30 years ago tomorrow , I walked up onto a beach after spending 14 hours and 53 minutes in the Catalina channel. These were the final steps as I completed my goal of swimming butterfly across some of the most challenging open water swims in the world in one summer.

Most of the time, when people speak to me about my open water swims, they remember the successful swims. This summer of swims was a success, but the Catalina Channel remains one of the swims that taught me how to push through failure to achieve a goal.

The butterfly summer started with an attempt of the Cook Strait in New Zealand. Although this swim wasn’t successful, I was going strong when 2 of the 3 boats travelling with me broke down. I wasn’t allowed to continue, but was confident that I would’ve touched the far shore had the situation been different. I was scheduled to swim a circumnavigation of Sydney Harbour in Australia a few days later so was unable to make a second attempt of the Cook Strait at that time.

The circumnavigation of Sydney Harbour went smoothly. The organizing committee in Australia had determined it was necessary for me to use a shark cage because of the very real risk of the presence of sharks. I started off in the cage, but didn’t stay in it long, as I could feel my fingers dragging up either side of the cage with every stroke I took. It was like swimming in a cheese grater. About an hour into the swim, somebody jumped in the water and pushed the back of the shark cage down. I swam out of the cage and completed the swim without the protection that the cage offered.

I went on to swim across the English Channel butterfly, becoming the first person to do so. https://vickikeith.wordpress.com/2014/07/10/butterflying-the-english-channel-2/ From there I headed to the Catalina Channel in California.

I climbed into the Catalina Channel with no concerns. After what I had already faced, I didn’t psych myself appropriately for the the 22 mile swim.

I swam throughout the day, and into the night with no concerns. At about 2 o’clock in the morning my crew members came over to me. I wasn’t making a lot of progress at that point and we were in the middle of a shipping lane that was known to be frequented by sharks. At any other moment, I would’ve readjusted my mind, picked up my pace and pushed forward. But at the moment they spoke to me, I was at my emotional lowest and instead of fighting, I agreed with them to abort the swim. The instant my hand touched the boat, I knew I made a mistake, but it was too late.

I curled up into a ball on the bunk of the boat, and started questioning my whole existence as a marathon swimmer. I wallowed in self-pity and struggled with my future. At that moment in time, I felt that every open water swim I had completed was a fluke, and that I’d been fooling myself. I talked myself into believing that I didn’t have what it took to be an open water swimmer.

All night long, I lay in my bunk, miserable and questioning my skills and abilities. By morning, I had convinced myself that my fundamental belief that anything is possible was wrong and that I should just accept that and go home. However, I couldn’t say that out loud.

I couldn’t say “some things are impossible”, especially to the young people with disabilities from Variety Village and Variety Clubs international whom I was swimming to support. I realized that if I couldn’t say it out loud, that I had to take action, so I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, refocused my brain, and started working towards my next swim.

In just 2 weeks I was in the Juan De Fuca – one of the most challenging open water swims of my swimming career. The water temperature ranged between 7 and 10°C with life expectancy averaging an hour and a half before succumbing to severe hypothermia.

For more information on this one check out my blog “2° Above Death”. https://vickikeith.wordpress.com/2014/08/10/2-degrees-above-death/

After completing the Juan De Fuca, I went on to swim butterfly across Lake Winnipeg and Lake Ontario. That was to be the end of the butterfly summer, but the unsuccessful crossing of the Catalina Channel continued to eat at me.

Thankfully my sponsors were on board and were willing to help me return to California.

I will never forget the beginning of this swim. It was pitch dark. There was 800 m of kelp floating on the surface of the water that I had to swim through before I hit clear water. I swam butterfly through the thick vegetation feeling the sharp edges drag along my skin and imagined sharp teeth, and claws digging into me.

Finally, I broke through the kelp. I was in the clear, but the heebie-jeebies of swimming through the kelp stayed with me, and transferred into a belief that there was a shark about to attack. For 2 hours, all I could think about was the feeling of teeth sinking into my body. Then one of my crew members called to me for my first feeding. I was terrified to stop but had no choice. Once I stopped however, I was able to calm my fears and come back to reality. When my feeding was complete, I was able to put my face back in the water and begin to swim with more confidence.

I continued swimming throughout the night. At sun rise, I could not see the far shore. At noon, the view hadn’t changed and I believed I was moving at a snails pace. At 2:00pm, I could still see only sky melting into water and began to wonder again if I had what it took to complete my goal.

As I regrouped, refocused and prepared myself for an exceedingly long swim, the fog that had enveloped me lifted and I could see people standing on the beach less than a mile away. I swam that last mile with pure wonder as I moved from believing I had hours ahead of me to the realization that I had mere strokes before touching dry land.

That feeling of complete and utter relief of seeing the beach, is always with me, and every time I feel stuck in one of life’s seemingly endless downward spirals, I think of the fog lifting and the beach appearing.

I am often awed by the comparison of an ultra distance marathon and life experiences. Over and over, as I have struggled to find a solution to a challenge, I am brought back to my time in the water and how pushing through adversity and emotionally weak moments has helped me see the bigger picture. I now understand that when everything seems to be falling apart, if I keep moving forward, the view will change, the emotional plateau will lift and I will see the goal more clearly and within grasp.

I found this log in my files and transferred it into word:

Log of Channel Swim by Vicki Keith, Canada, on 10th and 11th of July 1989.

02.21 Mike stickler and I arrive at the pontoon, Dover Harbour, to see Barry and Leslie Darling and their crew and helpers – see report form – already on board “Harbinger“ with “Andante“ in attendance with Bob Brown and skipper and Ron Solly as pilot. Introductions all around and Leslie leaves to see the children off for the day at 02.21

02.29 Leave the Crosswall Pontoon to make for Shakespeare beach, no wind and visibility 20 miles – we can just make out Cap Blanc Nez on the other side of the Channel.

02. 56 arrive to some 50 yards off the beach, but no Sign of Vicki and her entourage. Ron sweeps the Cliffs with the Searchlight but no-one about yet. Here from “Andante” that Vicki’s taxi has just left the hotel. Don K. rows ashore.

02. 58 Someone coming down the steps to the beach – it’s Vicki, she strips off and puts on some Vaseline. Some 8 persons with her and we see a few flashbulbs telling us that there will be a few photographs.

