watson holding our #3 banner, and we left much of the gear with him outside before going into the main ballroom at the Marina to wait out the weather. An hour or so later, the announcement came for the solos to start boarding their boats. A big difference here was the I didn’t immediately feel the bottom of my stomach drop out.  I was ready for this and I wanted it. 
 
Charlie led us to Sassy, and Captain Ewan Mirylees. This 20-foot sailboat somehow absorbed these two excellent seamen, my three crew, both Ewan’s and  Charlie’s wives, all our race gear,  and me.  There wasn’t much room to move around but it worked. Soon we cast off towards the start, a short jaunt out of the harbor and around the corner to the beach. During this trip, the group effort to cover me with sunscreen, and perform all my other pre-race necessities (Vaseline on chafe points, hair pinned/tailed/&netted, ingest 1 Aleve & 1 gel) made the time fly by.  Ewan maneuvered the boat about 20 yards from the shore, gave me the word to jump, and I was off the boat and swam towards the beach. Nora Toledano’s friend, Mariel Hawley, greeted me warmly on the beach as everyone wished one another a good swim. The countdown swiftly arrived and we eight solo swimmers were off. 
 
I swam strongly from stroke number one. I felt great and knew how well-prepared I was for this swim. Over the past 10 months, I had retrained myself to swim for hours on end, one stroke at a time. I do not consider myself a “beast,” nor was I “crushing, killing, squeezing, pounding, or mashing it.” My goal was direct and simple: I was focused and motivated, executing the plan I set in motion months ago. This was my day to make the most of, if I chose to do so. 
 
I was confident Sassywould find me as the pack headed out into the large flotilla waiting under very cloudy skies. Very soon, we were matched up and headed towards Connecticut. I had joked with one of the staff on the ferry on the way over that since I didn’t have the return fare, I’d be swimming back. Happens.
 
My first feeding was coming in an hour so the idea was for me as much distance covered in before the chow line started. I churned my arms at a pace I knew I could hold all day, 62 to 64 strokes a minute. Because there were several boats around, I didn’t know what position I was in, nor was I concerned because my primary goal was to finish. Everyone had a role on our team and mine was to swim alongside the boat. (This is Rule #1.) It was going to take as long as it was going to take. From the way I had been training and looking at the race results from previous years, I figured we would finish in the 8 to 8 ½ hour range. From the start, I wanted to get to cruising altitude quickly so I could get up and move about the cabin for the duration of the flight. This plan came off well. 
 
Early on, I saw the lead boat with the flashing lights even with us; that’s always a good thing. I just kept powering through the water. The water was a bit choppy but Rule #1 applies. For having never swum alongside Sassybefore, we were an instant pair.  Captain Ewan kept us together brilliantly all day, mostly positioning me between mid-boat and stern, like we discussed in the harbor before I jumped overboard. I never had to crane my neck up to see the boat.  For this I am grateful. 
 
The first hour seemed to take a long time.  I told Mark and Morris that if I was ok, they could push the feedings longer, i.e. increase the span between feeds, and I figured they were doing that. I would only find out later that I was swimming against the current for nearly the entire race. Mother Nature has an unusual sense of humor and it is entirely up to her every single time.  This past year, I have trained myself to under-predict the time, such as “It must have been only about 20 minutes,” when in fact it is probably longer than that. This has helped my ability to concentrate and delay gratification. Finally, I get the “2” sign from Mark indicating that I’ll get fed in 2 minutes. I increase my stroke rate a little before having my feed delivered via a well-thrown line containing a gel fastened to a stationery clip, a water bottle with 12 ounces of Endurox, and a water bottle with mint mouthwash which swishes away the salt water from my mouth at the conclusion of this banquet.
 
And so we continue like that for the next 8 hours: I swim, they throw the feed line down every 30 minutes, I take about a minute to eat, then we do it over again. Are you thinking, “Oh my God, I would be out of my mind with boredom!”? I never once was. My crew wrote the names of those who were interested in this swim, in BIG BOLD LETTERS on a white board, three names at a time, for me to read. Because I generally breathe every 3 strokes, I would chant these names, one for every arm stroke, over and over until the next three names came up. Since there were hundreds of names on this list, I had a steady stream all day. 
 
Like a hawk, I watched everything happening on the boat, mainly Mark and Richard sitting on the deck at mid-boat and Captain Ewan steering. I could also see the brim of Morris’s hat the entire time since he was sitting astern so I knew I was being carefully watched and cared for, again, something for which I am grateful. This is so important to a swimmer in this situation. 
 
The three-foot, choppy seas were rough but how rough, I would only know afterwards. Rule #1 applied at all times. I trusted my crew and boat captain to make decisions that would help me finish this swim and sometimes these decisions weren’t obvious at the time. Did I think I should be swimming in the lea of the boat, out of the wind so I would have slight shelter from the relentlessly rogue wave action? Not my decision. I reasoned there must have been a purpose that the captain positioned the boat this way so I saw this as an opportunity to swim in challenging waves. The less I stopped and chattered away, the faster we would get to the finish. I had to channel my inner Veruca Salt and swim. http://roalddahl.wikia.com/wiki/Veruca_Salt
For all I know, we could have been making a wide turn to head back to Long Island and I would have been none the wiser. 
 
With these types of swims, unless I supplied my own boat pilot and boat, of which I possess neither, I don’t know the skill at which the former handles the latter on race day. I hope for the best and do all I can to communicate my wants and needs.  It helps that my crew also knows what these wants and needs are, thus can advocate for me while I am otherwise occupied. This event, Swim Across the Sound, is extraordinary in its organization and competence, stemming from such a talented team, with each boat captain generously donating his/her services for the day to the event. They are all top-notch and participating for the right reason – to help each participant achieve their goal. Captain Ewan was a-m-a-z-i-n-g in his ability to read the tides, judge the conditions presented and make course adjustments during every single moment of the swim, properly position the boat, and discount what other boat pilots were recommending.  Eventually, the Race Committee boat suggested they tie the race balloon to our boat because we were the boat the rest of the field was following. This course was not a straight line on Saturday August 5th2017, it arched to the west with the low tide then back again to the east when the high tide made a brief appearance towards the end of the swim. 
 
In order to keep my mind on the task at hand, I went 3 feedings in a row without looking up at the land in front of us.  This took a lot of discipline but then when I finally did look, I had gotten a little closer. I realized the current against me was strong when the white board sign said, “< 1 mile to the harbor” and it took nearly 45 minutes (or more!) to swim this “< 1 mile.” When we finally did get into the harbor and I was no longer battling a current, my stroke rate picked up and I felt strong, making me thankful that I had prepared as much as I did for this event.
 
What did I see in the water? In the beginning, the overcast skies cast the water in a dark, mossy green-colored hue. Later in the day, when I sun came out, the water was lighter. All day it was like looking into a serene forest, with various shades of the same trees. I saw a few clumps of seaweed and 2 small buoy markers. I’m not trying to disappoint you, but I wasn’t in a well-stocked aquarium at feeding time.  Most swims are like this and not particularly dramatic from a visual perspective.
 
There was no marine life to see.  In the first hour or two, a big, and probably lost, fish ran into me and bounced off fast. Fish and other creatures that live in the ocean are as interested in coming to the surface as we humans are walking along the sea bottom. There were clear, squishy baby jellyfish present just below the surface towards the last 1/3 of the swim These babies will turn into big stinging jellyfish in a few weeks.  Nicely dodged a bullet on this one. I did feel lots of tiny little “prickly” things which I figured were pre-stinging jellies. I got a few stray tentacles down my suit which I washed out of my suit at the next feeding, but not after these squatters held their own dance party on my chest and stung me a bit. Happens.  
 
The second half of the swim, when I was seemingly getting no closer to the land, I thought a lot about the beneficiary of this swim, St. Vincent’s Medical Center Foundation. Sure, I had a long swim, a little over 1/3 of a day, but I reminded myself that for the people who benefit from the care and support of St. Vincent’s, they were experiencing what I was going through about 3 times a day. And then they wake up tomorrow and do it all over again, and the next day, and on and on until they hopefully recover from their cancer. I never contemplated stopping once, telling myself, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming. You’ll get there eventually.” I had a lot to be grateful for and nothing to complain about. “Yes, you can. Dig down deep. Just keep swimming…”
 
As the final stretch to the finish line approached, I savored the feeling of this accomplishment, and especially cherished touching the finish ladder. However, what was more important was helping to make a difference in the lives of many people afflicted with cancer.  Thank you to all who have supported my swim. 
 
Good luck to all future participants in this event!  Please support the St. Vincent’s Medical Center Foundation!
 
Marcia Cleveland, August 13, 2017
 
GPS readings (Distance to Buoy 2A) at various times:
11:13 AM    7.60 miles
11:38 AM    6.94
1:55 PM      4.10
2:53 PM      3.13
3:28 PM      2.58
3:54 PM      2.10
4:52 PM      1.00
5:07 PM       0.70
5:16 PM       0.50
 
 
 

Santa Barbara Swim                                                         
Anacapa Island to Silver Strand Beach, Oxnard, CA:  12 miles
Saturday July 23, 2011                                                  
Start:    6:11 a.m. at Anacapa Island               
Finish: 12:11 p.m. at Silver Strand, CA
Marcia Cleveland, F47, Winnetka, IL    
Chris Layton, M52, Chicago, IL                                 
Final Time:   6:00:08
Temps: Water: 60 to 62°F                                           
Air: 65° F (start), 61° F (mid) 67° F (end)
Boat:     Tuna Thumper                                                     
Bob Andriex, Captain; Mike, First Mate
Kayaker: Richard Clifford                                            
​Crew:  Joe Gray     Observers: Dave Van Mouwerik, Carol Sing 
Hosts:   Jim & Michelle McConica
The short summary:  Chris Layton and Marcia Cleveland successfully swam the Anacapa Channel portion of the Santa Barbara Channel on Saturday July 23, 2011 in 6 hours and 8 seconds.  The swim was straightforward and both athletes were well-prepared for the crossing. They encountered jellyfish for the first half of the crossing and were repeated stung.  Neither athlete suffered any consequences of these stings aside from discomfort.  Feedings were done every 30 minutes.  The entire support team participated in the success of this journey.  For more in-depth details, please read the following notes written by Marcia. 


Chris and I had been thinking about doing this swim since our Chicago Skyline Swim three years ago.  We trained diligently for several months, ranging   between 28 and 32,000- yards a week.  In May, we began open water swims in Lake Michigan when the water temperature was 50°F.  As a result of this acclimation and high yardage, the Anacapa Channel was a good swim for both of us.                 
For me to put one of these swims together takes a Herculean effort. Arranging my family life, work, and everything else gets complicated so am always motivated to prepare to be successful. Most importantly, I prepare to be safe. 
Santa Barbara swims are usually swum on the date they are scheduled for, plus or minus a day.  We were scheduled for July 23rdand fortunately, all went according to plan.
Richard, Chris, Joe, & I all arrived in Santa Barbara on Thursday.  Carol and David came Friday.   (Note to self:  Fly into LAX and drive north.  No need to fly from LAX to SBA.)  I had sent a supply box ahead so we didn’t have to carry all the feeding equipment, etc., and that was very helpful.  Friday morning we met up with Captain Bob.  Since none of us were familiar with the marina, finding the boat was a challenge.  However, getting lost at 10 a.m. the day before was a lot easier on the nerves than at 4 a.m. on swim day.  I reserved the Tuna Thumperin April but didn’t realize there was an MVL (Maximum Vessel Load).  Captain Bob could only take six of us, including the swimmers kayaker, crew, and observers.  As a result, we had a crew member who had to stay back. The boat was comfortable, clean and had a full kitchen - so preparing warm feeds for us would not be any problem.  After our boat excursion, we drove south on the Pacific Coast Highway to Zuma Beach where Jim McConica was working and we swam at this beautiful spot.  Water temperature was 65°, no problemo.  We lunched at a great seaside seafood spot then it was back to Jim and Michelle’s for a nap before dinner.  
I checked my gear and organized my morning supplies, applied sunscreen all over my body, and went to bed around 7:30 p.m. for the 3AM wake up.  When Jim rattled everyone awake at the precise moment, he was probably the MOSTexcited of all of us.  I wasn’t nervous since I had done these types of swims before and knew what to expect.  Chris was pretty nervous so the best thing for his nerves would be to get going.
Once we got to the boat, the engines came alive and we motored out of the harbor.  Dave van Mouwerik, one of our two observers, gave us a final briefing for our tandem swim.  Chris and I had practiced for years to swim together.  A tandem swim means swimming next to one another stroke for stroke for the entire duration of a swim.  The slowest person sets the pace and this person may change during the swim.  Richard lines his hips up with ours so you could draw a straight line across the swimmers and him.  Any deviation from this plan is unacceptable so it takes a lot of prep work to have a successful tandem swim, especially for the boat captain whose primary concern is the safety of the swimmers.  We (Chris and I) stayed together, everyone stayed safe.  It worked. 
Chris expressed his goal for this swim as “to be able to drive away from the marina in my car when the swim was over, however it ends.”  I thought that was a truthful, reasonable goal.  I wanted us all to finish safely.
The boat trip to Anacapa took longer than I expected it would - about 1 hour and 45minutes but by arriving around 6 a.m., the skies had lightened considerably so light sticks weren’t necessary. 
En route to the island, I got myself all ready to swim:  cap, suit, and goggles. We still weren’t there, so I lay down in a bunk for a little while.  I kept waiting for the boat’s engines to cut, a sensation that always gives me a sickening feeling because I know “It’s show time” when they finally cut out.  I emerged from below and WOW!  What a sight!  Anacapa is a small volcanic rock sticking up out of the Pacific west of Santa Barbara.  Seen at 6 a.m. in gray light, it was beautiful.  “The Arch” part of the island looks surreal.  We had left the dock in darkness without an inkling of land “out there” and now we were viewing these beautiful rock formations right in front of us in near daylight.  Seals were playing all around and these types of sea creatures always make me happy.
Dave told me then that the water temp was 63°F.  Without doubting him, I thought, “That’s colder than I expected but I’ll deal.”  It was actually 61°F but I didn’t find this out until afterwards.  Didn’t matter, my internal dials were set and on ‘Go’ mode.   Chris and I stripped down to our suits, applied grease (Body Glide) to our chafe points, and stood ready on the stern.  Chris was hoping I’d linger a bit.  HA!  I lingered not a bit.  Joe took video footage of our start and there I am, jumping off the stern of Tuna Thumperwithout as much as pausing to put a toe in first (Dave had saidit was 63°, right?  So let’s go.). Chris is seen on tape sitting down on the stern, dangling his feet, thinking a few unprintable words, then followed suit.
I didn’t have much of a clue to what I was doing but I knew I had to keep moving and this notion started from when I put my suit on. Although I didn’t feel nervous atall, unlike the start of some previous swims when I shook visibly, I decided to seize the bull by the horns and figure it out as I went.  In my most recent open water swims, I am very confident of a successful outcome but I know Mother Nature has the final say.  Taking it one stroke at a time is the only way.  The immediate matter at hand was the start:  How is this going to happen?  Until you see it, you don’t believe it.  The island juts directly up out of the ocean.  There is no “clear the water” factor as in other channel swims because there is nowhere to stand.  I guess if we brought hiking boats, repelling lines and other assorted rock climbing equipment, we could rig something together but for this start, the rule is to prove you are touching the island.  Two sets of hands above water level marks the start and must be seen by the observers on the boat.  We found our spot, planted our hands on Anacapa, and BOOM - we’re off.  I knew right then and there we were going to make it if Mother Nature obliged. The water is a beautiful dark aqua marine color and would remain so until a mile or two off the coast.  That translates into deep water with great visibility.  With such great clarity, within a minute of the start, we were able to spot jellyfish and salp everywhereand started to get stung.  My only comment to Richard was "Ouch.”  He was on the port (left) side and had an accurate view of the endless shoal (that’s what a group of jellyfish is called); in a way those on the boat did not.  Only afterwards did they find out the extent of the shoal.  Five minutes into the swim, I was stung across the face for the first of many times.  This was insulting and uncomfortable but did not get in the way of our goal:  to finish.  Since neither Chris nor I are allergic to bee stings we were merely in a state of discomfort, not in any seriousmedical pain.  At the first feeding, I asked Chris if he was getting stung; he said yes, and that was the end of the jelly discussion for the entire swim.  Lots of people asked me later about these blobby creatures who spend their lives floating in currents.  The inquiries usually start with frightened exclamations and always include “Why didn’t you stoooooop?”  I calmly remark, “We had a goal and we weren’t in any serious pain.”  It was merely uncomfortable.  There is a big difference between the two, especially in terms of attitude.
I saw these jellies as our fans, cheering us on.  The free-floating tentacles, similar to loose strands of hair, waving at me non-stop were loud cheers from the crowd.  Chris came up with his own coping mechanism: Every time he was stung, the sting helped generate heat!  Brilliant!
These jellies weren’t going to deter us from our goal.  A long time ago I realized I was not in charge. A higher omnipotent power has this job and the current plan required us to get out of our comfort zone. When people hear about what happened with the jellies, it’s an opportunity to think about when and why a person backs off from a similar situation.  Serious medical pain is a valid reason; mere discomfort may not be but the line distinguishing the two is very gray and can only be determined by the individuals involved at the particular instance with the current set of circumstances.  This model will never be the same twice.
One of the things Chris and I did to prepare for this swim was swim intothe waves. Two weeks before our actual swim, we went to the beach around 4 p.m. on a beautiful, hot day - lots of boats and jet skies combined for lots of waves.  For an hour, we swam in “The Box”, the guarded area which measured about 75 yards wide and 25 yards long.  We had one easy 75-yard leg then 3 hard legs of head-on chop and waves. By the end of this, I was nearly sick.  When I spoke with Chris later that night, remarking on how wiped out I was, he said he was beat too.  This was hard - we eventually didn’t have such smack-in-the-face conditions in Santa Barbara but we were ready either way.
 
