Just You Wait

 

The English Channel is one of - if not the - most iconic open water marathon swims in the world. Its difficulty lies in the cold water (around 60F), the unpredictable weather, and the strong tides. It is also difficult to plan! Most swimmers have to book a spot with their pilot two to three years out. 

 

When I booked my English Channel spot, I was young, scrappy, and hungry. And yes, Hamilton was my soundtrack. I’d finished my college water polo career, which left a hole in my heart I didn’t know how to fill. I graduated from college, and — much to my surprise — I managed to get into Stanford to earn my Masters degree. In the few months before I started my program, I knew I had to find a new passion. If I had learned anything about myself up to that point, it was that I would never be satisfied with a life lacking challenge. I had really enjoyed the few Alcatraz swims that I had done with my sisters, and I looked into other swims you could do in the San Francisco Bay. I set a goal to swim from the Golden Gate Bridge to the Bay Bridge in 2018. At the time, it was a huge deal for me. I trained hard and participated in multiple smaller swims leading up to it. The big day came, and I completed it…and I felt nothing. It was upsettingly anticlimactic. I was not satisfied. 

 

So, instead of signing up for a swim that was a step up from Bridge to Bridge — the rational move in the minds of most - I decided that I would swim the English Channel. I started to email pilots about a swim slot for 2020, and I was able to secure one with Andy and James King on the Louise Jane. 

 

I joined the Dolphin Club and connected with more experienced swimmers who were also training for channels. I learned as I went and faked the rest. “Fake it until you make it” became my motto — inspired by my previous coach Mark Hernandez’s mantra: “Can you just pretend to be an athlete for five seconds?”. Whenever I doubted myself as a Stanford student, a student-teacher, a coach, or a swimmer, I fell back on that. You don’t have to know what you are doing, just pretend like it, and soon enough you won’t be pretending anymore. It gave me the confidence I needed to be bold during a time in my life when I never felt satisfied. 

 

When 2020 rolled around, I wasn’t faking it with my swimming anymore. I knew what I was doing, and I was more than ready to finally become a channel swimmer. It was my first year of teaching and running my own water polo program, so I was still figuring those things out, but I was beginning to make it more than fake it. Every teaching day was an absolute grind, and swimming was the one thing I felt truly confident in. Thinking about my English Channel attempt was my daydream. I thought about it while driving to and from work. I thought about it during my free period at school. I thought about it before I closed my eyes in my bed at night, and it was the first thing I thought about every morning. It was literally my reason for getting out of bed, as I trained before school.

 

And then the world turned upside down. 

 

I was in denial about how it would affect my channel attempt for a long time, even though deep down I knew. I refused to think about canceling my swim. Instead, I kept on training and kept up to date on case rates and travel restrictions. I swam connected to a tether in a blow-up pool in my backyard. I did my six hour qualifier inside Aquatic Park mostly alone. When my original date came and went while the borders were closed, I rescheduled for later in the summer. I ultimately needed to put off actually canceling for as long as I could in order to get through it mentally. It was about the swim, but it also wasn’t. This was how I was coping with the collective trauma the world was experiencing. I had to keep going because stopping was unthinkable. I had to keep hoping because stopping was unbearable. Cue Wait for It. 

 

When I finally had to cancel my swim I was heartbroken, but I was also thankful for the purpose it had given me during a tumultuous time. In fact, I had already altered course to a new dream - the North Channel. It scared me as it had the reputation of being harder than the English Channel and fewer people had completed it — thousands fewer. The English Channel, which once had meant so much, faded into the background as I moved on. I swam the North Channel. I swam the Catalina Channel. Only then would I find my way back to the one that got away. Rewind.

 

My Shot

 

I was the #3 swimmer in my tide window, which meant two other athletes had priority to swim before me. When the weather started looking very blustery with few breaks in the wind, I began to get nervous that I might never even get my shot. But as luck would have it, the #2 swimmer dropped out and I moved up in the queue. I finally got the call to go ahead with just 2 days left in my window.

 

We met at Dover Harbor at 5:00am on the morning of June 23rd. We quickly loaded the boat, had our passports inspected by border patrol, and then we were off. As we motored out of the harbor, my pilot pulled us up next to another boat with a swimmer on it — my friend Rocio! Rocio was looking to be the first Costa Rican to swim the channel. I had met her when she came to San Francisco to train, and we swam in Dover Harbor together the previous day. We got to yell good luck to each other, and we said we would see each other in France. It was a gift to be able to see her before we both began our crossings. We continued to Samphire Hoe Beach, where we stopped so I could lather up in sunscreen and vaseline. I jumped off the boat to swim to the beach leaving a sheening trail of oil behind me. Once on the beach, I searched for a nice rock to accompany me on my swim. I chose a white one that would remind me of the stunning white cliffs of Dover. With a deep breath, a glance at the channel ahead of me, and a reminder to myself that it will be hard but worth it, I slipped into the English Channel.

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I focused on feeding quickly so I could get out to a great start. I was succeeding and keeping a solid pace. At about two hours in, though, I was asked to pick it up. My crew requested 30 minutes of hard swimming followed by 30 minutes of my regular pace. I was a little concerned about why they were asking me to pick it up so early on, but I tried not to think about it too much. I did my best to continue the pattern, but after a few hours my “fast” stints could not be differentiated from my regular pace. At around 5 hours, my crew explained to me that the reason why they were asking me to swim harder was because my pilot thought that we could land at Cap Gris-Nez on the first pass. We could do just one wide arc instead of an S-shape. I knew that meant a much faster swim, so I got excited. I was able to continue the higher pace for a little longer, but I fell off again within 90 minutes. 