03.15 Vicki takes off. Slight breeze now, Force 1, Water temperature 61°F., Quite good for this time of year and at this hour. Mike and I take a careful watch of Vicki’s butterfly stroke – I’m a bit sceptical that the Channel can be done with this stroke, but Vicki’s is perfect at 29 strokes per minute. Don and Craig re-join “Andante” with Vicki’s bag. Cap Gris Nez light is clearly visible.

03.49 Stroke rate now 27 per minute. Now level with the Western Entrance, so 1 mile covered in 35 minutes. Visibility excellent – lights on Channel Tunnel works on the French side clearly visible. 3 yachts cross our bow going west. Wind freshening.

04.15 Wind increasing to force 2. Risings swell now that we are out of the shelter of the Harbour Wall. Vicki still going well. Two Ferries to port, one in and one out of the harbour. Light improving, cloudy sky. Channel tunnel workings now clearly visible behind Shakespeare Cliff, behind us.

04.23 Vicki now doing 28 strokes per minute and is certainly moving well. Varne Lightship’s red light showing up on our starboard bow, while the south Goodwins lightship is getting more on to our port beam. Now quite light and we’re still rolling, but the sea is flattening out now that we are away from the Harbour.

04.28 A dredger crosses our bow on its way to the Goodwins.

04. 45 “Princess Mary Eseralda” from Ostend and passes us to port for the harbour. Gradually getting abeam of the S. G. L. S. Vicki is still going well at 28 strokes per minute as evidenced by the fact that we’re now well to the east of the Harbour and Saint Margaret’s Bay is now some 1 1/2 miles north east of us and off the South Foreland Lighthouse.

05. 06 Craig and Don come across from Andante to prepare Vicki’s first feed.

05.16 Trainferry crosses our bow making for Dunkirk. S.G.L.S. now a beam some 2 1/2 miles.

05.27 Dons 1 and 2 with Craig go in the zodiac to feed Vicki. The milk used for her hot chocolate was sour so she drank only a taste and asked for water. There after the hot chocolate was made only from water. Now due south of Saint Margaret’s and getting nearer to the S.G.L.S. with about 2 hours of the flood left. Wind hardly force 2, north east.

05. 51 Vicki stopped to have a drink of water – feeding arrangements in the hands of Don, Donald and Craig. Vicki not making much progress – still only 2.7 miles out from St. Margaret’s

05.56 First signs of the sun through the eastern clouds give a little more warmth.

06.13 Bulk carrier crosses our bow going west. We’re now seeing the port side of the S.G.L.S. 2 miles.

06.30 Stroke rate now 28 per minute. Two container ships cross our bow going west. The S.G.L.S. and St. Margaret’s Bay are now in a line to our north as we passed south of S.G.L.S. 1/2 mile.

06.35 Mike and I have a talk and agree, having consulted Barry, that this swim could, having regard to Vicki’s reputation, continue for over 20 hours, so we decided that we should take it in turns to have a break to ensure that a proper watch is maintained at all times. I therefore go down for a snooze – we had no sleep at all last night.

06.52 Tide slackening and some progress is being made. A Dover Coast Guard broadcast warns all shipping to give us a wide berth. Sea still calm, sky still overcast, stroke 28 per minute.

07.14 Very slow progress as the tide pushes east though the tide is not as strong as a couple of hours ago.

07.25 Sea temperature still 61°.

07.50 Stroke rate 27 per minute.

08.09 Third feed of hot water and chocolate drink, takes two minutes. 65 seconds.

08.27 M.V. “Shell Explorer” crossed our bow port to starboard. Sky still overcast and sea choppy, but wind has died down.

08.29M. V. “Maersk Harrier” crossed our bow port to starboard.

08.44 stroke 28 per minute, see temperature 61°. Tide now slack, Vicki in good cheer; she has been laughing and joking during feed stops and even exchanged insults with the boys.

08. 45 I wake up and take over from Mike who goes below for his bit of shut-eye. We don’t seem to have made much distance in my 2 hours 10 minutes below – some 2 miles further south. Wind has freshened – our flag is now blowing straight out instead of its limp stance when I turned in. The C.S. 4 buoy is now about 1 mile north east of us and the M.P.C. 3 miles south south east. Vicki’s stroke now 25 per minute. The Richmond power station stands out very clearly north north east of us and we are well into the SW Shipping Lane and about 7 1/2 miles from the coast.

09.11 Tanker RHS – UK – LINGS goes astern of us to the west. Wind still north east, air temperature 63°.

09.20 A small oil spill from the air-hole of our diesel tank make straight for Vicki and I ask her to move out some 5 yards to miss it. She then swims into a lump of seaweed which gives her a bit of a shock!

09.23 Car carrier “Noble Ace”, empty by the position of its water line, goes astern. Still no sign of the sun.

09.40 French coast now clearly visible, Blanc Nez due ahead. Vicki still seems quite lively; 2 1/2 miles from the M.P. C. Buoy, south east, 12 1/2 miles from Blanc Nez, due south.

09.52 Ron serves Barry and me with very welcome cups of tea and coffee. Jet – foil screams past us to Ostend.

10.10 Sun at last makes an appearance, but is still hidden by scattered clouds, but that is clearing in the west. Vicki still doing 25 strokes per minute. Now in the separation zone.

10.15 Air temperature now 71°, water 62°. Feed time again, as before; Vicki still very cheerful. Mike returns to the vigil.

10.35 Stroke rate now up to 26 per minute.

10.50 Sun now quite clear of the clouds and really hot, air temperature 88°. We all stripped down to essentials.

11.10 A few bits of seaweed again but Vicki misses them. M.P.C. Buoy now a beam of us. No wind.

11.15 First jellyfish and Vicki only just missed it.

11.17 Two fairies, one on each side of us, make for Dover.

11.20 Vicki is stung on the upper arm and Mike and I now take up the jellyfish watch – I give my ear piercing whistle and we then direct her to go left or right.

11.29 Hovercraft over takes us to port. The jellyfish seem to have spurred Vicki on as her stroke is now 28 per minute.

11.40 Air temperature 80°, stroke rate now 29, sea temperature 62°, slight haze but good visibility. Vicki amazes me with the way she keeps up this butterfly stroke, which seems to me to have been invented to slow one down, at least over a distance like crossing the Channel. She is now done over 8 hours and looks set to do as many as it takes to reach the other side!

