CNN Clip Online!

Fortunately, CNN posted the live clip on their video archive, and I've embedded it here. Hope it works! Let me know what you think. It was a bit sporadic, but the final product seemed decent and hopefully it will encourage more support for Harvey!

If the above doesn't show up, click here to watch it on the CNN website!

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Kyle Taylor

ON CNN LIVE Friday August 21st! Stream Online!

Just a quick update - CNN somehow stumbled across the Harvey story and asked me to be on CNN Live today, Friday, August 21st at:

3:30pm EST

12:30pm PST

8:30pm GMT

While I have no idea of when it will air when on the planet, the best thing to do is tune in online at: http://www/cnn.com/live/

Either type that in to your browser or just click here to go directly to it.

The background story is online as well! You can read it by clicking here.

Run Harvey, Run!

Just had a lovely e-chat with Harvey's Mom Carol. They're in New York at the minute getting Harvey's first set of running legs. The conversation reminded me what this whole endeavor was all about: Helping Harvey. She also forwarded me a news story about Harvey running FOR THE FIRST TIME! This is what our contributions and hard work helped to fund. All I have to say is, "Go Harvey, GO!"

Follow this link to watch the video.

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Kyle Taylor

Rudest Email I Have Ever Received

I just received a message from someone else who has been training to swim the channel. It was horribly rude and cruel and I felt the need to share it, followed by my reply. I only hope he finds the inner peace necessary to move on with his own life.

The message:

Hi Everyne

I'm not one for sticking my beak in, but this really P..sed me off. Kyle who has been on the beach for 10 weeks. Booked swims , not sent his paper work in . Cancelled his slot, booked with the other group...Mate I was out Sat in the Harbour & on a channel swim Sat night ...No wind, no tide all night.....Where were you? as there were boats from the CSA & CS&PF in the channel.

So I read on his facebook that he , on Sunday did a 25 mile swim in the Harbour, in 8.5 hours claiming it was an equal distance channel swim........Mate if you have the guts get out there & test yourself.......All you did was an 8.5 hour training swim.......In a wetsuit it looks like......So Kyle, put on a pair of regulation swimmers & test yourself..

We all saw you in the harbour, no one knew when you started, there was no " 0fficial" observer, so we do not know. If infact you actually did the distance, & the conditions were flat. You didn't come over & thank the crew' who supported you through ALL your trainng sessions....I wonder why?
I think YOU know the answer.....

Mate I have spent 17 hrs 11min & 20hrs 28min in the real channel not touching the French coast line....So I can tell you, your Training swim is nothing like the real thing. If I appear a little miffed you are bloody right..........I am sure many people past & present who have trained , & are training in the harbour for their day, (Many did 7 hrs sat & 6 on sunday )will feel the same....Kyle the only person you have deluded , is yourself, & misled your sponsers & supporters.

You also claim that there are no swimable conditions till Aug..... Kyle this is the channel. The perfect day was sat . I am swimming this tide & I'll bet I have a swim.....Kyle I am fron Australia & have been training since late May in Dover. Staying at a B&B & I am not sponsered. I will be here till my swim, or my time runs out. Its the channel or nothing, anything else is a farce......Deal with it mate.... You were offered a delay , & turned down. Stating you were ready...What for a harbour training swim in a wetsuit, in daylight. Standing on the beach for your feed........By the way was this your costal swim?????

I will wait with interest your reply, or will this to be like your training swim .....A non event


To all those who did such good training swims over BOTH days on the weekend ... Well done...Good luck when you take the plunge in the Channel.


Cheers

Rick


My Reply:

Dear Rick,

What a rude, uninformed message. I have never - and will never - speak to any other human being the way you have spoken to me. What's really upsetting to me is that - after having swam that distance and training for 10 weeks all for charity - you failed to note that the purpose of my challenge was to raise funds for a boy who has no legs. I'm sorry that, among everything that is going on with channel swimming, you felt the need to engage in my life in such a tactless, cruel and uniformed way. I feel very bad for you.

I did not and will not claim it as a channel swim because it wasn't. It was exactly what I have said it was from the beginning. With regard to what happened surrounding my swim, you most certainly do not have all the facts and I will most certainly take the higher road and let it remain a private matter. As you said, you're not one for sticking your beak in but apparently that is not true at all, as evidenced by this message.