Chris and I swam on and on, from feed to feed.   There is a humongous oil rig named Gina in the Channel.  By the time we got to “Gina”, I thought we had been in for at least 5 hours but in fact, we reached her in 4 hours.  I also thought Gina was 4 miles off Anacapa but she is actually 4 miles from the coast.  We came up on her fast so we could see how big and rusty she is, making me glad we didn’t get too close.  Chris has a sister named Gina and she is much more attractive than this Gina.  The rig came into view around the time I started playing a game I’ll call “Count the number of strokes you take until you see another jellyfish”.  For at least one entire feeding span of 30 minutes I only got to 6, then 8, then 3, etc., so we were still in the thick of it.  So while Chris was generating his own sting-induced heat while I was playing this game.  Just before the feeding at 3 1/2 hours, I took 87 strokes without seeing a jellyfish and was able to report this amazing fact to Ricardo.  It’s a blur as to when it was finally over, but the sting marks that emerged after the swim all over my arms, legs, torso and face faded from looking like angry chickenpox to skin-colored bumps in about 3 weeks.  The two jellies that went down my suit during the swim became the gifts that keep giving and were merely annoying.  Is there any doubt that I skip the jellyfish rooms at Aquariums?  Been there, done that, all without the glass.
Another bonus dealing with all these jellies is that it took our minds off looking for sharks. Richard hung a shark shield off his kayak as a preventative but my perspective is sharks don’t come looking for humans.  On the intelligence scale of living creatures, sharks rate slightly higher than jellyfish but neither species is in danger of taking over the world anytime soon. Sharks are predators, always looking for food.  It has been my experience that sharks steer clear of big noisy boats up on the surface of the water.  Even if they could see us, we weren’t dressed like seals or other candy-flavored shark delectables.  Chris was wearing a red suit and I had on a purple one; we intentionally avoided black and dark blue.
At some point, Chris told me he was really bored.  Instead of snapping at him something like “why don’t you enjoy the beautiful ocean all around you?”  I knew how he felt:  it’s stroke after stroke, the downward view isn’t changing, shore isn’t getting any closer, and why the heck am I doing this anyway???  During our last swim in Chicago before leaving for Santa Barbara, we found an old anchor on the bottom of the lake and marked the coordinates so we could retrieve it later.  When Chris told me of his boredom, I asked him to come up with a plan to bring the anchor up thus keeping his engineering mind busy for quite a while.
Some people get bored when doing these types of swims.  I do at times, with experience comes the knowledge that you have to get through this mundanely laborious on-and-on part in order to feel the land under your feet. During the first two-plus hours, after I came to terms with the fact that the jellies were everywhere and they weren’t going away, I thought about all the things I was going to be doing when 17 miles of swim training was beckoning every week.  Talking to a jellyfish expert came to mind!  On several occasions, I smiled a lot at the boat and they smiled back.  I always want to let the observers and crew know that my mental state is ok, if it actually is.  Since Richard was feeding us from the kayak, Carol, Dave and Joe cheered us on from the big boat during every feeding, and we really appreciated this. At one point, I looked over at Chris stroking strongly, not complaining, getting the job done, and thought, “He’s become a real pro.” (It’s a pleasure to swim with you, Chris!)  In any activity in which experience can be a major divider between success and failure, it is up to those with more experience to mentor into the community those trying to gain it.  This self-dictated and self-monitored edict seems to thrive in open water swimming community.  
Our feedings were every 30 minutes, with the first coming at 1 hour.  Richard gave us 2 fingers at 28 minutes so we would sprint until we stopped.  He handed us our liquids (carbs & protein drinks) in water bottles, then handed me a gel (none for Chris), and then mouthwash which helps clear the salt from your mouth and keep the swelling down.  We each took one final swig from our liquids bottles and then we were off again. Elapsed time 30 seconds to one minute. I had told Chris ahead of time how important fast feedings were to our overall success and he definitely got it.  When Chris and I started swimming, Richard would then paddle over to the boat and hand the feed bottles to Joe for refills then we’d do it all over again in another 30 minutes.  Smartly, he didn’t “dump” any liquids into the ocean after we drank, allowing Joe to assess how much we were taking in at each feed.  I drank about 8 ounces and Chris drank about 5 ounces.  Joe did a magnificent job making sure we got the necessary nutrition to get us across in precisely the correct amount.
I had taken an Aleve before we started and received another at 4 hours, making this the full extent of the meds either of us took in conjunction with the swim. When I am getting sick of my feeds I know we are getting close to the end.    Surprisingly, nothing really hurt during this swim.  My hips were fine and my left shoulder became a little cranky late into the game but all in all, my 47-year-old bod held up.  Jellyfish venom may act as maybe a pain reducer but further research is needed.  HAHA!
Shortly after passing Gina, the coast came into clear view.  Wow!  Almost there! Dave told me he saw me doing some prairie dog sighting over the chop.  I wanted to know how much further and got yelled at for wasting time to look around. The water color was shifting from that beautiful deep blue aquamarine to a mossier green and eventually a shady, murky green.  The bottom was coming up and it wouldn’t be long now.  Even though we didn’t have the lovely blue color to gaze at, we also lost the jellies.  It’s all about what you have at the moment. 
There was some inshore current push, but our motivation to get there was a major factor in our closing speed; we covered the last four miles in 90 minutes.  I was in my element and lovin’ every minute of this. Several feeding s back I told Chris he never had to do this again and he didn’t dispute me.  We were going to finish on Silver Strand Beach in Oxnard, the shortest swim course.  I was AMAZED when the boat told us we’d been in the water 4.5, then 5 hours because it felt more like 6 or 7.  Once again, in my weird way, I was sad we couldn’t swim for longer.
Jim and Michelle called the boat around 5 hours then realized we would be done within the hour so scrambled to make it to Silver Strand in time.  They took several great pictures of us emerging from the ocean. I knew they were on the beach because I could see their blue t-shirts, emblazoned with “Real Swimmers Swim Naked.” Their support throughout this entire swim has been awesome and we greatly appreciate all they did.
Chris and I rode the waves in, joining up with the surfers, then the bathers, and finally the castle builders.  Feeling the sand underneath my feet always awards a great sense of triumph.  We had set a goal, trained for it, and succeeded. Despite the discomfort both during the swim and more so, plenty of times during training, we persevered and made it. It’s pretty straightforward but the barbs thrown up all along the way give aspirant all the reasons in the world to quit
We sat on the beach for a few minutes, answering questions from many interested by-standers. The best one was “What are you training for?”  which I answered with a laugh.  When we landed, the water temperature was 60°F.  Chris had been cold for the last portion of the swim, and sensed the drop; I was happily oblivious.  The fact that we had to swim back to the boat nearly 100 yards off shore wasn’t making him happy.  We rendezvoused with Richard past the breakers and Chris got a kayak tow. Richard told me, “You’re fine.  You get to swim.”
Back on the boat, Joe bundled up Chris quickly in a sweatshirt, towels and hat. Chris had some minor shivering but within an hour, he was fine.  I wrapped a towel around me, sat in the sun on the back deck with everyone else, completely all right with the world.  Pictures show some facial puffiness for both of us but the smiles convey so much more.
Motoring back to Ventura Harbor was quick.  We unloaded and sat down to lunch in less than an hour of finishing.  Having everyone together at a meal afterwards gives a sense of unity and closure as we regale the swim.  The bellies of my forearms started to itch, a reaction to the jelly stings, so I rubbed them with ice to cool them down.  Chris felt it too.  Sadly, I did not take the advice I gave to Chris at lunch.  I told him to power-wash himself in the shower and rub-rub-rub those tentacles off.  His spots took a week to emerge and lasted a few days while mine started coming out as I say on the plane home and lasted 3 weeks.  
We got back to Jim and Michelle’s house around 4PM tired but satisfied.  I packed my gear to take home, joined in with everyone for the non-stop swim debriefing, and ate two bowls of ice cream (!!) for dinner. Life is good.
Sunday morning I left at 4AM to catch an early flight back to Chicago.  Immediately I was immersed back into family life for which my own needs are often secondary.  But as I reflect back onto our Santa Barbara swim, I have a sense of joy that I was well-prepared, in my element, and doing something I love.
As for the next one?  I’ve always got some ideas in mind…  

​A Swim across the Catalina Channel: A Portrait in Teamwork                              August 2005
By Marcia Cleveland
 
The short story: On Tuesday August 3rd, we swam the Catalina Channel in 8 hours, 56 minutes, 10 seconds. David Blanke, (Austin, TX, age 45), Liz Fry, (Westport, CT, age 46), and Marcia Cleveland (Winnetka, IL, age 41), left the island of Catalina, off the coast of Los Angeles, CA, and swam to Palos Verdes, CA, just south of LA.  We left from the island around 11:30pm on Monday and arrived on the very rough coast around 8:30am.  This is the first time 3 solo swimmers have done this swim together, and thanks to lots of cooperation and patience from the swimmers, we swam almost swam stroke for stroke the whole way.  We were accompanied by our faithful kayaker, Richard Clifford, and an armada of extremely capable supporters, additional kayakers, and boat crew, all committed to being a part of this selfless team. It was the culmination of lots of hard work from several different people and everyone was grateful that the swim worked out so well.
 
Here’s the long story, if you’re interested.  
 
Say, in the dark, Here in the dark? Would you, could you, in the dark? 
I would not, could not, in the dark.
 
Since the last time I did a marathon swim, I have had two children. Julia was born in 1998 and Sam arrived in 2000.  As a result of these joyful arrivals, much has changed in my life since the mid-1990’s when I was able to put so much energy and focus into my swimming.  But I’ve learned a lot, things like the above lyrics from Green Eggs and Hamby Dr. Seuss, which is one of Sam’s favorite books, and they completely applied to my thoughts upon approaching the Catalina Channel Swim. 
 
In 1994, I swam the English Channel in 9 hours, 44 minutes.  In the surrounding years, I had done several other marathon swims, including Manhattan Island.  After the English Channel, I began to wonder: “What next?”  I did Manhattan a few more times, including establishing a women’s American record of 5 hours, 57 minutes in August 1996, and a couple of other long swims. 
 
During my time in England in 1994, I met Nora Toledano from Mexico. We became good friends and I crewed for her when she did a two-way solo English Channel swim the week after my one-way solo (that means to France and back to England without stopping – pretty amazing!)  In 1995, she came to New York and we both did Manhattan that year.  We started talking openly about “What next?” and thought Catalina Channel (from the island of Catalina, California to the Los Angeles coast) would be a good, challenging swim to do together. Since most of this swim is usually done in the dark, any other live bodies in the water were going to be welcomed by me.  
 
We fast-forward to August 2003, somewhere off the southern coast of England, near midnight.  Aegean Blueis gently rocking in the waves after having been afloat for close to 20-hours.  Our six-person relay team doing a two-way English Channel relay (the same thing Nora did by herself) is nearing completion and it is becoming obvious that yours truly is going to have to swim in to shore for the finish.  I was still scared to swim in the dark, even though I’ve done it countless times by now.  The internal conversation I was having went something like, “When you set the record around Manhattan, you voluntarily jumped into the East River at 2:20am.  How many people dothat?” “Yea, but…” “Please shut up and swim…” Ok, without recounting any more internal whining, I did it, I hated it, we got our certificates, and it’s over.  
 