11.46 Hovercraft from Calais will cross our bow by 100 yards.

11.56 Bob on Andante reports a “green air” message: “You are welcome!” From the French coast guards. I hope it’s a result of our friendly liaison with them over the years.

12.05 Vicki seems to be making more progress; she’s back to 27 strokes per minute but the strokes seem stronger and I note that the boat is in gear for longer periods.

12.15 Feed time again, and same fare as before plus 2 small chocolate bars. We now have an almost clear sky with a very hot sun. Stroke now 26 strokes per minute 9 hours now passed and we’re some10 miles from Cap Blanc Nez, but that could will mean we have more than 20 miles to go before we make landfall.

12.27 Pride of Calais overtakes us to starboard, going very slowly – perhaps they have heard that we have Vicki as our swimmer. However the passengers will be unable to see her as she swims to port. The ship gives us quite a wide roll but Vicki ploughs on regardless. Barry tells us that we are now about halfway over as the crow flies.

12.35 Now a bit more cloud cover and above a force 1 wind.

12.41 Dover Coast Guard give our position to all shipping as 087° 4.7 miles from the Varne Lightship.

12.50 Craig feels sick and feed the fish.

13.15 Stroke rate now 25 per minute and it seems a little weaker. Vicki is not lifting her arms quite clear of the water when she brings them forward to begin each stroke. It doesn’t look as though we shall be off the Cape Gris Nez at the end of the ebb. Water temperature now 62°. A flatter sea and fewer jellyfish.

13.39 M. V. Vela crosses our bow going east.

13.42 Coast guard again gives our position – actually there is very little shipping in our sites just now.

14.01 Feed time again, as before. Vicki still in excellent spirits and exchanges some banter with Craig.

14.15 Vicki stops to adjust and clean her goggles – she hates it when she can’t see everything – her vivacity shows no slackening. No wind now and very little ebb left but we are still some 5 miles from Gris Nez.

14.42 Coast guard gives us 6.1 miles from Gris Nez.

14.50 We are enjoying a very tranquil scene; I’m sitting on the port side of the boat and can see only four ships over a very wide area – 6 miles to the coast and certainly 20+ in length, barely a breath of wind – just a minimal effect on a flat sea. French coast from Gris Nez to Sangatte clearly visible. The boat rolls as if it is asleep and the only sound is Vicki’s powerful thrust against the water. I just don’t know how she keeps it up – so far she has never asked: “How far to go?“ “What time is it?“ “How far have we come?“ So come Channel Swimming and leave all your cares behind!?

15.00 The ebb should be finished now and with the at least 5 1/2 miles due south we’ll soon be off east on the flood tide again toward Calais. There should be some half hour of slack water to give Vicki a chance to reduce the distance. We now have a warship crossing our bow eastwards to remind us of man’s inhumanity to man, and disturb my reverie.

15.04 No jellyfish for the past 2 – 3 hours so we have relaxed our lookout.

15.15 Stroke rate 26 per minute, see temperature 61°

15.25 Only one ship visible now, a grain-carrier crossing our peaceful scene. With Wissant and Gris Nez are dragged nearer to us by the amazing resilience and determination of Vicki, and she’s still as cheerful as a cricket!

15.35 A Russian tanker crosses us at 120 yards going east. Sun now almost entirely hidden by clouds.

15.44 Feed time again, as before; this was the longest stop, 6 minutes 37 seconds. Stroke rate 26 on restart.

15.54 Stroke rate 26 per minute. Sea very calm. Vicki still in great spirits and showing no sign of fatigue.

16.10 As I’m sure that we shall still be here until well after midnight, and one of us must be always alert, Mike agrees that I go down for a snooze.

16.15 Sea temperature 61°. Ron describes the wind as “light variable airs.”

17.02 M.V. Adelaide Express, a container vessel passes across our bow going east. Stroke rate 27 per minute.

17.30 A container vessel (unable to see name] crosses our bow some distance away. The wind is freshening, changing from east to west. Sun shining again and the sea calm so far. Vicki still seems to be enjoying it all, laughing and joking. Flood tide now beginning to push us along the coast toward Calais. Our position is approximately 5 miles off the French coast at Cap Gris Nez.

17.35 I surface again to find that we’re still some 4 1/2 miles offshore with a complete turn round of the wind, now a force 2/3 with bright sunlight making Cap Blanc Nez stand out vividly 5 miles off. Mike goes below for his turn of shut eye. Afraid I didn’t sleep – too much draught inside cooled me off.

17.56 Vicki still doing 25 strokes per minute. A grain -carrier crosses our bow quite close – 60 yards while another does ditto a stern 3/4 mile off.

18.00 Feed time again, as before. Vicki still as bright as ever and always in the mood for a joke; she resumes the swim at 26 strokes per minute.

18.18 Vicki stops again to clear her goggles.

18.30 Wind still rising and now about a force 3, South West – a right turn about since this morning. A large container ship Amazone goes by close astern. It is the huge bow wave of the passing ships that continuously break up the rhythm of the swimmers stroke, and of course make us hold on tight in the boat.

18.48 Mike surfaces and resumes his contribution to this log. P&O Ferry overtakes us to port, with a crowd of passengers at the rails trying to have a first-hand observation of a Channel Swimmer. Unfortunately for them, Vicki is now swimming in the lee of the boat following the change of wind direction, so cannot be seen by anyone on the ferry. Andante is giving some protection from the sea by keeping to the lee of Vicki who is still getting along at 26 strokes per minute. We have about an hour before the end of the flood. We are getting in towards the shore, Barry calculates we’re 4 miles off, but of course the configuration of the coastline itself alters that considerably. We’re now north of Wissant and the English coast is quite obliterated by the mist.

19.15 Sea temperature now 61°.

19.18 Sea link St Christopher overtakes us to starboard on her way to Calais. Vicki now doing 25 strokes per minute. She varies very little over the whole distance so far. She stops to clear her goggles yet again and has a few words with Barry.

19.31 Wind speed abating a bit. Sea link St Anslem out of Calais meets us on her way to Folkestone. Barry asks Vicki to increase her pace a bit to make the most of the remaining flood tide; she puts it up to 26 strokes per minute and makes a deeper stroke which is noticeably puts up her pace. Vicki has certainly not lost any of her enthusiasm for this adventure.