I did not cancel my swim - my piloting paperwork was lost, I was never put on the email list (the one you've cc'ed with your message, which is also a very mature and dignified thing to do), I misunderstood my pilot booking for the registration and my swim was canceled for me, with Mark Oram sending me a vicious email calling me "incompetent." I have never met him in person. Fortunately, CSA said they would register me last-minute so that I could swim for my charity - a boy with no legs. Saturday the 4th was taken by another swimmer on my tide and Sunday way the first possible day, but my pilot did not want to go. In fact, no swims have gone with my pilot since Saturday the 4th.

While you may have the financial ability to afford hotels, food and so on for weeks on end to make your crossing, I do not. I am a student who has worked for charities his whole life. I'm a first-generation college graduate who has worked tooth and nail for everything in my life and I could not afford to just "wait it out" for a day to swim. Life, for me, had to carry on and I was then able to donate an additional $3000 to the young boy's fund for prosthetic limbs that I was swimming to support. As I mentioned numerous times in my retelling of the story, getting to France stopped being my primary objective several weeks ago. I was under the impression - made by most people on the beach - that crossing the channel is a personal journey and I sit here wondering why you feel the need to find a way to make my experience about you. That, Rick, is extremely upsetting.

I'd like to finish with what - to me - is the most vile portion of your message - that I did not thank the beach crew. I had a massive banner made that said across the top: "Many thanks to Freda, Irene, Barry, Louise and Michelle. You are Saints." I handed personal thank you notes to each of them on the beach last weekend. I brought thank you gifts to each of them when I visited home in California. I have been nothing but thankful to them throughout this entire process.

While my experience may not have worked out the way YOU wanted it to, it most certainly worked out the way I wanted it to. You do not know me, just as I do not know you. I would never assume to understand your life until learning about it from you. It's a shame that you chose to express yourself in this way instead of taking the time to fully understand me and my experience.

Regardless, best of luck with your crossing this year. Just as I learned a great deal and had my life fundamentally changed by the entire journey, I hope it has done and will continue to do the same for you.

Best,

Kyle Taylor

P.S. If you can forward my reply to the entire listserv, I would greatly appreciate it. Because my paperwork was lost, I was never added to that list and so never received any information sent over it.

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Kyle Taylor

When It’s Time, It’s Time

We drove down to the coast Saturday night and I was ready to go. Everything looked good - the weather, the tides, the swimsuit, the “feeding...” I did a short one-hour “fitness” swim and we headed to dinner. That’s when the call came - high winds, no go. Not sure when we can fit you in again. Shock. How could I wait? I was ready now. Another week of pining over this and I would potentially go completely mad. The pilot says he’ll meet me in the morning to talk options. I attempt to calm down.


The evening progresses and my head is spinning. My Mom is here. The team is here. I am mentally HERE. A week could turn into a month. A month into next season. I am no fun. The morning comes. I talk with the pilot. No space the rest of the season, but a possible cancellation at the end of the month. Possible cancellation. Another month of waiting. The expense of lodging, food and the like. My Masters degree. Mom is here now. The team is here now. I am ready now.


The decision is made. I’ve got to do something now with this frame of mind. I need to target this focus. I need to prove to myself I can do it. “I’ll swim a marathon in the harbour instead. I’ll prove to myself I can do it. We’ll save the thousands of dollars it costs to rent a pilot boat. More money for Harvey. A way to close this chapter of my life and still feel like I’ve done something amazing. It is on.



I’m in the zone. Sunscreen on. Suit On. Vaseline On. Cap On. Goggles On. Crocs On. The final walk down the pebbly beach of Dover. “This is it,” I say to myself. “Lets bring it home.” I chuck my Crocs to shore. This is between me and the breaker wall now.

Hours one, two and three go slow. There are no half-hour feeding stops on shore. The cold sinks in, as usual, just after the second hour mark. I come in to feed at three hours and I’m shivering. “I’m cold,” I shout to the beach. “Remember what your coach said,” Lianne reminds me. “You’re not going to get any colder.” Realization. Happiness. “Oh my gosh, I’m not!” Back to the water I go.


My mind twirls on about the good weekends and the bad. What I’m going to say afterward. The knowledge that this could be my last dip in Dover Harbour. Happiness. The cold starts to fade. The soreness in my shoulders diminishes. It is on. Now all I need to do is kick the hip pain. I get to the wall at four and a half hours and am greeted by a swarm of jellyfish. How about we split the harbour equally between us? Thoughts? Reactions?


The half-hour feeds make things easier. “Just to the wall and back,” I tell myself, again and again. It becomes my mantra. “Wall and back. Wall and back. Wall and back.” Suddenly I’m at hour five. Aditi and Lianne give me new topics each time so I don’t get bored. Name a song that starts with every letter of the alphabet. My perfect partner. How to improve LSE. Biscuits vs. Cookies. I’m in a zone. My hips loosen up and nothing can stop me. My mind is busy, my pull is strong, my legs are coming with me.