My goal of Catalina still loomed on the future.  What on earth was I going to do?  To optimize conditions in this swim, the start time is typically at midnight because there are usually calmer seas, less boat traffic, and probably less winds. The tide really isn’t a factor, like it is in the English Channel. Some subtle signs that Catalina was becoming part of my life started popping up.  Not one but two of my “mommy suits” (the bathing suits I use when I swim with the kids) were manufactured by a company called “Catalina.”  Next, I ran into Kris Rutford in September 2004 at a race in Chicago. Kris and I have been friends for years and I told him about my dream of doing Catalina next summer.  He told me that David Blanke, another long-time mutual swimmer friend, was thinking about Catalina too so I gave David a call.  David has several major swims to his credit, including a successful crossing of the English Channel. When we spoke, he was totally game for company in this swim and we agreed to swim together.  A few days later, another friend, Liz Fry, wanted in too, agreeing to swim together.  Liz is a remarkable athlete in many different sports, including a recent English Channel swim.  Since David had already reserved the escort boat, he checked to make sure that having three swimmers in the water at the same time would be ok.  The boat captain said yes, and we were set.  
 
To begin turning this dream into a reality, I realized better start to take my own advice, namely in the form ofDover Solo. In 1999,I published this book, describing the preparation and actual swim of my English Channel crossing.  Anyone preparing for a long swim needs to put some serious yardage in the bank and in the Fall of 2004 my current yardage account wasn’t going to get me too far.  
 
A build-up plan was established.  Most swimmers talk about their training in terms of yardage, either weekly or daily, and I am no different.  In the Fall of 2004, I was swimming about 15-20,000 yards a week. (There are 1,760 yards in a mile.) During January and February, I increased this yardage to 20-25,000 yards a week.  In March/April, my weekly yardage total was 25-30,000 yards a week. In the May/June phase, I swam 30-35,000 yards/week, and continued this schedule during the first three weeks of July. During the last week of July, I swam a little less, in order to rest. This stair-step plan made the yardage increases more feasible, both mentally and physically.  I also did stretching and core exercises several times a week, plus a weight lifting program twice a week. 
 
On a weekly basis, from January until school let out in early June, I would make my heavy swim days Monday through Thursday but it depended on our family’s schedule (Mark’s travel for work and the kids’ activities.)  When I could, after dropping Julia and Sam at school, I would swum 6000 to 7000 yards by myself at a health club two to three mornings a week, followed immediately by weight lifting. Then when I needed to, I swam more in the evenings at Northwestern University with our masters’ team, NASA.  
 
When school let out, my time wasn’t my own anymore so much of my swimming was done before the kids woke up, and on the weekend mornings. When Lake Michigan warmed up to over 55žF consistently in early June, I swam 3-4 mornings a week at Tower Beach in Winnetka for about an hour-and-a-half with my training partner, Blair Johnson.  On Saturday mornings, I went to Ohio Street Beach in Chicago for longer, 2+ hour, swims. A few times a week, I swam in the pool with NASA in the evenings.  Throughout this time, there was a garden-variety of lake conditions, ranging from completely flat and still to 5 foot rolling seas. We swam in any and all conditions; all of this was good practice.  When I swam in California just before Catalina and my legs felt buoyed up by the salt water I realized that the recent training I had done in the fresh water of Lake Michigan had been harder than swimming in the salt water of Connecticut that I was used to; our family had moved to Illinois from Connecticut in 2003.
 
I also started to think about the sensory deprivation of swimming in the dark. Over the summer, I became more and more comfortable with the idea and convinced myself to approach the swim calmly, regardless of the available light.   
 
Next, I needed to fix this shoulder and back problem that had been nagging me for a long, long time (I stopped counting in specific numbers once the kiddies arrived.)  In steps Brian Cunningham, a Physical Therapist who is also a fellow swimmer. His custom program began with rehabilitation then graduated up to strength and stamina training, which included a specialized weight training program.  He devised most of the exercises to be done at home and I followed this plan religiously week-in and week-out.  He constantly mixed up the program, to work different muscle groups and alleviate boredom.  My kids loved to roll around on the big exercise ball and to lift the weights lying around, “just like Mommy.”  It also gave me hope in the fact that he was really thinking about HOW I would be swimming and for how long.  At one point, he said, “So if you’re going to be in this horizontal position for at least 10 hours, you really need to make sure your hip flexors are strong.”  It was a good revelation because, yes, his entire statement was correct, and yes, he was thinking about the entire situation, not just how long I was able to hold the Plank position today.  (Note to Brian: Now I only strongly dislike doing dips and chin-ups.)  I consider my shoulder and back problems under control, just as long as I continue to do my exercises. 
 
During all this training, my body and particularly my shoulders felt miraculously feeling fine.  I tried to build in a day every week of no swimming. Was I tired? Yes, all the time, and especially more tired on some days than others, and I had no real time to rest.  This training was a lot different on my 40/41-year old, mother-of-two body than on the 29/30-year old, happy-go-lucky machine that I was 11 years ago. (The latter refers to my English Channel training days when I was swimming 45,000 yards per week for almost a year.) Coupled with all this training was the fact that we did some major renovating on our house this year.  I saw all the furniture lifting and rearranging as supplemental weight training!  
 
I also needed to ask around for advice from the community of marathon swimmers I knew who had previously done Catalina.  Alison Streeter, Karen Burton Reeder, Nick Olmos-Lau, Kathleen Wilson, and Carol all provided full recaps of their stories and I was able to glean tidbits and guidance from each and every one of them.  The general consensus was that this was a lovely swim and the phosphorescence in the water were beautiful at night. However, you absolutely must be in good shape for the distance, the weather and water temperature could change dramatically, and the finish is as rough as you’ll ever see anywhere in the world.  From what I heard, I started to embrace the positives.  When the swim was over and we were safely on the boat heading back to the dock in Long Beach, it was apparent to me that all this counsel proved true. 
 
Nora continued to be game for this swim for several years but then her son, Max Dilan, arrived in 2000, and she became more involved in the organization of marathon swimming in Mexico.  She told me if she could not actually do the swim she would crew for me.  Rearranging the heavens and the moons, Nora kept her word and showed up to crew.  
 
Fast-forward to 5:45am on Wednesday July 27, 2005.  My mother, Carolyn, Julia, Sam, and me all wave good-bye to my husband, Mark Green, and we pull out of our driveway in suburban Chicago, Illinois, headed for California.  He will join us on Friday August 5thafter the swim for a family vacation.  At 10:30pm CST on Friday July 29th, we pulled into Carol Sing’s driveway in San Diego.  Carol is one of the grand dames of open water swimming, having become to oldest women (and sometimes person) to complete many swims, including the both the English and Catalina Channels.  I had known her for several years and it was extremely generous of her to have us stay with her during our time in San Diego. Nora also stayed with Carol, giving all of us time to catch up.  Living in this comfortable, relaxed atmosphere allowed Carol to fill us in on some of the Catalina details that would be helpful for both Nora and me.  Having my mom along was nice because of the time she was able to spend time with all of us, especially her grandchildren, and she understood of the needs of my swimming. 
 
Sunday July 31st, a day-and-and-half before the swim, we headed up to the LA area to stay with David’s family. His aunt and uncle have a home in Huntington Beach and since they were away, they generously allowed us to stay there: David and his wife, Leslie; Liz; our kayaker, Richard Clifford, from Larchmont, NY; David’s sister and her husband, Mary McSweeney and Jon Ketzler, from Madison, Wisconsin; Nora, my mom, my kids, and me. The usual pre-swim planning and strategizing ensued on Sunday evening and Monday.  Nora and I went over where all the various equipment was packed in my bags so she could get to whatever she needed quickly when she was crewing for me. 
 
We went over the feeding plan too.  Sixty minutes into the swim, and every 30 minutes thereafter, at Richard’s prompt, we would all stop, tread water and receive our feeding from the kayakers. My feeds would comprise of a water bottle filled with 8 ounces of water mixed with Maxim, plus one Hammergel.  At the 3rd, 5th, 7th, 9th, etc. hour, I would get the same mixture but with one scoop of protein powder mixed into the Maxim.  Motrin would be given upon my request. Each feeding would end with a quick gargle of mouthwash, giving relief to the effects of the saltwater in the mouth.  Then after this one minute break, we would all resume swimming.  Official Channel swimming rules dictate that you can’t touch the boat, kayak, or another swimmer to gain assistance or an advantage. 
 
For all three of us, Leslie and Nora would mix a few feed bottles at a time, a kayaker would paddle over to the boat to receive them.  After we had used up all the feeds, the kayaker would deliver the bottles back to the boat and the process would be repeated.  Leslie mentioned afterwards that it would have been very helpful if our names had been written on each bottle so when the “load” was delivered, she and Nora could sort it out more easily. 
 
Before we got to California, I had told Liz that I wanted to wear a suit that didn’t make me look like shark bait.  At our meeting on Sunday, she presented David and me with florescent pink custom-made bathing suits and matching swim caps.  Across the front was a line drawing of a shark chasing a swimmer. Across the backside, was written YIKES! She even had a set for Julia! Great stuff!  Heck, with that huge boat, 2 kayaks, and a big guy in a pink bathing suit, all the smart fish stayed out of our way.  What fish in their right mind would want to take a bite out of a big guy in a pink suit?  
 
On Monday, all swimmers and crew seriously rested. One of my major concerns was staying up all night, something I’m not particularly good at.  My mom took Sam and Julia out in the afternoon so the house was fairly quiet.  We left for the boat around 6pm on Monday evening and arrived at the Bottom Scratcher around 7pm.  This fifty-foot boat has 27 berths (bunks) and is outfitted for overnight scuba diving outings. It calls Long Beach Harbor home port. The swimmers and crew quickly moved all the gear onto the boat and then we waited while the captain and boat crew showed up.  
 
Our swim crew was comprised of Leslie Blanke, David’s very-capable wife; Nora Toledano, my very-capable friend; and Tom Stanton, Liz’s friend from LA who proved himself to be incredibly capable even though this was his first swim. A swimmer’s crew is responsible for the swimmer’s equipment and food, preparing feedings for the swimmer in the water, watching the swimmer for any signs of fatigue or change from ‘normal’, and general moral support. It’s similar to taking care of an infant.  Our kayakers/paddlers were Richard Clifford  who remained on the water the entire swim, and Steve Dockstader and Kevin Eslinger, both of San Diego.  The official observers were Carol Sing, David Clark, and Rich Henry, all of San Diego.  The observers make sure that the official rules are adhered to, timing the entire swim, keeping an official log of the swim.  Kevin, David Clark, Steve, and Tom rotated kayaking shifts every in 2 hour.  We had an experienced, excellent crew and everyone proved themselves to be worthy of all-star status. 
 
Also on board were Mary and Jon, David’s sister and brother-in-law. They are physicians and monitored all of us, swimmers and crew alike.  Jon also took some AMAZING photos of the event and gave us a nice slide show the evening after our swim.
 
My mom was going to take Sam back to the house in Huntington for the evening and for the first time ever, Julia would be allowed to be on the boat. During the swim, Nora was going to be Julia’s “mamacita” and Carol would be her surrogate grandma.  Julia was great during the entire trip and won over the hearts of the boat crew. 
 
Captain Greg Elliott is a bagpipe-playing, competent, stern, yet agreeable salty seaman.  During his pre-swim speech, he told us up front that he was very concerned about our trio arrangement. He made it perfectly clear that if we were unable to stay together, he would make no hesitation of hauling one, two, or all three of us out of the water.  The three first mates on board were also just as competent and pleasantly in-control as Greg. I felt like I was in very safe hands. 
 
Everyone around us: crew, boat captain, kayakers, innocent by-standers, etc., were VERY concerned about our ability to swim together, defined as swimming stroke for stroke.  However, from the moment that David, Liz, and I agreed to do this as a group, I never had a doubt that we would stay together.  The right personalities were involved here.  The slowest swimmer would set the pace and this position might vary as the swim progressed.  As it turned out, from nearly the get-go, I was the slowest swimmer by just a little, but David and Liz honored their word.  I was very comfortable swimming with them even though they would probably have gone 10-15 minutes faster without me. 
 
We left the dock in Long Beach around 8:15pm as the sun was setting. (The moon had already set that evening at 6:16pm.) I immediately headed for a bunk in the back of the boat and was quickly followed by David, Liz, and Leslie. These bunks were more out in the air  than the ones up front; I wanted to minimize the potential for seasickness. Although I never actually slept, I rested and just kept thinking about good things.  I was really relaxed and ready to go when the boat arrived at Catalina.   
 
It was dark, really really dark.  The outline of the island was barely visible and there was no moon.  We were in the last phase of the moon ("waning crescent") and cloud cover had moved into the area blocking any starlight.
The kayaks and the boat would have some lights for us to follow, but not enough for us to see much in the water around us.   Usually you can see some sort of lights from the land but right now darkness prevailed. I simply didn’t worry. It was going to be whatever it was going to be.  Nora applied Vaseline to the chafe points along my suit lines and neck, I put on my cap and goggles, wrapped a towel around me, and waited in the 60F cool night air.  Channel rules stipulate that a swimmer may wear a bathing suit, one cap, goggles, and grease.  When it was time to get into the dinghy from the boat, there was no hesitation.  We motored about 200 yards over to the island and jumped into the 68F water.  
 
The start point for Catalina Channel swims is a small beach at Doctor’s Cove on the northeast side of the island. All of us were reaching the island for the first time.  On the cliffs about this beach is a Boy Scout camp. In order to begin any open water swim, you must “clear the water,” that is, get to a starting point where there is no water behind you.  (Subsequently, to finish, you must also “clear the water,” getting to where there is no water in front of you.)  As we left the water and walked up onto the beach, we noticed about seven post-curfew scouts on the cliffs above, watching us swim in.  They ran down to the beach and asked us where we were swimming to; “Long Beach,” I replied.  They were in awe and gave us an enthusiastic send-off.
 
11:36pm Monday August 1, 2005:  David Blanke, Liz Fry, and Marcia Cleveland enter the Catalina Channel and each begin their solo swim crossings. 
 
This swim started out calmly and smoothly. The water (68F) and air (low 60sF) temperatures felt fine and the wind was blowing from the west at 10 knots.    As I mentally checked myself out from head to toe, everything was coming up in the “good” zone and I felt like butter.  For the first mile we were in the lee of the island and had nice flat water. Then the open waters of the Pacific Ocean welcomed us whole-heartedly with 5-8 foot northwestern swells and western winds of 15 knots.  Our crew told us that had any of us known just how difficult these swells were to swim in, we all would have gotten out.  This is the time that I was really glad that I was swimming with others.  If they could do it, so could I and I’m sure they were thinking the same thing.  For the first two hours, it was all the three of us could do not to sandwich on top of one another. 
 