19.51 Now 3 miles off the coast as the crow flies. Vicki has a lot to do now to get us as close as possible to the coast to avoid our having to go all the way back to Cap Gris Nez when the ebb comes again – she certainly will not make a landfall on the present flood.

20.00 Feed time yet again, and this time Vicki has three bars of chocolate. Barry gives Vicki a pep-talk to explain the problems of the Ebb-tide which will soon be with us.

20.15 Stroke rate down to 24, sea temperature 61°, wind now force 4. Fortunately the effect of the rising wind will be tempered by the fact that it is now offshore, in other words the land will more and more protect us from the rising wind and it’s consequent waves.

20.30 Quite regular white horses now to confirm the force 4 winds. Vicki back to 25 strokes per minute and still as chirpy as ever – she must be made of iron.

21.00 The light is fading and even the French coast is being lost in the mist. I cannot even make out Wissant although it’s not more than 8 miles off, and I expect even Blanc Nez will soon disappear. Barry has switched on the navigation lights.

21.15 I go below for another snooze – I hope; this swim will certainly go on for another 2 or 3 hours yet. Stroke rate still 25 per minute. Sea temperature 61°.

21.37 Now back on the ebb taking us yet again towards Gris Nez. We’re down almost to Sangatte and can see the lights of the Channel Tunnel workings blazing to the west. In Vicki’s favour is the south west wind minimizing the effect of the Ebb-tide and giving her more chance of gaining the shore. Now almost dark.

21.55 Vicki is making a valiant effort to get inshore before we reach Blanc Nez, or we shall be pushed out to sea again by the currents at this point. We are heading toward the CA 6 buoy and hope to make a landfall at Black Nez.

22.15 Vicki still maintaining her 25 strokes per minute and the sea temperature remains at 61°. Sea much rougher making the boat roll quite wildly. Vicki continues in her unperturbed way, but she must be feeling the effects of the waves with such a stroke as the butterfly.

22.42 Vicki stopped for her hot chocolate etc. and is still in remarkably good form. We are now about 2 miles from the shore.

22.53 Barry had to take avoiding action to miss a fishing net buoy and Vicki swam around it in a matter of fact way.

23. 15 Mike wakes me up to a hell of a rolling boat – wind now a good force 5 making the boat heave all over the place. I climb dizzily out on to the deck to see Vicki struggling away in quite a vortex of foam and spray, visible only because of the light-stick fastened to the back of her costume and by the torches that constantly probe the sea for a sight of her. I find an oil-skin of Barry – it’s bloody cold with only a jersey on. Heaven only knows what Vicki’s emotions are, but she still battles away as stoically as ever. I’m beginning to feel that it’s a bit risky for Vicki to keep going, but Barry is ready to keep going until Vicki herself calls it off. She certainly is in no way either discouraged or distressed – she’s probably more alive than all the rest of us! Her reserves of strength and enthusiasm seem inexhaustible. She seems to be in some danger of being hit by the rolling boats as she is staying very close along side; Barry has her in the lee of the boat, but the wind is constantly pushing the boat over to Vicki who doesn’t move to port to compensate. I wouldn’t be very keen to go ashore in the zodiac to see her land in this wind. It’s a hell of a job to move on deck, and to write these notes, even below, it’s quite a problem.

24.00 We are certainly making good progress towards the lights of the Channel Tunnel workings, but are still some 11/2 miles offshore. A ferry goes between us and the shore – a bit close I thought, but we are very well lit up, both boats having all lights on to keep a good watch on Vicki. The boat rolls so much that I go below again to scribble a bit more to this log. The flood has finished and we’re off once more towards Gris Nez, but how far before we land is in the gift of the gods – and Vicki. This wind will hold up the ebb, but we are making our way back in the real darkness.

11.7.89

00.15 another day and we are now in our 21st hour of the swim.

00.25 Mike surfaces again and I go below for another break – damn good job there are two of us!

00.35 Vicki spent a minute dislodging a sea-louse. We are in the lee of the Blanc Nez so there is less wind to disturb the sea, so it is calming down. We are approximately 1 mile from the shore, but the land is falling away, so Vicki will have a longer swim unless she can improve her speed a bit. Her stroke rate now is 24 per minute.

01.10 Stroke rate still 24 per minute, Sea temperature now 62°.

01.25 Mike wakes me up to see Vicki swimming astern of Harbinger and it’s not easy always to identify her in the still rough sea when she falls a bit behind. She is still swimming strongly and is fully aware of the task ahead of her we are now west of the Channel Tunnel Workings and driving into the dark of the approaches to Cap Blanc Nez. Ron switches on his searchlight, but the mist prevents our seeing the coastline, so we can’t estimate how far there is to go. The radar is no use because it doesn’t show up the actual waterline. Ron has his gaze fixed on the echo-sounder, and says we have 11 m of water beneath us. Wind still strong, but we are benefitting from being in the lee of the land. How long to go? I simply can’t hazard a guess, and we’re all of the same mind.

01. 40 Vicki is still swimming between the escort boats, and both have their search lights probing for the beach. Barry estimates that we have seven cables – about half mile to go. Ron shows me on the map the spot of deep water we’ve just moved 13 m down. We can now make out the beach ahead, but not exactly the waterline. Our light illuminates the beach closer than that of Andante so I called Vicki to come a bit closer to us and follow our light ashore. Barry has just called: “only half a mile to go“, Vicki replies “in that case I’ll turn around and swim back. Bob calls from Andante that there is a flood of newspaper reporters on the dock at Dover waiting for the latest news. The Don’s get out in the zodiac – I’m not sorry that it’s too small to carry three!

02.00 The zodiac is falling behind as the boys cannot start the motor, but I get an odd glimpse of their torch as we press ahead. Vicki is now swimming alongside the Andante and is going ahead of us on Harbinger. Ron goes below again to check the depth and moves our searchlight to flood the beach for her.

02.30 Lights go out in Andante – what the hell? Only hope now she doesn’t go a ground with all her electrics out of commission – would happen just now! The Don’s have got the zodiac going and are catching up with Vicki, but we can clearly see her light-stick and anyway we have her quite clearly in our searchlight. No signs of lights – or life – on Andante.

02.40 Nailbiting suspense all around; the Don’s in the zodiac have caught up with Vicki and we can see Vicki’s light-stick nearly on the water line. Andante OK.