At six and a half hours people start showing up. I am greeted on the beach by a swarm of friends and of course, my amazing mother. They’re with me, and their energy begins to recharge my batteries. John tosses the feeding bottle to me and I sip it quickly. The cold is completely gone now. Just two more hours and I’m there.



My mind drifts back to the first two hours. “If I could do those, I can do these.” Now, all of a sudden, I’m thinking about how I’ll miss all of this. Not spending endless hours cold on Saturday and Sunday, but pushing my limits. Doing something human beings should not do to help someone in need. I decide that something must come next. Something equally difficult but a touch warmer.

Without warning I’m in for my last feed. Just 30 more minutes to hit the near marathon marker. I’m churning away - lots more effort to go a distance that now seems quite far away. My mind drifts back to the first hours. I begin to wonder if I’ll cry, laugh, smile, feel indifferent. I begin to wonder how I should feel. How I should react. A happy dance is definitely in the cards. I reach the wall for the last time. It feels good.



My arms are flailing and my legs are dragging behind as I pass the last beach marker. My hands are hitting the sand below. I can stand up and walk in! The smile comes. So does the happy dance! I did it. I did something I never thought possible. Pushed my limits beyond reasonable, and all in the name of service.




In that moment I may have never been more at peace. I did it and no one can ever take that away from me. Next stop: Kilimanjaro.



You can still support Harvey online by clicking here. Thank you!

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Kyle Taylor

Channel Swim Becomes A Dover Marathon

When life hands you lemons but you really need oranges, just make lemonade. That sort-of sums up what happened vis-a-vis my Channel swim. The bags were packed, the crew was on time, but then the darn wind hit 40mph and I was beached.


My pilot wasn't comfortable going Sunday with the wind, and was certain it would carry into Monday and Tuesday as well, which meant my assigned swim window was closed. He had some additional dates at the end of July but unfortunately, I don't have the money to stay and wait for the next month and my Mom and support crew could only be here through the 14th of this month.


I wanted to do something big while they were here for them, for me and for the 4-year old boy who lost both his legs to meningitis who I was swimming for. We had all the Maxim mixed, all the snacks prepped and I was in the mental zone, so I decided to prove something to myself in the Harbour, which has been my worst enemy these past 10 weeks. That way, no matter what happens, I’d have that accomplishment and no one could take it away from me. So swim I did. 25 miles, in fact, and an average crossing of the Channel is usually roughly 22 miles. The water was still freezing (60 degrees, which I braved for nearly 9 hours), the wind was still blowing at 40 mile-an-hour gusts and the water was still rough. The difference - I started and finished on a beach in England. The final feeling - Incredible!


It was so amazing to do it surrounded by family and friends. As many Channel swim regulars have said: this whole experience can be life-changing, and it has been for me as well. I've learned so much about myself and about my motivations. Somewhere along the way it stopped being about getting to France for me and started being about sharing this journey with everyone in my life, beating the cold water and doing all I could to help Harvey run.


I started to realize, in many ways, how selfish this whole thing had become - everyone waiting around for me to swim, spending nearly $3,000 on a pilot boat, sucking the time and energy of everyone around me just so I could say "I swam the Channel." This was supposed to be about challenging myself to do something physically incredible and re-ignite what swimming means to me while raising money for Harvey; a young boy who is in need of so much compared to my - in perspective - rather selfish desire to "say I did it." My decision became clearer and clearer. So, seeing no real opportunity to swim to France for countless reasons (at which point I could have just walked away) I decided to face my personal challenge and donate the $3000 I would have spent to cross the Channel directly to Harvey.


These past 10 weeks have been brutal on me mentally, emotionally and physically. The thought of waiting for something that I felt I no longer needed to do to prove something to myself was just too much. Instead, it had become about the fear of what people would think or say if it became impossible to do it. The politics, the stress and the lack of ability to do anything else had been wearing on me for months. Knowing there was a “third way” to prove to myself what I needed to prove while doing even more for Harvey seemed so “me,” if that makes sense.


That's the story. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone or let any of you down. I am on cloud nine at the moment and totally satisfied with how it went, and that's all I wanted - to beat my fears and help Harvey. I hope I did that, and inspired a few folks along the way. Life is unpredictable but as friends have taught me:


You must adjust to circumstances beyond your control.
You can’t live every day in fear of what others might think.
There is more than one way to do something.
Putting service above self can be an even greater accomplishment than any one feat, larger or small.
Suit, goggle and cap tans can be wildly uneven and rather hilarious.