I kept reminding myself that I was swimming with really good people.  When it was all over, we would be able to reminisce these first few hours but for right now, when things are a little crunched, hold on and relax. Patience, patience, patience:  There must be a reason why he/she is doing that.  Remain calm and you’ll find out later what’s happening to everyone else right now.
 
We had arranged our order ahead of time: Richard would be on the outside in the kayak the whole time, David would swim next to him, I would swim in the middle, and Liz would swim on the right side.  To her right would be the other kayak then the boat.  The total distance from Richard to the boat was about 50 feet or less, so we were comfortably bundled. The swimmers and kayakers were organized to keep the lawyers amongst us, Richard and David, on the outside at the start because of the dreaded sharks that never appeared. Why? Because we had professional courtesy and they are not known to eat their own.  As for the feeding procedure, David and I would feed from Richard’s kayak and Liz would feed from the other one. One of the other rules of open water swimming, along with “clearing the water”, is that the swimmer cannot touch anything to gain assistance.  You can have things handed to you such as cups for feeds but you can’t touch the boat, kayak, or other swimmers unless it is accidental. Miraculously, we managed to adhere to this rule even in these bunched up, swelly seas. 
 
I volunteered to swim in the middle because I breathe bi-laterally (on both sides) and heck, with two young children, I’m used to having no personal space.  As we were being “swelled” into one other, I envisioned a large Oreo cookie with David and Liz as the cookie part and me as the crème.  Hey, if this is where my mind was now, I’m doing pretty well.  If I needed something else to think about, I always knew I could think about the fact that we were swimming in 3000 feet of water, 
or that there were things with teeth around, or how DARK it was.  As it turned out, I really didn’t worry about any of these things.  (Liz, sorry I almost bumped you again and again.)  Swimming in the Pacific at night in high seas with very little light gave me an appreciation for people in shipwrecks. Whenever I would lift my head up so that my eyes were at water level and look forward alligator-style, I could see only a black horizon line.
 
Now, I like stomach-dropping roller coasters just as much as the next person.  After about 2 hours of these seas,  I felt as if I may get sick from Mother Nature’s roller coaster.  I asked Richard to get some seasickness medicine to have on hand.  As it turned out, I didn’t take it and I didn’t get sick but it was nice to know it was right there if I needed it.  Leslie, Carol, and Nora thought I had taken it because in the darkness they couldn’t see our immediate actions and they were concerned that I was getting sick.  If a swimmer gets sick in the water there is always the concern that they will become dehydrated and have to abort the swim. Fortunately, none of us were sick. 
 
Around 3AM, I was tired.  Not tired from the swimming but tired from being up all night.  My brain felt like it was rattling around in my scull and I hoped that I could stay awake.  It really helped when the sun came up.  Staying up all night is just one of those things that you do for this swim and really can’t do anything more than rest up in the few days before.  There was no point in complaining about it either since we were all in the same “boat.”  By this point, I had hunkered down to a sustainable pace that I knew I could continue all night and kept thinking, “rotate, rotate, rotate”, which make me concentrate on rolling my hips and moving more easily through the water.  My stroke rate, number of arm pulls taken in a minute, held consistent at 64, (although down from 71 at the start.) Liz and David were also holding consistent SRs of 65 and 58, respectively. 
 
Richard was performing magnificently. Although he much prefers the role of “Sherpa” over “dean of discipline”, when we’re in the water, he is the BOSS and treats us like little children.  Not abusive, just authoritative, telling us what to do. When it’s all over, everyone is again on equal footing.  During this swim, he was managing to stay afloat, not take on water in his kayak, navigate in the dark, keep the other kayaker in line, feed David and me on regular 30 minute intervals, and stay pretty cheerful.  Because he’s so in control, it puts me at ease and lets me do my job: just swim.  At one feeding I said to him, “It’s soooo dark, Richard.  Can you see anything?” He told me, “I can’t see anything, not even the lights on the coast.”  In a moment of levity, I inquired, “Do you think they’re playing a cruel joke on us and leading us in a big circle back to the island?” 
 
Around 5 hours into the swim, my left shoulder started to hurt.  Had I not done all the PT work with Brian, this pain would have most likely begun earlier and been worse.  I asked Richard for 1 Motrin.  Two hours later, the pain was worsening.  At that feeding, Richard had 3 Motrins ready for me to take, barking, “Take these because the first one obviously isn’t doing the job.” (I took 2, and they worked.)  Other swiftly delivered commands from the kayak included, “Marcia, keep you head down and stop looking around. Let me do the sighting. There’s nothing to see anyway. Don’t be a tourist.”  (It was really foggy.)  At one point, because Liz and her kayaker were working their way about 10 yards forward, Richard gave her a “time out.”  He rearranged the swimmer order, had Liz swim right next to him, put David in the middle, and had me swim on the right, next to the other kayak.  If Liz got ahead of Richard’s kayak, he barked at her to stay back. 
 
Before the swim, I was concerned about potential encounters with sea life in this Channel.  While in the water, I barely thought of it at all.  Liz did report to Richard at one point that she was being attacked by “thousands of flying fish.” This was after she reported a seal darting at her in pitch black then hitting a sleeping sailfish (?). David and I saw and felt nothing even though we were all in the same water, giving Richard license to tease Liz after the swim. Liz wondered later if her bright pink suit acted like a lure and attracted marine life to “come by and take a look.” The only encounter I had with any sort of sea life was a few stings from random jellyfish tentacles at arbitrary points in the swim.  Yes, it hurt but by the time I would have stopped to complain about it, the sting would have subsided so I adhered to the “No complaining” rule.  
 
Around 6am, it finally became light; the official sunrise came at 6:25am. It seemed to go quickly from DARK to light and with this light came calmer water topped with fog, conditions we would have for the next two-and-a-half hours into the finish.  One of the benefits about swimming for 6 hours in the dark was that when it was finally light, much of the work had been done. At 6:10am a super tanker crossed about 200 yards in front of our bow, creating major swells, then our boat crew saw dolphins!  Liz said afterwards that she actually did see the dolphins (Richard pointed to them) and she tried to touch one that came within three feet in front of her. David and I didn’t see them, but apparently they got pretty close. Big exciting half hour for everyone!
 
At 7am, with the booming sound of Captain Greg’s bag pipes resonating across the water for the next 45 minutes, I knew everything was going well and that we were going to make it as long as we avoided a disaster.  We could see land, the temperature had dropped (to 63F) as it usually does in the final 3 miles, and all three swimmers were in good shape. Leslie and Nora even joined us in the water, making it a five-some!  From the pictures taken at this time, we look like some military formation: three swimmers bracketed by 2 kayakers in one line and two swimmers (Leslie and Nora) comfortably trailing the outside swimmers. 
 
In a way, I was almost sad that this was almost over since I thought it would be a 10-12 hour swim but all three of us were cranking towards a strong finish. Mark called the boat then and the crew relayed, “Mark is very proud of you.”  This added to my pure happiness at the moment and energized me.  Nora woke Julia up and she appeared on deck bleary-eyed, barely responding to my chipper, “Good Morning, Julia.”  The next thing I know she has disappeared only to re-appear in the launch (boat dinghy) that is speeding towards shore in preparation for our landing.  She would witness our finish up close and be one of the first ones to greet us after the swim!  
 
The skies remained overcast but we could clearly see the shore now.  Thanks to the Motrin Richard had insisted I take, my shoulder felt fine and I could comfortably keep up the increased pace offered by David and Liz. Everyone wanted to finish so when a feeding was presented at 8 ½ hours, I bluntly said, “NO.”  David told me later that he was glad I made such a quick, firm decision because he didn’t want it either.   We were in “Let’s Go!” mode.  
 
There is a lighthouse that overlooks Palos Verdes and on the next cliff just south of the lighthouse, there was a large screen; we would land in the small bay between these two points.  The screen turned out to be part of the fort scene in the movie “Pirates of the Caribbean”and several movie workers cheered on our finish from overhead. When we were about a mile from shore, Kevin Eslinger got in the water on his paddleboard and it was evident that he was there to guide us to a safe landing.  We headed straight towards the movie screen then made a sharp left into the bay.  I wondered why we weren’t landing straight ahead and knew this answer could wait: right now, the unspoken deal was to follow Kevin.  
 
The water was getting shallower and rockier with every stroke.  Ok, I’d heard about this finish, it didn’t look so bad. Then we hit the rocky beach.  The three of us each crawled in on all fours because we instantly realized that the combination of the rapidly pounding surf against the nasty little sharp, slippery rocks right at the surf line made for a dangerous landing.  When everyone was able, we stood up together and TA DA! Our swim was complete! It was 8:31am and we had just swum the Catalina Channel in 8 hours, 56 minutes, 10 seconds.  I was joyful that everything worked out.  This had been such an intimate team effort on the parts of everyone: swimmers, kayakers, and crew.  It amazed a lot of people that we successfully completed this incredible swim in such a fast time and it produced a deep sense of satisfaction for everyone involved. 
 
Kevin told us to pick up a few rocks and put them in our suit if we wanted any because we weren’t coming back to this beach.  Then we carefully negotiated a re-entry into the water (I dog-paddled) and swam to the waiting dinghy.  I was really happy to see everyone, especially Julia.  She was able to experience the raw emotion we were sharing and to see our bodies in their present condition.  Except for my aching shoulder, I felt and looked fine.  Liz and David were in a similar state.  
 
When we arrived back at Bottom Scratcher, everyone on board was ecstatic; they all had played a major role in our success.  The boat headed back to the dock in Long Beach and dolphins jumped in the aft wake, giving us a real show.  My brother, Bill, told me long ago that the reason dolphins always look like they’re smiling is, “If you could do the things dolphins can do in the water, you’d smile too.” 
 
On the boat Kevin told us about the reason for our sharp left turn at the finish. If we land under the movie screen it would have resulted in three immediate visits to a plastic surgeon.  The rocks there were much sharper than the sharp, nasty, slippery ones we landed on.  OUCH! Kevin also massaged my shoulder on the boat which enabled me to recuperate in just a few days. (THANK YOU KEVIN!)
The day after the swim, we recovered and reminisced in LA at David’s family’s home.  Sam nearly gave Gram heart failure by jumping off the dock “just like those big boys over there” (fortunately, he’s water-safe.) 
Leslie told me afterwards, 
“This was, by far, the most fun I’ve ever had on a boat.  Maybe it helps that Mary and Jon had me completely fixed up motion sickness medicine, but I think it had a lot more to do with all the special people on board, all of whom also seemed to be having a pretty great time themselves.”
“It's amazing that when you're on board in support of a swim, the time flies by and all you really think about is how incredibly special it is to be watching this kind of athletic effort in the water.  Replenishing the bottles and preparing all your goody bags could not have been done without Tom, Nora, Mary, Jon and I all working in the same capacity.”
Eventually we said our good-byes, knowing there would be a next time. Then we went back to Carol’s and relaxed some more.  The extent of our San Diego adventures included taking a short afternoon trip on the Amtrak California (giving Sam eternal joy), visiting the San Diego Zoo, hanging out at La Jolla Cove, and lounging in Carol’s pool.  Mark arrived on Friday night, ready for his full two-week vacation.  Gram headed back to Connecticut on Saturday morning, and our family foursome headed off to the Grand Canyon on Sunday, following a brief 5-mile swim race in La Jolla Cove.  
 
When I shared my initial results with family and friends, many people told me how inspired they were by this feat.  It makes me happy to know that this swim accomplished by a couple of 40-something-year-olds can help to prompt others to dream and then fulfill these dreams. Please continue to pass it along, with the hope that someone somewhere will set in motion the steps to achieve a dream.  Simply to get moving may be enough of a goal.
 
People ask me if I had a good time on Catalina Island.  Based on the 30 seconds we spent there, it was very nice. Someday, I’d like to return to explore more. 
 
I can never say it enough: Thank you to everyone who helped with this swim, both near and far. Thank you to David and Liz, Leslie, Nora, Carol, Richard, Kevin, Steve, Tom, David, Rich, and the crew of Bottom Scratcher.  Thanks especially to my mom who gave me the support I needed in California, and to Mark who has given me oh-so-much support for the past 15 years!
 
I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am!  
And swimming in the dark is a darn great experience.   
 
Onwards and upwards to the next challenges!
 
Swimcerely, 
Marcia Cleveland    August 31, 2005

​On July 29th, 1994, Marcia Cleveland became the 445thperson to swim the English Channel.  The story behind this swim: the process, the preparation, and the training is meticulously described in her book, Dover Solo: Swimming the English Channel. Discover what motivated Marcia to swim the 23-mile Strait of Dover where the summer water temperature averages only 60F/16C. Dover Solohas become the “Bible” for English Channel hopefuls and other aspiring marathon swimmers.
 
Copies are available on Amazon.com, or by clinking on the link above.
To obtain an autographed copy, please contact Marcia directly.

​

​Swimming the North Channel                            
by Marcia Cleveland
www.DoverSolo.com/
 
On Saturday July 21, 2018, I swam the North Channel, from Ireland to Scotland, finishing in 15 hours 3 minutes. It was the toughest swim I’ve ever done. I am deeply humbled and grateful to have accomplished this swim. As I continue reflect back, I am overcome by a sense of relief and, at times, a cringing sense how close I came to not making it. The North Channel has confounded countless more capable swimmers than myself, yet I was successful on my first attempt. 
 
By choosing to swim the North Channel, I was looking for a challenge and I got it, and then some.  

• I knew the water temperature would be cold: it was 53/54f (12c) for most of my swim. I believed I was ready for that. (Now I realize that I should have done at least two 12-hour swims in 53f/12cwater.) 
• I knew there would be jellyfish.  Because of my crew’s non-stop vigilance, I never hit a jelly head on during my 15 hours. This is some kind of miracle. 
• I knew the tides would be strong because of the northern latitude.  WOW! Even brief stops resulted in moving 100 yards with the tidal flow. 

 
I was not disappointed by any of these factors.  Each and every one of them had a chance to send me packing but somehow, in some teeny tiny way, I was able to get to the other side. It was not pretty and apparently, it never is. This is the first time in my life that I have been tested to this extent. I used up absolutely everything in my tank and still had a long, long way to go. How often does one get to be tested so thoroughly and feel so completely depleted at the finish, yet still be successful?
 