02.48 Vicki walks out of the water; Mike and I check the time together, and we all yell our heads off in sheer delight, relief, and almost every other joyful emotion of which humanity is capable. I could hardly believe that to cross the Channel with the butterfly stroke was possible, and here I am to witness it’s being done with technical perfection. I have observed three earlier attempts, none of which lasted more than two hours. Vicki has done the impossible in 23 hours 33 minutes, and covered 47.18 statute miles.

03.07 The zodiac is back to Harbinger to our renewed outburst of wild cheers for Vicki who looks and sounds as though she has just come in from a short training swim. The telephones of both boats are alive with the calls from around the world to congratulate Vicki, and for the third time on my many Channel swim observer trips, repeat to myself the words of my famous namesake, sir Walter of that ilk:

“sound, sound the Clarion, fill the five;

to all the sensual world proclaim:

‘One crowded hour of glorious life

is worth an age without a name!’”

Ray Scott

Mike stickler

Sport can be extraordinary, yet relentless. You dig deep into your heart and into your sub-consciousness, to pull out tiny sparks of ferocity, or hope or strength or whatever you can find, to help you push forward. Last week, Maya Farrell dug deeper than most would ever even consider, during her attempt at swimming across the widest point of Lake Ontario (a distance of 88k). For hours she struggled in the pitch dark as she continued to push herself towards achieving her goal. I am convinced with the recent loss of her mom and her grandfather, that she didn’t have enough resources at that moment in her life to continue forward.

Through out Maya’s swim, I considered what it takes to find the fortitude to go further than any one else has ever gone. What was reinforced in my brain by watching Maya is the depth that we can dig is related directly to the emotional strength we possess at that moment in time. With Maya’s loss so fresh in her heart, she didn’t have as far to push until she reached the periphery of the expanse that she holds in reserve for such moments.

I believe there is a huge expanse inside each of us where we can dig, as we face a challenge. The size or shape of that space changes depending on our emotional strength at that moment in time. Although Maya was digging deeper and deeper into that expanse, it wasn’t as vast because of her recent losses.

I think of a story that my mother (who was a nurse) once told me about a woman for whom she was caring. The woman who had yearned to be a mother for years had finely given birth to her beautiful baby. She was then diagnosed with cancer. As the cancer, ate away at her, she became more and more desperate to live. On what was believed to be her death bed, she murmured “ My God, I can’t die, I have my baby to take care of”. She then fell into a coma. Time passed, and the care givers believed she was in her final days, but she woke from the coma, with no sign of cancer in her body.

I think this woman was so desperate, that she found a tiny path that most would never discover. I think that path is like a tiny fissure in a cave that leads us to deeper pockets. There are some emotional states like grief that may block the fissure so completely that they are next to impossible to find and some situations where we are so desperate, that we somehow find our way down a hidden path.

Sometimes those tiny fissures can be blocked by fear or loss, like a rock wedged in a pipe. It can get so wedged in that pathway, that it becomes completely blocked. This is like hitting the proverbial wall. We don’t know how to get past it. Sometimes there is no choice but to pick away at that rock until we get through, and sometimes we need to say “I’ll save that for another day”.

I think that once we have found our way through, our brains begin to map a path so that it becomes easier and easier to find our way. I have watched athletes work hard their entire career. They push themselves as hard as they can, but they never find the path. I have also watched athletes search out path after path and thrive as they reach further into the unknown to grow and excel.

I believe that if we allowed Maya to struggle until sunrise, that she would’ve been able to continue. But we had a minimum of 24 hours and at least one more night ahead of us. That night would have been even more challenging, which would likely mean a third day and possibly night in the lake. Extending Maya’s time in the lake would create more risks for her young body and mind -risks that I believe were too great. The best option was to help her get out, teach her how to find the path she needed, and then offer her the opportunity to reenter the water and continue on her journey.

Heart. Resiliency. Digging Deep. Fortitude. Toughness. These are many different ways to describe that which we honour greatly in our sporting lives. We celebrate the strongest, the fastest, the greatest, but we are also captivated by the athletes who push beyond their perceived limits to a place where most of us would never consider going.

Today I celebrate Maya, and all who understand what it’s like to reach deep into our souls to achieve that which others can only dream.

Over and over again I hear about coaches belittling or bullying their athletes in order to get them to “step up”. I watch coaches disrespect officials when they disagree with a call. I watch sarcasm used as humour and I watch the body language of the recipient, and I intuitively know that the attempt at humour stung and made the recipient feel hurt, or humiliated.
Is sport about toughening up young people so they can take a hit? Is it about teaching them to handle trash talk from team mates, opponents or even the coach? Although many people consider these situations as aspects of sport that young people need to learn to deal with in order to be part of a team, I believe we can find success without tearing our young people down or putting them in undue danger of physical injury. I believe that a coach’s responsibility is about helping young people develop the skills to help them step into a positive, meaningful successful life.
Sport is the tool we use to teach life lessons. A coach is the person whom we trust to guide our young people through tumult and challenge to learn life lessons, moral responsibility, honesty, integrity, work ethic, team support, physical prowess through passion for a common activity or goal.
I struggle with the concept that our job as a coach is to “toughen them up”. I prefer to believe that our job is to find the uniqueness in each one of our charges and to help them learn how to use those traits to find joy and success in their world.
I have had the opportunity to work with a lot of exceptional coaches, and I learned something valuable from each one of them. Some of the strongest lessons however came from experiencing how not to do something.
The first coach I worked with when I was a teenager told me “never bring yourself down to the level of a child. Instead, stand up straight and make them look up at you. This is how you get respect.”
I tried to follow this expectation, but it felt so wrong to me (especially since I was working with age 10 and under swimmers). As I matured as a coach, I realized how valuable this lesson was. It was when I first realized that when I received advice, that I didn’t have to abide by it, just learn from it.
The next coach I worked with would point out individuals who were less skilled or had coordination or other challenges and announce to the rest of the team that this was “a bad swimmer.” He would publicly point out all the things they were doing wrong, in attempt to show their team mates how not to swim. 
From this coach I learned that through compassion and patience all things could be achieved. I took these more challenged swimmers and helped them develop the skills that they needed to achieve their goals. The coach saw this desire to work with the more challenged athletes as a weakness in me and suggested that I should not bother.
Another coach with whom I worked believed that only the talented swimmers belonged on a team. Their was no place for the weak, the differently motivated, the less skilled. By then I had gained enough confidence and had grown my coaching style in a direction that I was proud of, that I argued back.
Every participant has value. Every athlete offers something valuable to the team. If it’s skill based, compassion based, energy, passion, team spirit based, there are so many different types of people, goals and motivations that each offers a unique perspective and opportunity for others to grow, improve, mature and excel.
As a coach of a YMCA program I have had the opportunity to continue to direct my coaching in a humanistic or holistic manner. The YMCA vision is Mind Body Spirit. To coach within this environment allows me to continue to follow my coaching path.
It’s important to never assume a holistic or humanistic coached team can’t be successful. In fact the opposite is true. A positive environment can draw athletes together and create an environment of success and team that helps pull others along. More and more professional as well as Olympic and Paralympic stream teams are moving in this direction and seeing huge success for their athletes. 
I encourage coaches to think before they speak, parents to stand up to adults who think bullying or belittling an athlete is an acceptable way to speak to them, and everyone to help young people show respect and support their friends and team mates in a positive supportive manner.