Additionally, I think we may have invented a new swimming challenge - the Dover Open-Water Marathon: Further than the Channel, 3000 times cheaper, just as cold.



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Kyle Taylor

Swim Set For Sunday - LIVE-UPDATES ON TWITTER!

Just a quick note to let you know I'm heading down to the coast to be prepped for the big swim! From this point forward, you'll be able to check my status on twitter either JUST TO THE RIGHT ON THIS PAGE or directly on my Twitter page at: http://twitter.com/kyletaylor. You can get there by clicking here also.

HERE WE GO!

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Kyle Taylor

UPDATE: It's looking like Sunday

Just a quick update. It's looking like the big swim is going to be on Sunday. No final confirmations just yet (as the weather, tides, etc. could naturally change), but that's the scoop at the moment!

6AM, Folkestone Harbour, England.

It's SO CLOSE! AHHH!!!

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Kyle Taylor

A Little Pre-Swim Pump-Up. MIX IT UP!

How inspiring is that?

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Kyle Taylor

The Final Training Weekend

The jig is up. I don’t like going to Dover to swim in the harbor. It is exhausting, painful, cold and miserable. In fact, I don’t know of anything in my life I have dreaded this much. I can barely sleep the night before because my heart is racing and my mind won’t turn off. Then, after the swim, now that I’m doing 6 hours in the hot sun, I radiate heat for days, sweating right through my clothes while I sit, stand and even sleep. I eat everything in site and since I’m supposed to gain as much weight as possible, this eating usually consists of junk food (which is really not my favorite).

Needless to say, knowing this would be my last weekend of training (and Saturday my last LONG swim), I was both dreading and anticipating the trips down. Fortunately, John (the Rotary Dad) offered to drive me down both days and crash at his place. This is an excellent option, as the food is amazing, the conversation is interesting and the sofas has powered recliners built in.

My other issue is that I like the “big game.” That is, I did 6 on the day I had to do six because I had to do six. On the actual day, I’ll [hopefully] swim to France because I have to swim to France. If you tell me to do something, I’ll just do it. Now, having made my qualifier and not actually enjoying the experience of swimming in the frigid harbor, I just want it all to be over with. Many have asked me, “if you knew what this was going to entail would you still have done it?” I am incredibly tempted to say “no.”

In the end, however, knowing it was my last swim and wanting to prove to myself that I could repeat six hours, I put my head down, got my mind drifting to the next six months (planning each and every day with explicit detail) and I took it one hour at a time. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Unfortunately, the weather isn’t looking to great the next several days, which means I may be swimming toward the end of my tide and not near the beginning. I just want it to happen so I can get on with my life! 10-month build-up, 8 weeks training in Dover and now the waiting game...

Please send me happy thoughts. I’m in desperate need of MANY.

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Kyle Taylor

Dover Update: Weekend 8. “You’ve Got To Do Six

So, unbeknownst to be, the required 6-hour harbor swim “qualifier” must take place two weeks before your actual swim. Fortunately, i found this out the day before the two-week deadline, which meant the pressure was on this past weekend. Fortunately, I had Lianne in tow to keep me going. “You MUST do six hours today,” Michelle told me. “No problem, it’s in the bag,” I replied, “flashing a thumbs up. Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling my best but I knew - knew - it was either six hours or pack it up.


As usual, the first two hours were horrific. That’s the period where the body transitions from normal human temperature to subhuman freezing temperature and you question how on earth you can actually go on. Then, somehow,you just stop getting colder and slowly but surely get used to the frigid conditions. At the two-hour break Louise was there to ask me how I was doing. “Six hours or bust today,” I told her. “That’s the spirit,” she replied. From that point on I decided to view the last four hours as four one-hour swims with hourly feedings as the interval.

I somehow managed to convince my brain of this scheme as well, and from that point on I just had a few hour-long swims to do. The next one would put me half way, the next would be one away from the last feeding, the next would lead to the last feeding then it was just one final hour, which is TOTALLY doable after you’ve swam all that way!


A few notes on this scheme: the body does, in fact, begin to tire and without notice I was moving markedly slower than hours one through four. The water gets rougher as well, making each stroke a touch more difficult. Every now and then your mind drifts to the immensity of the task ahead and screams at you, “FOUR MORE HOURS? ARE YOU MAD?!?!” It is at these points that I incorporate my new, enhanced “overcome this horror” method: I scream out loud under water as loud as I can. It gets the adrenaline flowing, slightly warms me up and forces a refocus of my mind from the heinous activity I am undertaking to this faux notion that I only have a few one-hour swims left. Regardless, it works.