Let me be clear: I was never in danger of dying. However, I was in deep distress due to the cold and my nutrition plan.  My husband and crew member, Mark Green, had no interest in causing my demise (Who would make the dentist appointments or fill out all the family forms?) but instead allowed me the opportunity to push myself to a place way beyond where I had ever been before. My boat captain, Quinton Nelson, did the same.  He told me afterwards that in his 30-years of piloting swims, he has never seen someone so close to the brink of failure who finished successfully. Lee Harkleroad, my other crew member, was instrumental with this support and agreed beforehand to defer to Mark on all key decision. 
 
This swim simply kicked me hard when I was already down on my knees; the pervasive cold compounded over 15 hours mixed with nutrition that lacked an effective delivery system – which is completely my fault - resulted in hypothermia. Towards the end, I was so focused on finishing, my primal instincts screamed “Get to the beach.” All other sensory input was quite literally drowned out. 
 
I’m not a superhero or some amazing physical specimen. But I knew that if I had the energy to stop and complain or beg for an explanation of why we weren’t getting closer to the land during the swim, it would be wasted time, time that could be spent getting to land. We weren’t getting any closer because I wasn’t swimming faster at a time when the tide was pushing me in a north-south direction down the coast, when what I was trying to do was swim through it in a eastern direction.
 
I simply kept taking one more stroke.  YES YOU CAN is a chant I said over and over during those final hours when I was swimming at about 1 mile an hour. Marcy & Liz’s matter-of-fact voices, “Just keep swimming,” also rang in my dulled conscience. Fortunately, I intersected with the land before the tide swept me down the coast, which would have made finishing impossible on this particular swim. Why did I finish? I just kept going until I got there, and I got really lucky. 
 
I am amazed and grateful by the interest and love expressed by so many of you in support of this swim.  THANK YOU!
 
On the succeeding pages, I have transcribed my experience in more detail. The log that Lee kept is at the end and includes my perceptions as to what was happening at the various times he was recording notes during the swim.  It is my  hope that these accounts will help future aspirants realize the magnitude involved to swim the North Channel successfully.  Simply put, this is a really really hard swim.
 
The distance of the North Channel is approximately 21 miles across from Donaghadee, Northern Ireland (“donna-ga-DEE”) to Portpatrick, Scotland. 
 
In order for this swim to be verified by the Irish Long Distance Swimming Association, (www.northchannel.info), I followed Channel Swimming Rules, which allow for
one regular bathing suit (any Speedo off the rack will do), 1 silicone bathing cap, goggles, ear plugs, and grease (a mixture of Lanolin, Zinc Oxide, Sunscreen, and Vaseline.)  
 
These rules have stayed consistent since 1875 when Matthew Webb became the first person to swim the English Channel. Having the same equipment throughout history keeps the challenge intact and pure.
 
I contacted Quinton Nelson in November 2017 to secure him as a boat pilot. (There are 3 pilots listed on the NorthChannel.info site.)  He offered me an 8-day swim window, July 21 to July 28, to make my attempt, based on the weather and tides during that period.  I accepted. 
 
Quinton would pilot the escort boat 10 to 15 feet (3 to 5 meters) alongside me as I swam and he plotted the course during the swim using modern technology. I was the only swimmer he was responsible for at that time; this is a “Solo” swim. 
 
Channel Rules dictate that a swim must proceed under the sole effort of the swimmer so, although I could have things handed to me (and hand them back), no one could touch me to help. My crew would toss me bottles attached to ropes, filled with things like hot liquids and food, every 30-minutes or so. When your fingers/hands/brain are not working that well, this obviously becomes problematic. 
 
To qualify for this swim, one has to submit a swimming application, the association fee, a medical release, and proof of a 6-hour swim in 55f/13c water to the ILDSA. After their review, you are either accepted to swim or you are not. 
 
In the nine months leading up to the swim, I swam 30,000 to 40,000 yards (27,500 to 36,500 meters) a week which is 17 to 23 miles (27-37 Km.)  I did several multiple-hour swims in water ranging from 48f to 55f (8 to 13c), including two more 6-hour swims in 52-55f (11-13c) degree water. I did several short swims in water measuring 42 to 47f (5.5 to 8c). Based on my training, I thought I would be able to finish the North Channel between 11 and 14 hours.  
 
Finally, on July 17th, it was time to set off to Northern Ireland. 
 
From Chicago, Illinois, United States, we flew to London on a Tuesday morning flight, arriving at Heathrow in the evening. We stayed overnight at Heathrow and took a Wednesday morning flight to Belfast City Airport, which 20 miles (32 km) east of the Belfast International Airport. We rented a car at the airport.  From the airport, we went directly to meet Quinton Nelson at his boat yard in the Donaghadee Marina.  He said Saturday July 21stwas looking good as my swim day.  From there, we went to look at the starting spot, the rocks running along The Commons, and only a 10-minute boat trip south from the main harbor. The rocks are very sharp and Quinton sagely advised us to exhibit caution if we were to climb on them.  For my swim start, the high tide would cover them. 
 
From this spot, it was only logical to stop into Pier 36, an iconic restaurant and hotel along the Parade of the Donaghadee Harbor, for a beverage. If the North Channel swimmers were a Club, Pier 36 is the Club House. We went there often during our stay. The proprietors, father and son, Denis and Lewis Waterworth, are welcoming and put everyone immediately at ease.  They are also a wealth of knowledge on activities in the areas, especially pertaining to open water swimming.
 
We proceeded on to the town of Bangor which lies fifteen minutes west of Donaghadee. The house we rented there (through Airbnb.com) offered us the amenities of a private home, especially the washer/dryer, and allowed our crew to stay together. The house was situated just off the main square so we walked most everywhere while in Bangor. There are several excellent restaurants, catering to all sorts of tastes and budgets. We certainly didn’t go hungry. 
 
After some lunch, unpacking, and a short nap, it was time for a swim.  Ballyholme Beach had been suggested as a great training spot, just a short car ride away from our rental. The Ballyholme Yacht Club anchors one end of the beach. Swimmers can swim along a ¾ mile (1 km) stretch to the opposite end. I did a short dip and discovered the water to be 67f/20c!  When I swam there again on Thursday for a longer training swim, this time in 61f/20c, I hit a lion’s mane jellyfish squarely with my left arm. It wrapped itself around me and gave me a good dose of what to expect on Saturday. Apparently, due to the tidal circulation, Ballyholme is swarming with jellies so swimmers need to beware.  
 
On Friday, I swam in Donaghadee Harbor for a short training swim, this time without incident. It was at this time that I offered the “Unity Water” and sea glass to the North Channel Goods. I brought them from my training beach at home and would take some of both home with me after my swim for a reciprocal “Unity” ceremony in Illinois. On the Tuesday after my swim, we would meet up with the Chunky Dunkers, a lively group claiming to be everyone from Fast to Floaters. They swim off the sailing slip in Donaghadee Harbor nearly every high tide, They are a delightful, welcoming group and well worth meeting.  If I had been in Northern Ireland for longer than a few days, a combination of swims with the Chunky Dunkers blended with longer ones at various area beaches would have been a good training mix. (I also gifted the Dunkers with a few caps and a t-shirt. These items were rapidly auctioned off on-line, with the proceeds going to a charitable cause.)
 
Soon, Friday night came, and with it, the time to make all the final preparations. Bags were packed and placed by the door, morning provisions were set up, and lights were out early. The big day was nearly upon us! 
 
If you know me, you know I thrive on preparation, which is why it is so very very difficult to realize and to hear what really happened on my North Channel swim instead of the magnificent I envisioned.  Accelerating into the finish! Having the strength of ten at all times! Triumphal pose and all that jazz! Laughing, singing, joyful embraces! In actuality, it wasn’t pretty or the way I had expected it to go. I had to reach deeper than ever before, not in some macho, hulking effort but continuing to move forward even though I didn’t realize how close to the brink of not finishing I was. 
 
This is why I am going to first discuss the simple mistakes I made before and during my swim that would compound in the final third of my swim, the meat of the swim in which you’ll finish, or you won’t. However, to those who witnessed it, one thing sure is clear: I do have grit. I just kept going. 
 
Mistake #1: Not pre-hydrating enough. Drinking a gallon of sensible, coal-stoking fluids for 4 days in advance made my Tahoe swim a breeze last summer. For the North Channel, I pre-hydrated for one day only. 
 
Mistake #2: Not putting a little bit of water in my cap before I started. Doing so cements my hair to my cap and keeps everything in place. As a result of not doing this, my cap developed an air pocket, resulting in it eventually riding up over my ears, creating a Dumbo-like effect which I fixated on fixing.  Because my fingers and hands were not working too well when this issue became a problem, I spent a good 5 minutes trying to do something most think of as simple: pull my silicone cap down over my ears.  These inactive 5 minutes spent bobbing in a swift tide as I fiddled with my cap probably added at least 30 minutes to my overall swim time. 
 
Mistake #3: My Feeding plan. It eventually worked out to be as effective as liquified sawdust and cheese doodles… Garbage in… Garbage out... 
 
Before you get all ready to pounce on me with advice, please know that the products and plan I have been using for several years have gracefully gotten me across some pretty steep finish lines in fine style.  However, the whole thing didn’t work for me on Saturday July 21, 2018, and I take full responsibility. Also, the food delivery system wasn’t adequate for my needs during my North Channel swim.  Again, this one is fully on me.
 
My North Channel Feeding Plan was:
At approximately 1 hour, 10 minutes, I would have:
8 ounces (8 US Ounces = 236 Milliliters) Endurox + 1 Hammer Gel (1.2 ounces/33 grams) (Vanilla or Raspberry flavored) 
Then next at about 35-40 minutes later: 8 ounces Endurox + 1 Hammer Gel (Vanilla or Raspberry flavored)
Then next at about 35-40 minutes later: 8 ounces (8 US Ounces = 236 Milliliters) GNC Pro-Performance 100% Whey Protein + 1 Hammer Gel (Vanilla or Raspberry flavored)
 
Repeat the whole thing on about 35-minute cycles. Occasionally, my crew substituted Chicken Broth for one of the drinks, and Espresso Hammer Gel for the boost in caffeine. 
Before the swim, I took one Aleve, and then got another one at around 6 hours, at my request. 
 
The feeding bottles I started using in the past year (Rubbermaid 20 ounces/600 ml Flip top Chug Bottles) are attached to ropes and thrown to me. They have drink spout openings the size of US nickels/3/4”/20mm. I was in such a hurry to chug my feed down thatI just couldn’t/wouldn’t consume enough from these feeding bottles. I didn’t take the time to properly consume all the liquid in the bottle and was only getting about 3-4 ounces/~100 milliliters per feeding, nowhere near enough.  This lack of consumption compounded over time and probably caused my near-collapse at the end.  At some point, I hope I am able to forgive myself for this amateur mistake.
 
I had nothing in the tank. Going forward, I will either have to live with slower feeds and take the time to properly consume my food, or go with open cups from a feeding basket, the way I used to do it, until last summer, when I “reappeared” on the scene. The open cups I formerly used - delivered to me via a feeding basket - allowed me to quickly chug 10 oz in a matter of seconds. 
 
One of the things we did do right was to measure the highest warm temperature that I could chug, 120f/49c.  All my feeds came at about that temperature so again, thank you Mark and Lee. 
 
There are times for the last several hours I simply don’t remember because I was hypothermic, but still conscious. The cumulative effect of cold water and not ingesting enough nutrition had a huge impact at the end. The video Mark took of me at the end looks like another person (i.e. not me) is swimming, a poor one who can barely get her arms out of the water. This is very hard for me to watch because I thought I was just “tiring.” Lee got in the water to swim me in to the finish and said I didn’t notice that he was there for several minutes. 
 
Over the next few days, both Mark and my observer, Cara Martin, were telling me what the last four (or so) hours of my swim were like.  The only thing I really remember is the monotonous grind of stroking on and on, looking up at the coast occasionally. Since my stroke rate remained a fairly constant +/- 60 throughout the 15 hours it took, I thought I was ok.  I was not. The strength of my pull started to deteriorate by half way and, unbeknownst to me, I limped to the finish.  What was also happening is that hypothermia was setting in and, as Marcy commented to me right afterwards, it is brutal to watch someone in this situation.
 
I have been around others who were at this level of moderate hypothermia, but when I was experiencing it myself, I thought I was just fine. That’s probably the difference between the real thing and faking it.
 
To end this particular swim, you must either touch the cliff face or stand up in waist-deep water. A bit unusual but due to the severity of the Scottish coastline, we now understand. So if I had touched the rock that was jutting out on a little peninsula about 1000 yards from the “beach,” I probably would’ve save myself a bunch of swimming & time. I never saw it even though Lee was pointing it out but since I wasn’t registering that Lee was there yet, let’s just say that it was a “missed opportunity.” Then if I was hearing what Lee was telling me, “Stand up now!” when we were very close to the beach, I would’ve been done. But not Marcia. If there’s a beach, I’m going claw myself onto that beach to where there’s no water in front of me, quite ungracefully and on all fours if necessary, as was the case in this swim. I managed to slice a nice chunk of skin off one of my  fingers in my quest to finish “properly.” I was operating on sheer instinct because I was so out of it. But and I finished!
 
By the grace of God, there was a kayaker on the beach where I finished. Like all my other swims, I’d figure that I’d swim back to the boat but had no idea that this was not possible due to the tidal waters at that time, and my deteriorated condition. Lee asked this “Angel Kayaker” to paddle me back to the boat. I have a very hazy memory of getting into the kayak and it was only later that they told me it was not under my own power; Lee and the kayaker had lifted me in. 
 
I have no memory of getting back onto the escort boat, maybe because the four people who were lifting and hauling me were quite gentle and carefully didn’t bang me around. Apparently, three of them were lifting me from above and the Angel Kayaker was pushing from below. Mark told me later that they first took me to the front of the boat to wipe off the grease and cover me up.  I was walking and talking but not making any sense, saying things such as, “I’m fine. I’m not hypothermic.” I don’t remember any of this. The plan was for me to go into the front cabin for the return trip to Ireland but with a 6-foot ladder (2 meters), no one wanted to risk getting me down there.  Finally, it was decided that I would go into the aft cabin near the wheelhouse because there were only a few stairs to descend. 
 
I was then wrapped in a stack of blankets fit for a reverse reenactment of the Princess and the Pea.  Cara began massaging my feet and limbs to get my circulation going. It was only when they started to get me out of my wet suit and into dry clothes that my memory again activates. I remember that it was quite light when I landed but now it was dark out, so there was probably a good hour of blank tape on my cerebral recorder.  Once in my dry clothes: there were regular blankets then a thermal blanket then a rain coat and a hat, I was starting to make sense and appreciate all that was being done for me.  When we came back into Donaghadee Harbor, I was able to walk off the boat by myself. That was a good sign. I was going to be ok.  
 