As a new open water swimming season gets under way, I ask you, why do we do this? What do we hope to achieve? Some people swim for the glory of a record, be it speed, or distance or even a world first, some to challenge themselves and test their mettle, some for the camaraderie of working as a team as everyone pulls together to achieve the perceived impossible. There are probably as many reasons to swim open water, as there are swimmers.

I swim for the challenge. I loved selecting goals that others believe impossible, and attacking that challenge one stroke at a time until the goal is achieved. We never do it alone, because there are always 20-30 crew- members on a swim to help us achieve our goal, but it is a lonely undertaking.

The purest form of the sport is you and the water (taking each challenge on, one at a time and not giving in). Temperature, waves, illness, body failure, physical exhaustion, wildlife, flotsam, equipment failure, crew challenges, navigational errors and mental anguish all play into it.

I think one of the things that I love about the sport is tackling these challenges one at a time (or in a wave if that’s how they arrive) and overcoming them. The swims I am most proud of are the ones where I overcame the most challenges.

When I speak publicly about my adventures, I talk about the most agonizing challenges that I faced. I explore how they affected me mentally and emotionally, how they impacted my crew, and how they made me a stronger person (or how they broke me down so I had to face the challenge again and again until I finally was able to break through the barrier and win).

I believe that I am who I am, more because of the challenges that I overcame, than for the distant shores where I arrived. Being a marathon swimmer isn’t about being the first to reach a new shore or to reach it fastest youngest or more times, it’s all in the journey that we each take.

We all look for ways to make our journey more palatable. We check the weather; we chose a season that is more favourable, we learn from those who went before. I wonder if we are taking it to far however when it comes to our use of pacers.

When I began my marathon swimming, It was explained to me that pacers were used for short bursts to reengage a swimmer, boost their speed, or help them refocus. Now we seem to be using pacers continually from the first moment it is permitted until the swim is completed. We are even using them to maintain a speed to set speed records. This would never be allowed in competitive swimming, where speed records must be achieved in races with other swimmers who are trying to do the same thing (not by having swimmer after swimmer dive into the adjoining lane fresh and ready to go).

One of the most excruciating times of my marathon swimming career was the seclusion, but it was also one of the most rewarding. I did use a pacer a number of times to help me refocus (usually around the 36 hour mark for a little emotional contact). The most memorable time was during my 80 kilometer butterfly swim. I had been in Lake Ontario for around 60 hours and I was hallucinating and confused. My thoughts had fragmented and I couldn’t figure out if I was participating in a training swim or the actual event. Logic told me that it was the actual event, but my confused mind wasn’t convinced. I asked my husband John to come in and swim with me for a bit, so I could ask him the question (in part because I was embarrassed to ask it out loud and in part not to overly concern the crew). I got my answer, John got out and I continued forward.

My request is that we consider how and when we use pacers. I don’t believe that we should use pacers as soon as possible and as long as possible. An open water swim should not be comfortable. I’m not saying don’t use a pacer. I’m saying when you use a pacer for an extended period of time; you are cheating yourself out of valuable life lessons and opportunities to grow.

I encourage you instead to accept the challenges and keep pushing through. Every time you think you can’t go on, or cant go on alone, wait an hour. Push through the emotions. When you come out the other side (and you will) you will have learned some valuable things about yourself, your mental toughness and your fortitude.

As you move forward in life you will take this new knowledge and new skills. As you face challenges in other parts of your life you will have the confidence and knowledge to push through and as a parent, partner, coach, or friend you will be able to share your life lessons with others and help them overcome as well.

I am not a swim coach, I am a coach who teaches life skills through the sport of swimming. My job isn’t to make it easier for my athletes, it’s to teach them the skills that they need to take into the rest of their lives. As a parent or coach of a young person attempting an open water swim, the goal shouldn’t be to make it as easy as possible for them, but to teach them how to face challenges head on and overcome them. As a more mature open water swimmer I encourage you to take heed to these words as well. The goal shouldn’t be to cross a body of water at all cost, but to push through and keep fighting as you develop personal skills as you work to achieve your goal.

Both ways, a strong-minded person will succeed.

  
I woke up yesterday morning (on my 55th birthday) thinking if I could give advice to my teenage self, what would I say. If I widened it to the young people with whom I work, what messages would I share? I wrote a list, adjusted, slashed and created until I had these words. I realized as I read the final product that these are reminders that we need everyday, so I thought I would share it with all of you.
Smile with your eyes
Greet people with an open heart

See possibilities in every person and every situation

There are no limitations to the human spirit

(Unbelievable things can be achieved with passion and determination)

Write a personal mission statement

(Everyone needs a road map of who they are and what is important to them. I choose the words Dream, Believe, Laugh, Achieve, Inspire)

Seek out the positive in every situation

Never make a life altering decision when you are at your emotional lowest.