 

At about 7 hours in, my crew informed me that Rocio was only 2 miles ahead of me and she was also trying to make the first pass at the Cap. I was motivated by this news because it reminded me that my friend was out there with me even though I couldn’t see her. I was also excited because Rocio is much faster than me, and if I was only 2 miles behind her at that point, I was doing well! 

 

The wind began to pick at 9 hours, and it tossed me around a bit. While it wasn’t too bad compared to the many large swells I have battled in San Francisco Bay, it definitely slowed me down. My pilot decided to move the boat to the other side of me to try and block some of the swell, and that helped my speed immensely. I covered a lot of distance between hours nine and ten with a good pace and fast current behind me. Unfortunately that current would not be enough to get me to the Cap.

 

At 12 hours, I was 2.5 miles away from Cap Gris-Nez. It was close, and it looked like I could just swim right in. I am experienced enough at this point to know that looks are deceiving, though. Between hour 12 and 13 the third tide kicked in, and I had to fight it to make sure I wouldn’t get swept too far north. At that point, my crew knew definitively that hope of hitting the Cap was lost. At 13 hours, I was just 1 mile away from the Cap, but I wasn’t going to make it there. While no one told me that the plan had changed, I knew by the fact that the land was actually getting farther away. I tried not to look ahead to France during my feeds. Rather, I focused on the boat and the messages my crew were giving to me. The hours of swimming above my channel pace were catching up to me, and I was tired. My feeds got slower, even though my captain tried to rush me along. I felt thirsty, so I switched to plain water. This of course left me hungry, so I asked for bars that are more substantial but take longer to chew. I tried to chew while swimming. I don’t recommend it. 

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My dad began to cheer me on, and they wanted me to pick up the pace. I thought it was crucial for me to do so, as there are many swimmers who fail only 1 mile away from shore because they get swept by the tide. I could not throw away my shot, and I gave it everything I had. At 14 hours, I finally knew I would make it. The land was close, and I could feel the water change. It turns out I actually wasn’t in danger of failing like I thought — had already done the work to put myself into a good position. All the same, the fear got me to the shore faster.

 

When I saw one of the crew, Toby, crawl into the dinghy, I got excited. At my feed I was informed that it would be my last. Those are the sweet words I had been waiting for. Soon, the boat stopped and I was instructed to follow Toby into shore. As we got closer, I realized that the beach was blocked by a wall of wooden pilings. They were so close together that there was no way I was going to get through them. I wanted so badly to swim right in, but Toby had to take me parallel to the shore for a few minutes in order to find me an opening where I could walk through the pilings onto the beach. The swim could not be over until I completely cleared the water. For a brief moment I imagined trying my luck and climbing over one of the damn things, but then Toby found me a spot. I saw the opening and finally my goal was only a moment away instead of an ocean away. I put my feet down to walk through the two pilings and up to the beach. I jogged out of the water to the applause of a family who was taking a sunset walk. They took photos of me and asked me where I was from. As I briefly spoke with them, a beautiful seashell caught my eye in the sand at my feet, and I grabbed it. I said to them, “I hope you don’t mind”, as I showed them the shell and then tucked it into my suit. I gave them my name so they could send me the photos of my finish, and then I crawled back into the sea from whence I came. 

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Swimming the channel had been hard, but getting back into the dinghy was a different story. I was in water up to my chest, and pushing off the sand and pulling myself up and over the side of the dinghy took a few tries and more than a few leg kicks and caterpillar wiggles. True to myself, I sliced open my finger somehow in the process and proceeded to bleed all over myself. When Toby motored me back to the boat, however, you bet I was smiling from ear to ear. 

 

After hugs, rinsing off, and getting into warm clothes, I looked back at a fading France one last time. I turned to Michael and said, “It took me 4 years and 15 hours, but I finally fucking swam the English Channel”. 

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Who Tells Your Story

 

Marathon swimming is a team sport, and my success is dependent on so many. As always, my wonderful pod keeps training fun, and they are the reason why I love swimming. Randy Edwards, Luca Pozzi, Lauren Au Brinkmeyer, Ariana Wohlstattar, and Keira Koss-Baker kept me going! 

 

Sylvia and Brian at Pacific Swim Co. excellently piloted many training swims for me, and I am grateful for their friendship. When I was nervous about not getting the chance to swim, Sylvia was the first one I called. While she didn’t lie to me about the weather looking poor, I just immediately felt better after speaking with her.

 

It was awesome to know Rocio was fighting her own battle against the channel at the same time I was. She did, in fact, become the first Costa Rican to swim the English Channel. History had its eyes on her that day. 

 

My crew on the Louise Jane, piloted by Andy King, was excellent. They were fun, professional, and kept me safe! And my personal crew, my mom, dad, and Michael, were great. They kept me positive, took good notes, cheered me on, read me messages, texted my friends and family, and handled my feeds and requests like pros (which they are at this point). I am very grateful to have such supportive people behind me.