For anyone to put one of these swims together takes a Herculean effort. Arranging one’s family, life, work, and everything else gets complicated. For Mark and me to leave our son, Sam, a person with moderate autism, for a day, no less two weeks, takes planning similar to the invasion of Normandy and requires a small village of caring, knowledgeable folks. I started preparing a month in advance.  Although these details kept me motivated to be successful, neither Mark nor I would put me into serious jeopardy: safely returning to our family after any swim is always my Numero Uno Goal.
 
A few days after my swim, Mark and I took the ferry over to Scotland and found the landing spot.  We were truly blessed to find my Angel Kayaker, Keith Carman, a man vacationing from Dollar, Scotland with his two young children, Kerr (almost 10) and Grace (4). They were relieved and delighted, in that order, to find out I was ok and we enjoyed some afternoon tea together. Talk about being in the right place at the right time! To get to Morroch Bay, we hiked over from the wonderful Michelin-starred Knockinaam Lodge knockinaamlodge.com,located overlooking the next bay south, on the other side of one Scotland’s many lovely cliffs. People at Knockinaam had also been watching my slow progress towards Morroch Bay on Saturday and enjoyed learning of the outcome. Our whole time in Scotland was magical. 
 
The North Channel Swim is now behind me. It was the hardest thing I have ever done to date. It took everything I had, physically and mentally, and I am amazed at my success. It was by far not my best swim because of many mistakes I made before and during the swim.  As far as my nutrition plan goes, extending the feed interval during the first three hours may have created a deficit that I couldn’t overcome through subsequent feedings. But more importantly, I didn’t input enough nourishment at each feed to cover my current output, and I need to work on that. 
 
If I want to do other swims, I must take measures to correct these mistakes so that my own safety and health is not pushed so closely to the brink. I am not proud of the stress I put on my crew or captain. “Thank you for letting me continue” falls far, far short of the sentiment and appreciation I feel. It is not often in life that we get the chance to be so completely tested on so many levels and still manage to achieve a goal. My North Channel Swim represents this opportunity to me. 
 
Why didn’t I ever give up?  I just kept going because they didn’t tell me to stop or give me a reason. Mark was with me and he knew how far I could go. Despite my distress, I was not complaining or emotionally ruffled.  These traits take time to develop. Although I have progressed in this area, I still have a long way to go. 
 
If the English Channel is “The Everest” of Open Water Swimming, the North Channel must be a north-face assent of K2 in the winter. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/K2 A true test of qualification for this swim is a few 10 to 12 hour swims in 53-54f/11-12c, preferably in salt water inhabited by Jellyfish. It is perfectly understandable if this doesn’t sound like something you’d like to pursue. I’m just saying….
People always want to know what Body Parts Hurt during and after a Swim. Fortunately, for me this time, no body parts hurt during the swim.  I was basically icing my body for the entirety of this swim so all systems were a-go when I was in the water.  It was afterwards that body parts seemed to be coming forward in carefully choregraphed ways so that each and every part could adequately hurt, but thankfully, just not all at once. 
 
Saturday Night, after the swim: 
I didn’t sleep at all. (This is pretty typical.) My throat hurt from the salt water and as a result, I had difficulty swallowing. My skin itched from the jellyfish tentacles that brushed by me. I was parched but because swallowing was difficult, I had a hard time replacing my fluids. Later on, I experienced some mild diarrhea. In about 15-minute cycles, I would lay down in bed then shoot back up because I was so parched. I would sip from the bedside water bottle then need to blow my nose. Then I would lay down again, spreading my wettish hair above my head over a towel on my pillow. This action would cause my arms to get cold so I’d bring them under the covers to warm them up. A few minutes later, I would shoot back up because I was so parched, and so it continued. Eventually I would add in trips to the bathroom (a good sign). After not knowing what time it was, around 3am I retrieved my phone and realized I had just pulled an all-nighter. Oh what the heck!  What’s one all-nighter when you’re already exhausted?  Mark slept in another room, for obvious reasons. 
 
Sunday Morning
I am swollen all over. My throat is still really sore, my voice is raspy and hoarse; all the result of soaking one’s mouth/bod in salt water for 15 hours. My reaction time is sluggish. My skin continues to itch so I cover the itchy parts with Balmex, which helps. My left knee and my left shoulder are both achy. I tend to my middle finger on my right hand that I skinned badly crawling up on to the Scottish shore. I will live. 
 
Sunday Afternoon
My body remains Puffy, from fatigue and brining in salt water for 15 hours. My skin starts to feel better, but my tongue, hands and wrists start to swell. I can’t get my wedding ring on nor slide my watch over my wrist.  Both my shoulders are achy. 
 
Monday Morning 
My skin issues are gone but my left knee remains achy. My voice remains hoarse and soft and my throat is quite sore; Throat lozenges help immensely. I continue to have trouble swallowing and can only take tiny sips and nibbles of food. My tongue is swollen. I’m finding scrapes on both legs and knees, and on my right arm from my beach crawl. My wrists and forearms are now officially sore and my reaction time is continues to be sluggish. I am still very tired. My right eye is blood shot from where my goggles were leaking, and it hurt a bit. There are scabs along the line of my eye glasses, where my goggles dug into my face.
 
Monday Afternoon/Evening
Voice, Throat, Wrists, Forearms, Reaction Time, and Right Eye: All status quo. 
My right hip flexor is getting achy. My tongue has started to molt, like a snake’s skin, and is coming off in sheets of skin. Eating anything burns my newly-exposed taste buds. 
Tuesday All Day
My tongue continues to molt. Canker sores are now emerging in my mouth. 
 
Wednesday All Day
My voice is coming back and my throat, with help from three days’ worth of sucking on throat lozenges, is feeling better; it will take a week to fully recover. My taste buds are sensitive.  Everything up is healing up well.  I am tired and will be for the next two weeks but I certainly will live! 
 
Two Weeks after The Swim
My finger tips and first knuckles begin to blister and peel uniformly across all 10 digits. Weird.
 
Lee wrote a most excellent log of the swim that I will introduce at this point. I have added my thoughts, as noted.  It is hard for me to read parts of it, to find out how far down the hole I went. I had to earn this swim and I surely have a great respect for the North Channel!  Most importantly, I safely made it.  That is always my primary goal of any event. 
 
 

Crew’s Log from Saturday July 21st:
North Channel Swim                                                     July 21, 2018
Donaghadee, Northern Ireland to Marroch Bay, Portpatrick, Scotland.
15 Hours, 3 minutes
Quinton Nelson - Boat Captain & Pilot,   Ross – 1stMate, John – 2ndMate
Cara Martin – Official Observer for ILDSA.
Marcia’s Crew: Mark Green, husband, & Lee Harkleroad, friend.
 
Lee: Lee is up first at about 3:00AM to get the hot water boiling for our coffee and tea. Marcia is up at 3:10AM and comes downstairs at about 3:20AM. Marcia has her tea with almond milk, a banana, 2 hard-boiled eggs. Marcia takes her oatmeal and a small bottle of Gatorade (2 scoops) and she will eat the oatmeal and sip the Gatorade while we drive to the harbor. Lee relishes his instant coffee while Mark reluctantly accepts that instant coffee will just have to do for this morning. Although we were originally told to be at the Harbor at 4:00AM, a later email updated our departure time to 4:30AM. We concluded that we would just stick to the original plan of trying to arrive at the harbor by 4:00AM. 
 
Marcia: It had been a fitful night of sleep and I was finally awake at 2:49AM, nervous about the swim but ready to get started. I stayed in bed until I heard Lee’s alarm go off. After using the bathroom, I was able to stretch for a few minutes before we left. I find it helps me to remain calm if I don’t think too much about what lies before me for the day.  In my mind, I was going to do “a long training swim, with some feeding breaks.” It was a quiet 15-minute ride to Donaghadee Harbor in pre-dawn light; I nibbled on some of the oatmeal but just didn’t feel like eating much of it, after the other food.  All was proceeding to plan for the start of a marathon swim: The drive to the boat, usually in the dark; loading up the boat, also usually in the dark; then pushing off from the dock; greasing up; and the jump. 
 
Lee: At 3:45AM Mark and Lee load all of Marcia’s gear into the back of our rental SUV. All the gear was packed the night before and waiting by the front door. We leave the apartment at approximately 3:50AM and arrive in Donaghadee harbor at approximately 4:00AM. The harbor is dimly lit but you can tell that the tide is up as expected. It’s an overcast morning and a bit on the cool side and can best be described as a gray day. No one milling around the Harbor this time of morning. We pull the car up as close as we can to the gate chain and begin the wait for the crew to arrive. Shortly after our arrival we are met by the first mate Ross who indicates that the boat is already here. Marcia tries to go use the bathroom at Pier 36 but alas the door is locked so Marcia returns to the car to wait and stay warm. (She eventually uses the head on the boat.) Mark and Lee start the process of carrying the gear to the boat. Once all the gear is aboard Marcia comes on down to the boat and Mark returns to park the car. 
 
Marcia: A few notes before we get too far into this. For starters, my crew was amazing: Mark Green, my husband, and Lee Harkleroad, a great friend, attended to my every need and one of them always had “eyes on” me. Their vigilance was a testament to the fact that I was never hit head-on by any one of the hundreds of jellyfish we encountered.  These jellies weren’t the cutesy ones you see at the aquarium: many had bells the size of trash can lids and bodies shaped like stuffed teddy bears dragging Rapunzel-length tentacles; I did brush by several of these appendages but no envelopments. This was a huge help.
 
Lee: We are also met at the boat by a 40ish man named John who will also be on the boat to assist us in the swim as the 2ndmate. John indicates that this is his channel swim and you can tell he is excited. John proceeds to introduce himself to Marcia as JooHan which begged the question of how you spell it and John indicated it was spelled JOHN which seemed to be somewhat humorous to Marcia that the accent would be so pronounced. At about this time our North Channel Swim official observer arrives. Her name is Cara Martin. Cara is a petite blond Northern Irish lady who resides in Donaghadee. Cara also indicates that she is a special needs school teacher and so that fact alone was a bonding type moment when Mark indicated that Marcia & his son, Sam, was special need child. Cara indicated that she was a member of the Chunky Dunkers and this was also her first swim observation. 
 
At approximately 4:25AM Captain Quinton Nelson arrives and the boat engines start shortly thereafter.  Captain Nelson tells Marcia that she has 10 minutes before she starts the swim. Mark and Lee start applying the grease to the legs first and then to the back neck and arms. No grease goes on feet or hands as Marcia needs them to grip the water. The crew casts off the boat lines and the boat twirls on its axis to move out into the harbor and toward to the opening to the North Channel. There is a bit of wind and the water appears to be a bit choppy. Daylight is starting to appear on the horizon but it’s still dark. The Captain takes the boat a bit east of the harbor to a rock point where Marcia will jump in and swim to land. Faint images of Scotland appear in the distance.
 
Marcia: This was the fastest Start swim I’ve ever had, 10 minutes from the time we left the Harbor.  It felt a bit rushed but this is the way it is in the North Channel. We were doing what we should to get going. I had put my cap on in the car (without water – a big mistake that I would pay for later in the day), I striped down to my suit and sandals, Lee and Mark each put on latex gloves, and each took one side of me to cover me in grease. It was time. I said just before jumping in, “God, be with me today.”
 
Lee: Marcia positions herself at the gate opening on the starboard side of the boat.  At approximately 4:41AM Captain Nelson gives the signal to start and at Marcia jumps into the water and starts to swim to land. A few minutes later she establishes herself on the rocks in waist deep water. At approximately 4:46AM the observes gives the signal that Marcia has established herself on land and that she can begin the swim. Marcia starts the swim on the port side of the boat and quickly positions herself toward the middle of the boat. Mark and Lee take up positions on the same side of the boat so that they can try to warn Marcia of potential jelly collisions. 
 
Marcia:I swam into the shore. At 53f/12c, the water temperature felt fine. I guessed where to put my feet down and stood up in waist-deep water. Even though we had gone over this, the start was confusing to me as I approached the rocks. Usually, Channel rules are to start with no water behind you and finish with no water in front of you. However, North Channel rules allow swimmers to start and finish in waist-deep water, due to the severity of the rocks and the push of the tide. If the boat had had a light or an airhorn to signal my start, it would have made it clearer to me that yes, in fact, I was good to go. 
 
Lee: Captain Nelson had indicated on the day we met him at his boat yard that he wanted Marcia to swim hard for the first three hours and take limited feeds as he thought it was important to be at a particular point in the tide cycle. Doing this perhaps presents a risk of creating a calorie deficit but the Captain was pretty insistent that Marcia hit his 3-hour mark. 
 
Marcia:I was game to do this and swam hard, realizing, “I’m swimming the North Channel. This is what it’s all about. I’m going to be fine. Just gotta keep taking one more stroke.” I had no idea how hard this swim would be, that it would take every bit of me, that all I would do by the end was to keep on taking one more stroke without question or complaint. My goal was to finish and in order to do so, this is what it would take. Over and over and over again. I could not overthink the task at hand.
 
Lee: It takes a bit of time for Mark and Lee to get a better understanding of the depth of the Jellies we are passing, so that they aren’t continually disrupting the rhythm of Marcia’s swimming. Early on the jellies were difficult to spot but there appeared to be quite a few jellies with the majority being the more dangerous lion’s mane type.  A bit later we were told not to worry about the moon jellies as they would not be harmful to Marcia.
 
Marcia:Within a few minutes, lion’s mane jellyfish appeared. Many were the size of trash can lids, with tentacles trailing 20 feet (7 meters.) I figured they would only be with us along the coastlines and within a few miles, we’d be free.  However, they accompanied us nearly all day.  It is a true testament to the devotion, commitment, and attentiveness of my crew that I never hit a jellyfish head on all day even though we navigated through a mine field of them.  (I encountered a lot of loose tentacles but that was not an issue.) Lee and Mark immediately realized the situation and thought fast on their feet to guide me through the jellies using universal hand signals: “Come towards me,” “Push away, “Go around” and lots of pointing. It was very stressful for all of us but worth it. I am greatly indebted to them.  Having a crew able to think on their feet and immediately react to unexpected situations is critical towards the success of a swim. One of them always had their eyes on me for the entire 15 hours and 3 minutes. This is completely a team effort.
With the Jellies, even though they were a continual source of anxiety and stress, I needed to figure out how they would not cause me to produce negative energy. One thought going into this swim was that they were my friends and fans cheering me on, and I should mentally wave back in gratitude.  After the first hour or so, I realized this wasn’t working because the jellies were everywhere, well beyond the capacity of even the most dedicated and loyal friends and fans.  I started to say, “Peace Be With You” every time I saw a Jelly.  It was not always easy and especially after close calls, sometimes came out in a halted stutter, “ah…. peace…..be…….ah with you” but it did allow me a minute sense of calm. 
 