Make Big Hairy Audacious Goals

Make yourself uncomfortable

(We seem to strive to find comfort in our lives. Instead, I encourage you to find discomfort. This is the only way to push our boundaries and achieve the perceived impossible)

There is always something left 

(Even at your lowest, most exhausted, most emotional state, there is the ability to achieve. Never feel so disheartened that you forget this fact)

Please enjoy this essay written by a swimming friend Laura Muise. One of the ideas I keep playing with, is when I write my biography I get many different voices to tell the story. I would love to have different perspectives and views of what it is like to be part of a marathon swim. I always talk about “we” when I talk about my swims because it takes a whole team to complete a marathon swim. Perhaps it also would take a whole team to write the story. Thank you Laura for sharing this awesome piece.
“Vicki Keith, here is the piece I entered into the writing contest. They provided 6 words (dock, rock, flat, spit, bay, waves) you had to include and the piece was to be no more than 250 words. Thanks for the inspiration!” Laura Muise”

  
40◦ 36’ 56” N, 79◦ 20’ 34”   

(The long distance swims of Vicki Keith)

When I was ready, I accepted the fair exchange we made that day my toes left the edge of the dock.

 A covenant forged between flesh and spirit. All you demanded was faith; you promised nothing.

I surrendered to you fully, my limbs carving a way through your many forms- lakes, straits, and wide open ocean. You extended yourself to me as you had for Marilyn.

On sweet days, with each butterflied stroke, you held me close keeping the horrors in plain sight at bay. And when you turned hard, your weight was almost unbearable; the spaces to breathe to be earned not provided. 

I tasted you in my tears as redemption came on crests of waves, all at once tender and delicate and punishing.

Language and emotion floating away from me, the void filled with thoughts buoyed only by the need for solid rock.

When it appeared you pushed me from your embrace to the spit that always welcomed me back.  

When I die will my last thoughts be of you? 

Will I smell the salted mist of Juan De Fuca, feel the sting of the jelly fish off Catalina or glimpse flashes of the flat white cliffs of the Channel? 

Or will I simply hold my breath until the mission is done?

Perhaps I will remember the girl in the practical red bathing suit looking for more than a cheesecake pose on the shore. 

The girl that could not be contained by roped lanes and tiled edges.

Yesterday I swam on Thanksgiving weekend for the 44^th straight year in a row. As we jumped into Lake Ontario with a Laugh and a shriek, I reflected on why each of us chose to challenge ourselves by jumping into the cool waters of Lake Ontario. The answers are numerous. Fun, Friendship, Peer Pressure/Support and I’m sure a number of other reasons, but I started thinking about the challenge, and what taking on challenges provides to us.

Yes and No are both powerful words that can direct our life and we have to realise the power these two words have over us. I think the healthiest thing we can do is put ourselves in uncomfortable situations. Every time we take on a challenge, our world gets a little bigger. Every time we say “No” to a challenge, our world shrinks a little bit.

I have been told that I am crazy, or my goal is too difficult, or that I’m not good enough, or a large number of other reasons that a goal I have set my sights on, is impossible. If we listen to the people who are afraid, or don’t see possibilities in our world, we begin to live in their world and accept their limitations as our own.

Thank you to my friends who said “Yes” yesterday. I know for some of you it was WAY out of your comfort zone. I hope that the fun of the day and the acceptance of the challenge helps each of us say “yes” the next time something scares us or threatens to pull us out of our comfort zone.

A physical challenge, a jolt of frigid water, a leap of faith when every bone and muscle in your body is screaming “NO” is the best way to remind ourselves that there are no limitations that we can’t overcome.

In the next 12 months, find something that scares you, or makes you feel uncomfortable, or something that you would normally never consider doing, and do it.

Say “Yes” more often than you say “No”. Don’t look before you leap. Be a little bit crazy. Surround yourself with friends who are up for the ride. Take on each new challenge with a laugh and a shriek.

As Sally said before we threw ourselves off the dock, “Un, Deux, Trois, Allez!!!”

30 years ago this week, powered by dry lasagna noodles spread with peanut butter (because that’s all I had in my kitchen), I set my very first world record.

I remember taking a taxi from my tiny apartment in Kingston to Lake Ontario Park. I paid my fair and wandered down the hill to the tiny beach where the Kingston Whig standard photographer was waiting. He had a tiny wind up bird taped on top of his camera lens. When he started to take my picture he wound it up and it started to peck frantically.

I thought to myself “great, they don’t believe I can do this. Look who they sent to take my picture.” It turns out, that photographer was the best photographers at the Whig Standard and one of the best in Canada -Jack Chiang.

Note the bathing cap. Before my swim, I bought a plain bathing cap and wrote WR #1 on it with a permanent marker. I knew this was my first of many world records although I had no idea where my journey would lead.

I hopped into a small aluminum fishing boat and my crew of two, took me out to the point of land where I was to start. I spread some Vaseline on my arms and legs because I had heard that’s what marathon swimmers do. I slid off the boat, adjusted my goggles on my face, took a deep breath, dove under water and came up swimming butterfly.

My goal was to swim 3 crossings of the Kingston waterfront to complete 12 miles butterfly. This would surpass the 10 miles butterfly record completed by James and Jonathan Dedonata as reported in the Guinness Book of World Records.

I swam for what felt like forever; two pulls and a breath, two pulls and a breath. My heart rate settled, my mind wandered and then returned to the task at hand. Two pulls and a breath and I thought about how it would feel to set this world record. Two pulls and a breath and I reflected back on the process that brought me to this moment. Two pulls and a breath and I wondered how far I had gone. I looked around to see where I was.

I was still swimming along the break wall that runs from the point where I started. I had been in the water less than 10 minutes. I panicked for a second, wondered what I had gotten myself into and then realized I had a long road ahead of me. I settled in and continued to swim.

My goggles fogged up. I couldn’t see a thing but I was aware of the shadow of the fishing boat to my side. I continued stroking. One fog droplet ran down my right goggle creating a tiny clear streak. If I turned my head just right, I could see the land to which I was swimming parallel.

I reached Fort Henry (my turn around point) and headed back to Lake Ontario Park. The winds were blowing against me, so it became more challenging, but nothing I couldn’t handle. About 9 hours after I began I was back at my starting point. One more lap to go. I had been able to find no marathon rules, so I didn’t know if I was allowed to stop and eat, but I realized I had to have something. I treaded water and chewed on two barley sugar candies, guzzled a can of apple juice and was on my way in under 2 minutes.