Lee: Mark and Lee had previously agreed that Mark would handle the preparation of Marcia’s liquid feedings since he had done so on previous swims. Lee would handle the Swim log, keep an eye out for jellies, keep an eye on Marcia, prepare the white board with motivational comments that Marcia had prepared on index cards, write the names of family, friends and supporters that Marcia had scripted out and prepare any solid feedings that will be required.   
 
At approximately 4:51 AM Marcia’s stroke count was 74 stokes per minute. Because of the slight breeze, the water had 2-3 feet of chop, so it was a bit more effort to navigate the chop. There were also patches of brownish kelp that Marcia had to navigate through.
At approximately 5:06 Marcia rolled over on her back. It scared those of us on the boat, but Marcia yelled that she was OK, just adjusting her goggles.
 
Marcia:My goggles were fogging badly, making it hard to see the boat. I wished I had rinsed them out with some water before I started, to help with defogging.
 
Lee: At 5:11AM the stroke count was 70. 
At 5:31AM Marcia’s stroke count was still 70. Sheasked how long she had been swimming and we wrote 45 minutes on the white board. 
 
At 6:00AM   Marcia’s stroke count was 70.
 
6:00AM 1 Hr 14 Min or 65 minutes into the swim Marcia took her first feed of Endurox and a Vanilla Hammer Gel. Bottles attached to a rope were thrown to her from the boat. Marcia appears to take about half of the 20 oz. bottle and the entire packet of gel.  Marcia also did a Listerine wash of her mouth. 
 
After this initial feed, Mark and John combined to do the rest of the feeds with Mark extending the basket and John pulling up the bottles by rope. Lee kept watch for jellies. At this time Captain Nelson moved Marcia over to the leeward (right) side of the boat to cut down of the amount of chop and wind Marcia was experiencing. Given the speed that Marcia was making the Captain thought we were on pace to hit the 3-hour mark and so we decided to move the feed schedule to 45 minutes.  
 
Marcia:I was in such a hurry to get my feed down that I made mistakes in this area on many levels. Mainly the bottles I was using (Rubbermaid 20 ounces/600 ml Fliptop Chug Bottles) had openings that were the size of a US Nickel (3/4”, 20mm). Because I wanted to chug so fast to get my feed down, I didn’t take the time to properly consume all the liquid in the bottle. This would become a major problem as the swim progressed because I wasn’t properly nourished.  At some point, I hope I am able to forgive myself for this amateur mistake.
 
Going forward, I will either have to live with slower feeds and take the time to properly consume my food, or go with open cups from a feeding basket, the way I used to do it, until last summer, when I “reappeared” on the scene.  One of the things we did do right was to measure the highest warm temperature that I could chug, 120f/49c.  All my feeds came at about that temperature so again, thank you Mark and Lee. 
 
Lee: At 6:20 AM, 1 Hr 35 Min Marcia’s stoke count was 70. Wahoo Bolt indicated 2.8 miles covered in the first 1:34 minutes. This would suggest a speed of a little bit less than 2 mph. Marcia was planning to maintain a 2 mph pace. 
 
At 6:45AM, 2 Hr we did another feed comprised of Endurox and an Espresso Hammer gel. Marcia appears to again take in about half of the 20 oz. bottle and consumed the entire gel. Marcia sounds good and says she feels good and very aware of her time. We decide that we will now move to 35-minute feed intervals.
 
At 6:50AM Marcia requested that if John was going to smoke to please go to the other side of the boat. He did his smoking on the other side of the boat for the rest of the swim.
 
Marcia:I know he didn’t mean to be aggravating but, on the water, my olfactory senses work overtime and some smells can make me nauseous, especially cigarette smoke. 
 
Lee: At 7:00AM Marcia’s stroke count was 66.
A Wahoo Bolt indicated 4.6 miles covered in the first 2:34 minutes. This would suggest a speed of approximately 2 mph
 
At 7:20AM we do another feed comprised of a protein drink and a Vanilla Hammer gel
 
At 7:30AM Marcia’s stroke count was 66.
 
At 7:45AM, 3 Hr  Marcia’s stroke count was 68.
 
At 7:50AM we do another feed comprised of Endurox and a Vanilla Hammer gel
Wahoo Bolt indicated 5.3 miles covered in the first 3 Hr 02 minutes. This would suggest a speed slightly in excess of 2 mph
 
At 8:08AM Marcia’s stroke count was 68 per minute. There is a bit of sunlight on the horizon, so it doesn’t appear to be such a gray day.
 
At 8:20AM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox and a Vanilla Hammer gel
 
At 9:00AM, 4 Hr 15 Min we do another feed comprised of a Protein drink and an Espresso Hammer gel. We conclude that we will stick with a 35-minute feeding schedule. The sun has come out now and has had a warming effect.                                                                                                                             
Marcia:I saw a few bolts of sunlight, knowing a higher power was watching over me. There were only a few such signs throughout the day.     
 
Lee: At 9:05AM Marcia’s stroke count was 68 per minute
At 9:35AM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox and a Vanilla Hammer gel.                                                                                                                                                         
Marcia:All through this time of the swim, it was very straightforward and mechanical: Swim as fast as possible, avoid the jellyfish when instructed to do so, keep an eye on the boat, stop for feeds.  I was in an even mood and felt we were making progress.  The water temperature and conditions were fine to me.
 
Although this is going to sound gross to those of you not familiar with open water swimming, peeing is an important aspect of one’s physical condition and the crew and observer need to know when this event occurs.  Simply put, you just go through your suit.  (I can do it without stopping, a talent that took years to master.) A big clue that I wasn’t ingesting enough is that my first pee came at 5 hours into the swim. I only remembering peeing one other time during this swim. Not a good sign.                                                      
Lee: Wahoo Bolt indicated 7.7 miles covered in the first 4 Hr 12 minutes. This would suggest a speed of 1.8 mph
Wahoo Bolt indicated 10.0 miles covered in the first 5Hr 10 minutes. This would suggest a speed of a wee bit under 2 mph 
 
At 10:10AM, 5 Hr 25 Min we do another feed comprised of a Chicken Broth, a Vanilla Hammer gel and a quarter of a Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich and a fig bar. Marcia consumed about half of the broth all of the gel and most of the PB&J and the Fig Newton. I think she finds the PB&J difficult to get down, but she really seems to like the fig bar.
At 10:30AM Marcia’s stroke count was 68 per minute
 
Marcia:During this time, I was thinking about my family and my friends, everyone who had helped me get to this point. Lee was putting a lot of names and mantras on the white board for me to see. One of my favorites is, “Success is a Result, Not a Goal.”  
 
I thought about all the people who were helping us out with Sam for the two weeks we would be away. To those folks, we are gratefully indebted, and we whole-heartedly thank you. 
 
I thought about my children and Mark a lot during this time.  I usually breathe every 3 strokes, so my pattern is Stroke-Stroke-Stroke-Breathe-Stroke-Stroke-Stroke-Breathe. Often, I’ll chant, “Mark, Julia, Sam,” (breathe) to this cadence. At some time, this morphed into, “I love you” (breathe) “Mark Thomas Green” (breathe). Mark was doing so much to make my dream of swimming the North Channel a reality. He knew how hard to push me and has seen me endure some major pain. I am grateful that he continued to believe in my ability to finish this swim. 
 
Lee: At 10:45AM, 6 Hr  we do another feed comprised of a Protein, a Vanilla Hammer gel and a quarter of a Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich. Marcia consumed about half of the protein all of the gel and none of the PB&J. I think she finds the PB&J difficult to get down.
 
Marcia:I thought the PB&J took too much time to chew. 
 
Lee: At 10:55AM Marcia’s stroke count was 68 per minute
At 11:02AM Marcia’s stroke count was 66 per minute. I did the stroke count again because for the first time it appeared that she was slowing down.
At 11:20AM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox, a Vanilla Hammer gel. Marcia consumed about half of the Endurox and all of the gel.
At 11:25AM Marcia’s stroke count was 64 per minute. Lots of Jelly Fish right now. Really having to watch closely.
At 11:30AM Marcia’s stroke count was 68 per minute.
At 11:35AM, 6 Hr 50 Min Marcia’s stroke count was 64 per minute but at 11:45AM she is back up to 68. I’ve started to take the Stroke Count more frequently as she appears to be slowing but the stroke rate does not suggest what my eyes are seeing. I think that she is not getting as much pull from the stroke as she was earlier in the swim and suggest that some fatigue is setting in. 
At 11:55AM we do another feed comprised of Endurox, an Espresso Hammer gel. Marcia consumed about half of the Endurox and all of the gel. Marcia also requested an Aleve for the next feed. 
 
Marcia:My body felt fine, but I was taking this more as a preemptive measure.
 
Lee: At 12:09PM Marcia’s stroke count was 62 per minute
At 12:21PM Marcia’s stroke count was 62 per minute
At 12:30PM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox and a Vanilla Hammer gel. Marcia consumed about half of the Endurox and all of the gel. 
At 12:40PM Marcia’s stroke count was 62 per minute
At 12:50PM, 8 Hr 5 Min Marcia’s stroke count was 62 per minute
At 1:05PM we do another feed comprised of a chicken broth and an Espresso Hammer gel. Marcia consumed about half of the broth and all of the gel. 
After this feeding the Captain asks that we tell Marcia to really hustle for the next hour as he was trying to hit a particular current that would be favorable. We give Marcia the white board sign signal of “Vroom” and ask her to pick up the pace. Her stroke rate came up but I’m not convinced that her speed increased.
 
Marcia:I was trying to pick it up, but I felt when I pressed down on the gas, I was on empty. This would become very frustrating for me. 
 
Quinton Nelson is an excellent boat captain. He knows every inch of water in the North Channel and has been piloting swimmers for over 30 years. His straight-forward, professional demeanor allows the crew to have full jurisdiction over the swimmer while he remains keenly aware of what is happening with the swimmer. Because he must have seen something in me that conveyed determination even though I was often at a very low point, he had faith in his decision to allow me to continue towards Scotland and the finish. For this insight and judgement, I extend my deepest respect and appreciation.  He told me four days after my swim, when we went to visit, “I won’t forget your swim any time soon.”
 
Lee: The sun is out now and feels warmer. The water is not choppy but there are 3-4’ (1+meter) rollers. (This means waves that are calmly moving over the surface of the water.) Sometimes Mark and I have to hold tight to keep from being tossed off the boat when the boat turns almost to a 45-degree angle.  Based on the weather forecast, Quinton thought the sun would be out much earlier and the water would be calm. The Weather Gods had other plans for the day, making this a more challenging swim. 
At 1:10PM Marcia’s stroke count was 62 per minute
At 1:25PM Marcia’s stroke count was 62 per minute
 
At 1:40PM, 8 Hr 55 Min we do another feed comprised of an Endurox and a Vanilla Hammer gel. Marcia consumed about half of the Endurox and all of the gel. Marcia getting a bit testy. Shouting at John to get out of the doorway so that she has line of sight to the Captain. Marcia also didn’t like that fact that her swim cap had slipped up over her ears. Marcia spent at least 5 extra minutes working with the cap which could potential mean that the cold is causing some loss of dexterity in her hands. She ultimately had to come near to the boat and grab a towel from the extended basket to clear grease off her hands to get the cap situated. I sensed some level of frustration that would be another signal of fatigue. She is also almost 9 hours into the swim so this would make sense. Mark and Lee were quite tense at this moment, being very sympathetic but completely unable to touch Marcia. This 5-minute stop likely added 30 minutes to the overall swim time due to the tidal push. 
 
Marcia:I was really really frustrated with my cap situation, and it was my own damn fault. My cap had ridden up because I hadn’t added water to it initially when I put it on, which cements it to my head. Over time, an air pocket developed and caused the cap to ride up, over my ears. In the interest of protecting my ears and my hearing, I wanted to pull the cap back down but my pincer grip had become so compromised by the water temperature that it was only through great exertion and energy that this seemingly simple task was accomplished. Again, at some point, I hope I am able to forgive myself for this amateur mistake.
 
Lee: The sun is out and the water seems calm. There are not a lot of jellies but the 3-4 foot (1+ meter) rollers pushing south making the strokes a bit more difficult. 
At 2:15PM, 9 Hr 30 Mins we do another feed comprised of an Endurox and an Espresso Hammer gel. Marcia consumed about one quarter of the Endurox all of the gel. Marcia’s face is quite swollen and her speech is starting to slur. There is a bit of dullness to her eyes. Mark and I confer and we both agree that she isn’t getting enough calories and is getting a bit lethargic so we decided to try and get some solids into her system. We also decided to shorten the feed schedule to 20 minutes this time. 
At 2:20PM her stroke rate has dropped to 60 strokes per minute. Its also beginning to become apparent that her stroke is starting to degrade. Strokes are shorter, fingers apart and more of a s curve on the pull and elbow falling. I’m trying to get Marcia’s attention to stretch the stroke but eyes don’t seem to register with what I’m suggesting, and stroke stays the same. 
At 2:35PM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox, a Vanilla Hammer gel 2 fig bars and 2 quarters of a PB&J sandwich. Marcia consumed about one quarter of the chicken broth, all of the gel, was all over the figs and pushed the PB&J away and into the water. 
At 2:45PM, 10 Hr  Marcia’s stroke count was 60 per minute.
 
Marcia:When Mark and Lee realized they had to start getting more into me at more frequent intervals, they went off plan moving to 30-minute feed intervals and introducing solids: ¼ sections of Peanut butter & Jelly Sandwiches, an old effective staple for me. They also offered ¼ pieces of Banana, Hobnobs, and Fig Newtons.  But my mouth was having a hard time chewing and my brain told me not to waste time doing so.  Single Fig Newtons worked well but eating one every 30 minutes for 8 hours ain’t gonna get you across.
 
We had a great bowl that worked well with the solids, so I did one thing right, out of several thousand wrongs, that day. I purchased this Sistema Noodle Bowl (31.78 oz/940 ml), with a clamp down lid (sistemaplastics.com) at The Container Store for about $US10. A rope was tied to the handle for delivery to me, and fishing line was attached to the lid clamps, so the lid wouldn’t float off. The whole thing worked well: though the clamps were a struggle in the last third with my ever-colder hands and fingers not working so well.
 
Lee: At 2:55PM Marcia’s stroke count was 60 per minute. Lee and Mark confer on how much Marcia is eating. They both agree that she needs more fuel and start trying different foods to get her to eat more. 
Mark and the Captain conferred, and Mark told Marcia she has to pick it up or she isn’t going to make it. We need to be near the coast by 7:00 PM or the tide will start working against her in a significant way. It pretty clear now that there is a big degree of risk that a finish may not be possible. I can see the bewilderment on Marcia’s face when she asks Mark how much farther to go and she doesn’t understand why the distance to go doesn’t seem to be decreasing.  Its clear to me that the cold is starting to take more of a toll on her physical abilities and her thinking is getting to be a bit compromised.
 
From this point onwards, Mark is focused on two things: 
1. Marcia’s Safety. 
2. The viability of completing the swim. The swim is brutal at this point, so Mark only wants to continue if there is a chance of Marcia finishing it. 
 
Marcia:Cara told me later that I looked up at Mark with puppy dog eyes, in great confusion, and let out a pleading “Maaaaarrrrrkkkkk?” I knew things were not going well because of my lack of progress but I could hear Liz and Marcy’s voices in my head, “Just keep swimming.” I knew if I stopped to complain or discuss anything, they may pull me. I just kept taking one more stroke, over and over again.
 
Lee: At 3:05PM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox, an Espresso Hammer gel 2 fig bars and 2 quarters of a PB&J sandwich. Marcia consumed about one quarter of the Endurox, all of the gel, both fig bars and again pushed the PB&J away and into the water. We are going to stop with the PB&J and will try bananas with the next feeding and cut feeding time to 30 minutes.
 
At 3:15PM, 10 Hr 30 Min Marcia’s stroke count was 60 per minute.
 
At 3:35PM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox, an Espresso Hammer gel 2Hobnob cookies, our last fig bars and one quarter of a banana. Marcia consumed about one quarter of the Endurox, all of the gel, the fig bar and pushed the Hobnobs away and into the water. The banana seemed to appeal to  her appetite
 
At 3:45PM, 11 Hr Marcia’s stroke count was 58 per minute
Mark an I confer again that she seems lethargic. Obviously, some of the lethargy is due to cold and need for additional calories. I suggested that we pull out the glucose tablets that I brought along. Marcia and I discussed this before the swim about if and when to use them and I told Mark we are getting to that point that we may have to throw everything that we’ve got at her over the next few hours.  We can see the coast pretty clearly, but we don’t seem to be getting any closer.
 
Marcia:Mark couldn’t give me the full rundown on what the heck was happening with the strong, strong tides along the Scottish coast; it would take too much time and I needed every second to swim East, out of the North-South directions in which the tide flowed. Somehow, I knew this, that this explanation could wait. I thought I was doing a whole lot better than I was, both physically and mentally. In fact, I’d have given myself a “fine” rating at the time. 
 
Lee: At 4:40PM, 11 Hr 55 Min we do another feed comprised of an Endurox, a vanilla Hammer gel 2Hobnob cookies, one quarter of a banana and a glucose tablet. Marcia consumed about one quarter of the Endurox, all of the gel, the banana and again pushed the Hobnobs away and into the water. We lost two glucose tablets into the water before we got the third in her mouth. That left us only 7 tablets remaining. 
 
At 5:20PM we do another feed comprised of an Endurox, an Espresso Hammer gel 2 Hobnob cookies, one quarter of a banana and two glucose tablets. Marcia consumed about one quarter of the Endurox, all of the gel, the banana and pushed the Hobnobs away and into the water. 
 
At 6:00PM, 13 Hr 15 Min we do another feed comprised of an Endurox, an Espresso Hammer gel 2Hobnob cookies, one quarter of a banana and two glucose tablets. We also included a Vivarin pill in hope a concentrated shot of caffeine would give her some much needed boost, but Marcia dropped the pill and it floated into her bathing suit. Marcia consumed about one quarter of the Endurox, all of the gel, the banana. Again, no interest in the hobnobs. 
 
Marcia:his was really bad. Lee gave me – or tried to give me – a Vivarin pill, to give me a boost into the finish. Everyone was so hopeful that I’d connect with the Vivarin but I struggled to open the bottle it was in because my hands were cold and lacked normal dexterity. When I finally managed to get it open, it flew out and was gone. I was too out of it to realize the loss. About 50% of the Glucose pills delivered in the same manner had effective landings.
 
Only later did I surmise this situation as “Tune in 30 minutes from now and see how Marcia blows her feeding this time.” Everyone was so optimistic for me and my ability to unknowingly self-sabotage was brutal.
 
The only thing I remember going forward until the finish is occasionally looking up to see the coast of Scotland, which was getting microscopically closer a teeny bit at a time. I just kept on taking one more stroke, and alternatively hearing Marcy & Liz say, “Just keep swimming” and “Yes you can.”
 
Lee: NO MORE LOG ENTRIES FOR LEE FROM HERE ON. JUST FOCUSED ON MARCIA’S CONDITION. THIS WAS WRITTEN SHORTLY AFTER THE SWIM. 
I saw continued degradation in Marcia’s condition over the next couple of hours and it was truly painful to watch the contortions in her face and her lifeless eyes.  With all the study I did on hypothermia before this swim, I felt like we were getting deep into the really serious symptoms that could lead to unconsciousness. On a couple of occasions Mark asked if I was ready to go in if we have to pull her. 
 
I ceased taking stroke counts now as it seems to be useless information. I tried a couple more times but 58 strokes per minute seemed to be the best Marcia could muster. I stationed myself in the aft part of the boat so I could watch Marcia more closely. Mark stationed himself right outside the Captain’s position so he could continually confer on pace and progress. At this point in time I am truly concerned (maybe scared shitless is better description) about Marcia’s health and the risk that she loses consciousness and whether we can get to her in time. I’m nauseous.  I’m also recalling the number of swimmers that I read about being pulled even though they were just short of completion. 
Mark was in constant discussion with Captain Quinton as we continued, constantly eyeing the speed of the boat, which ranged from 0.8 to 1.8 mph. As it started settling around 1.0 mph, Mark started conferring on possible landing points and the up-to-the-minute currents. These briefing became continuous for the final 3 miles into the finish. The exact distance and possible finishing spots on the craggy Scottish coast kept changing because of the tidal push and the currents. Mark was deeply concerned about Marcia’s health and safety too, watching her closely.  He was deeply panged at her apparently agony but also amazed at her grit. On several occasions John came up from behind me and asked how long we were going to wait before we pulled her out of the water. He said he doesn’t look good and I’m concerned for her life. I told him that I didn’t disagree but that Mark, Marcia and Lee had this discussion and we all concluded that Mark was the final decision maker and whatever he said we all would live or die with.  
 
Once the Captain concluded he could no longer take the boat any closer to the shore Mark indicated that the Captain was concerned about her ability to navigate in without the guidance of the boat. Mark asked if I was willing to go in and escort her to shore. I indicated that I would be more than willing to do so. He asked if I would go speak with the captain. Captain Nelson told me I need to go in now, so I got my swim cap googles and swim suit on. The observer said that I could not touch Marcia nor could I swim in front of her.
 
I jumped in feet first and the cold of the water was shocking. I couldn’t imagine being in this water for more than a few minutes much less hours like Marcia. I swam back to Marcia and circled around behind her and settled in a few feet off her right side. When we first locked eyes she had no idea, it was me. I said, “Marcia, it’s Lee I’m going to guide you in. Just swim beside me.”  It was another minute or so before it registered with her. Her response was, “Lee!” I did sense some level of relief in her face. I repeated instructions to her again and I think she comprehended what we were going to do. I started to guide her around the back of the boat as that was the direction where I saw some beach area. As we were going that way Mark and the crew kept yelling and pointing toward the rocks on the edge of the cliff as it was a shorter distance. Based on my assessment of Marcia’s condition I thought that it was too dangerous to try to get her to stand up on the sharp rocks and raise her hand. Instead I though the beach was the better alternative in as much as she could crab crawl up on land. I told Marcia swim with me and the current will help push us in.
 
About 100 yards from shore a big barrel jelly fish of orange hue and about 18 inches in width came up between us. Not sure how it didn’t get one or both of us but thought it was a good sign. I’ll admit I was scared as Marcia’s eyes were lifeless and she wasn’t responding to me verbally but seem to grasp swimming along with me. I wasn’t sure that if she stopped swimming and was in danger of drowning that I could hold on to her given with the amount of grease that was still underneath her arms and back. I was trying to figure out if I could get my hand through a part of her bathing suit that maybe I could hold on that way. 
 
Marcia:Lee told me he had been swimming alongside me for about 10 minutes before I realized his presence; I don’t doubt this. Whatever he was telling me, I wasn’t processing.  The only thing I remember was the beach before us, to finish where there is no water in front of me.  He says he was telling me, “Stand up!” because we were in waist–deep water; his words didn’t register at all. Finally, I hit the beach and clawed my way up the shore. I was relieved that I had made it. I can only imagine the relief that came to everyone on the boat.
 
Being on the beach was surreal in the sense that I wasn’t thinking clearly, a very unusual state for me. There was Lee. We high-fived but there was no jumping up and down celebration – it didn’t occur to me to do this. The notion of raising my arms in triumph was also completely lost. Rather, I was relieved that I didn’t have to swim anymore and that I had made it.  By this time, I had rolled onto my backside from all fours, and was looking out at the boat, thinking, “Well, I guess I’ll have to swim back.” Then Lee was talking to some guy with a kayak who magically appeared out of nowhere. As we would find out later, Keith Carman, was vacationing in one of the two summer cottages on this beach with his two children and they watched us slowly make our way towards the beach. He saw the boat was registered in Belfast and put two and two together. He told me that his first question to me was, “Are you mad?” to which I didn’t respond because I didn’t either hear or understand the question; I have no recollection of the conversation, but I do remember that there were a few kids running around.  I do remember Lee and Keith sliding me onto the kayak to the left and then my memory goes dark until I am on the boat in the lower cabin. Apparently, it took four of them to get me on the boat – three from above and Keith pushing from below. Even though I was in a hypothermic state when I finished, I was still generating heat by swimming. When this heat-producing activity ended, my body temperature probably plummeted at a faster rate, hence my lack of memory. 
 
Just in case you are worrying, I was never close to dying, such as lungs filling with water, having a seizure or heart attack, or unconscious from hypothermia. I was definitely in distress, but I had an extremely astute crew, boat pilot, and observer who cared for me before/during/and after my swim. I was just in a state of complete exertion and exhaustion, having had just enough to get me to the finish.
 
Congratulations! WOW
Lee: As we got closer I could feel a strong push by the current and only then did I feel that we were going to get Marcia up on the beach. As I touched the bottom of the sand I told Marcia to not stand but just crawl up on the beach and sit down. She did just that and we were done. Job well done, you did it. You conquered the North Channel swim. A high 5 and a hug between us then back to the task of me figuring out how to get us back to the boat. It was 7:49PM in Scotland.
 
At that time a Scottish man appeared from the other side of the rocks to our right and said, “I assume yah started out this morning from Ireland.” I said, “Yes, she did.” He said, “I’ve got a kayak on the other side of thah rocks – if you would you like for me to pull around and take her back to the boat I’d gladly do it.” I said, “Please sir.” It was an open kayak so it was perfect for the task at hand. Marcia tried to stand but she fell over so we just scooted her on her butt over into the kayak. A little push out the water and Marcia was on her way to safety. God bless the Scotsman for being in the right place at the right time. 
 
Marcia:We landed in Morroch Bay (“MA-roo” Bay), just south of Portpatrick. The only thing I remember is that there had been a white house on the far north side of the beach and some pale-colored structure in front of where I landed.  I remember crawling up on all fours, rolling over, and seeing the boat about 400 yards off shore, and knew I’d need to swim back to it since that is what I had always done before…. 
 
Lee said I tried to stand up and proceeded to fall over. I remember only relief that I was done, not the ecstatic joy I felt on finishing so many other swims. 
 
Out of nowhere appeared a man whom had been tracking us coming in.  Using binoculars, he saw that the boat was registered in Belfast and put two and two together. As previously mentioned, this man, Keith Carman, would tell me that his first question to me was, “Are you mad?” to which I had no understanding or response. Lee asked him if he could help us, since Lee was going to have a lot of trouble getting me back to the boat by himself.  Keith had an open top kayak and gladly offered his services. They maneuvered the kayak next to me, tipped it down and slid me on top of it. I have only the vaguest notion of this happening.  I have no recollection of being ferried back to the boat. Nor do I remember that it took 4 people to get me off the kayak, onto the boat, and down into the lower cabin. Somewhere in there, they used several old towels to wipe off whatever was left of my grease – a fair amount.  The next thing I remember is Mark and Cara pulling my suit off and getting me into dry clothes, and blankets being stacked on top of me. I am told that Cara was rubbing my feet and legs for a long time in an attempt to warm me up and that I wanted Mark to sit next to me (on the 2’ wide bench) so we could “cuddle.”  That was not going to happen…
 
Lee: By the time I had swam back to the boat Marcia had been moved up on deck and wrapped in blankets and a thermal wrap. Since John had training in First Aid, he took the lead but there was no shortage of help from Cara, Ross, and Mark. Given that we had a 3-hour boat trip ahead of us back to Ireland, it was important to get Marcia moved into the lower cabin when she could warm up. After Marcia was relocated, more blankets and hugs from Mark were applied. 
 
John came over to me in the other cabin and told me that he was quite concerned and that we should be prepared to take Marcia to the hospital as soon as we dock. I told him we would. About an hour later he told me that good progress had been made getting her core warmed up but a visit to the hospital might still be prudent course. By the time we docked Marcia seemed to be back among the living and that gave us the confidence that the healing process had begun.
 
Marcia: I do remember mentally coming to when I was in the lower cabin. Mark said Cara had been rubbing my feet and legs for a while, and I started to tune in during this process. None of the challenges of how difficult my swim had been coming up yet; they were all simply concerned that I was ok. The trip back seemed to go quickly – probably because it was a while before I was coherent – but all of a sudden, we were back in Donaghadee Harbor and getting ready to unload. During the last few minutes of the trip, we had even made dinner plans for tomorrow night at Pier 36 with the boat crew and Cara!  I walked off the boat under my own power and up the stairs to the road. While the crew brought all our gear off the boat (my offer to help was ignored), I told Mark that I was going to walk the short distance to Pier 36 and let Lewis know I had made it. With help, I quickly found him inside the crowded restaurant and he was jubilant at my success.  He wanted to know if I wanted to sign the wall, “No, that privilege will have to wait until tomorrow” but he did offer, and I accepted, a cup of hot chocolate. It tasted great.