The final leg was with the waves. As I swam, I became aware of more people along the shoreline. People were stopping and cheering. Police cars pulled to the shore and turned on their overhead lights. Someone blasted Chariots of Fire across the water. The music inspired me and encouraged me. It wasn’t until afterward that I realized the music wasn’t a coincidence. It was actually played to encourage me.

Boats came out and joined what was now becoming a small flotilla. Someone waved the newspaper at me. I was on the front page. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think any one would really notice. In fact I had only contacted the media the day before because Guinness rules stated I should.

Someone called out to me that they had found out that the DeDonata brothers who had set the 10 mile record had recently surpassed it to 47 miles. I was a little disappointed, but just said “that’s OK, this is still a female world record”.

I started to get really hungry. All I wanted was a hamburger. As I took my next breath, I called out “hamburger”. And then with the next breath, and the next breath I called it out again. The people in the boats around me started to laugh.

I turned the final bend and saw my finish point. I was so excited. I was actually going to do it! I turned to the boats accompanying me and said “That’s it. I Quit!” Someone actually thought I was serious and started to yell encouragement. I laughed and kept on swimming.

There was a small group of friends and followers at the RMC Memorial Arch where I walked a shore. I greeted and chatted with them, posed for some pictures, spoke with the media and then caught a ride back to my apartment with friends.

It wasn’t until I got home that I realized that I had no clothes with me -I had left my swim bag with another friend. I therefore had no keys to get into my apartment. I stood outside for quite a while until my land lords arrived home. I then quickly went in side, to take a bath to get the Vaseline off of me while my friends waited so we could go out and eat.

I scrubbed and scrubbed to no avail. I tried powdered cleanser, but the Vaseline still clung to me. I finally grabbed a razor and shaved the Vaseline off. I got dressed quickly and my friends and I walked down to the local watering hole for a burger and beverage. As we sat at the bar munching on burgers, the news came on. There I was, top story. It was an awesome feeling not only to know that I had set a world record, but also that people actually cared about and were impacted by what I considered a personal goal.

I realized at that point, that I wanted more of this sport that I had found and that I liked the feeling of being able to achieve what others believed impossible. I also realized that if people cared about what I was doing, that I could make an impact in the lives of others doing something I loved.

The 12 miles butterfly was the only swim that I ever completed that wasn’t a fund raiser. From that point forward, I never got into a swim without a cause that was close to my heart. My first charity was Hospice Kingston. An organization that my mother and two other local nurses had founded. I swam and raised about $50,000 for Hospice during a 4 year period.

As my swims grew, I moved to something that I was more personally passionate about. I had spent my life working with young people with disabilities and exceptionalities so I began raising funds in that direction. I raised around $800,000 for Variety Village then the close to $300,000 for the YMCA of Kingston.

Today, the YMCA is where I am able to give more than financial support. I am able to give my time and share the knowledge I have built throughout my marathon swimming career. It is where I show the young people with whom I work that there is no such word as impossible. Anything can be achieved with hard work and dedication.

I had been talking about my desire to become a marathon swimmer for years. My friends were patient with me, but had heard the story so many times that I’m sure they were beginning to question wether I would ever take action. My greatest challenge was that I had no idea how to start on such a big goal. I had no idea what steps to take and once I had figured out some of the steps, I had no idea what order in which to take those steps. As I look back, I realize that this is something I have struggled with my entire life. As a child, I could never figure out the steps to asking a friend for a sleepover. Do I ask them first and then my Mom, or do I ask my Mom and then my friend? If I ask my friend first, and then the date didn’t fit with my family plans, I would have to go back and tell my friend that they couldn’t come after all. If I asked my Mom first and we chose a date then I went to my friend to see if they were able to stay, and the date didn’t work for them, then I was in the situation all over again. Do I go back to my Mom and choose another date, or do I choose a date with my friend and then check with my Mom? It felt like a vicious circle. I also struggled with taking action on getting tasks done. One of my family chores was to wash the dishes. Not a complicated job by any means, but starting the task after a large family dinner sometimes felt completely overwhelming. How do I start? I would stand and look at the dishes spread across the counter tops. Food scraps, clutter, stacks of mismatched cutlery, glasses, dinner plates, cups and saucers. Panic would set in.  Procrastination seemed like a logical first step. I would go to the bathroom or walk back out to where the family was sitting to ask a question, listen to a conversation or catch a few minutes of whatever was on the TV set. I would then turn and walk back into the kitchen.  Nothing had changed. The dishes were still spread everywhere. I would move the dishes around. Stack and re-stack them into different organizational options. I would scrape them, dump liquids from them, reorganize them again, but never feel like I had made any forward progress. How do you start an overwhelming task? You can procrastinate while you try to figure out a plan. You can sort, organize, adjust and readjust all you want. You are no closer to taking action. One intentional step in a positive direction is what it really takes. For me, it was turning on the tap. Turning on the tap was the step I needed to take. Once the tap was turned on, the sink started to fill up, the water loosened the grime on the dishes, a swish of the dish cloth and the first dish was clean and in the drying rack. With that simple step, momentum was created. A pattern presented itself to me and before I knew it, dishes were dried and put away. The counter tops were cleared and clean and the dish towel was hanging on the oven door handle drying. It was the same thing as I talked about my marathon swimming aspirations. Where do I start? Who do I talk to? What steps do I need to take? It was a muddle in my brain and I resorted to my childhood patterns. Procrastination was always my first plan of action. 30 years ago, at the age of 24 (after 8 years of talking, aspiring and procrastinating) a friend came up to me and provided the first step. He looked me right in the eye and said “shut up and do it”. I looked at him shocked and said “OK, I’ll do it next summer -procrastinating again. He said “No. This summer. You need to get in the water. Get busy and do this.” All of a sudden I had unwittingly taken the first step towards achieving my goal. I had a date.  That friend had helped me turn on the tap. He set the process in motion. Within 5 months of having that conversation, I had set 2 world records. I had swum 12 miles butterfly along the shoreline of Lake Ontario and swum 100 hours continuous swimming in a pool, beating Myrtle Huddleston’s record of 87 hours and 27 minutes. I share this story because I can’t help but wonder if other people struggle with similar challenges. So many people have goals, dreams or aspirations on which they have never take action. Is it because they too don’t know where or how to start? Well, I am here today, to say; Today is the day! Turn on the tap. Take action. Shut up and do it! Set a date. No, not next year! Set a date sometime within the next 12 months and start working at achieving your dream.