Let me tell you, when I came out after six hours I felt like I could do anything. Climb Everest? Check. Take exams? Check. World Peace? Done Deal. I was BEAMING. Sunday followed with a 4-hour swim that came to an end as a result of major hip pain (it seems to be the only physical pain I get from all of this - the sensation that my hip flexors may in fact fall off. That would NOT be good.


So here I am, a week away and it’s finally feeling real (as well as scary). I mean, it’s really really scary. Nerves. Anxiety. The works. But I’m feeling confident. Hey, if I can do six hours, what’s six more, right? Especially when I get to land in France and do a happy dance.

More soon. For now, think happy thoughts July 3rd to the 7th. I’ll do my best to post the exact date as soon as I know it!

Swim On, Party Player.

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Kyle Taylor

Dover Update: Weekend 7

Good news - exams are over, which means swimming the Channel is now the only item on my life agenda (for the next few weeks). That’s right, for the past 7 weeks I have been studying, exam-ing and training for Dover all at the same time. It has been exhausting, but totally worth it! After a few hick-ups in planning and coordination, we’re on track for a July 4th-7th swim depending on tides, weather and so on!


That said, these past few weekends have been incredibly tough. I got, as they say, “stuck.” What I mean is that, for whatever reason - mental block, psychological fear, exhaustion or just that I have next to no body fat - I wasn’t able to get past three hours. Then, the weekend before last, out of nowhere I skyrocket to four hours and twenty minutes! It was uncanny. As Irene said so well, “you cracked it. It’s all over now. Nothing stops you once you’ve cracked it.” How right she was. I returned Sunday for a whopping FIVE-HOUR swim, bringing my weekend total to over 20 miles. Not too shabby for a guy with bad shoulders and no body fat. “It’s a head game,” Freda told me, “and you just won.”

“You were beaming when you finished five hours Sunday,” Michelle, a former Channel conquerer and now beachside expert said to me. “That smile was just priceless. You are so determined!” Indeed, determined I was, and continued to be the following weekend. More on that in the next entry. In the meantime, here are a few shots of us “feeding.” We come in every hour on the hour starting with hour two for a small cup of energy drink and, when we’re good, a Cadbury’s chocolate roll or Milky Way. I love those breaks!







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Kyle Taylor

Media Mayhem!

Well, it's been a few great weeks for press! A cover story in both a London Paper and a California paper have really boosted our spirits for fundraisiing and awareness! Here they are:

Click here for the US article.

Click here for the UK article.

Click here to donate!


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Kyle Taylor

*Photos by Cindy Yamanaka from the Orange County Register article. Please do not redistribute.

Dover Weekend Four: Three Hours Or Bust

After a week of reprieve from Dover thanks entirely to Carly deciding to get married (I’m sure that was her top reason for getting hitched! Thanks Carly!), I headed back down to Dover to re-embrace the good times. You know, 52-degree water, polluted harbour currents and of course, a rather mixed bag in the weather department. Thankfully, I had two bonuses this time: a cloudless sky and Josh around to dress me post-swim.

I had done two hours in California, where the water was 63 degrees and the waves were much larger. The only reason I stopped, really, was because I was mind-numbingly bored. Naturally, the Dover group had made their most significant distance increase ever, leaping from 90 minutes to 4 hours while I was gone. Super.

If I know anything, it’s my own limits. Wait, I don’t know them at all. Anyway, I was certain I could not reasonably leap from 90 minutes to 4 hours, so I decided on 2.5 hours as a happy medium. I like baby steps. If you know you can do 2, then it’s just 30 more to 2.5 and so on. If you know you can do 2, it’s TWICE AS MUCH to 4. That’s mentally and emotionally defeating when you don’t finish. So important to set reasonable expectations (beyond the fact that weight 160 pounds and have - by far - the lowest BMI (body mass index) of anyone attempting to swim the Channel this year.

This time we added one additional element to training - feeding at two hours and every hour after on liquid energy carbohydrate maximizing explosion of warm goodness. It’s basically spiked gatorade served warm. When you’re shaking violently and have little clue as to where you are in relation to land, water and other people (never mind attempting to find your mouth with your hands), it’s heaven on Earth.


I did my 2.5 on Saturday and ended up getting out because the beach monitor said “oh yeah, he’s freezing. Get out!” I naturally said to him, “I feel like a failure.” He looked at me perplexed. With everyone else doing 4, I wanted to be with the big kids! Josh dressed me (the usual shaking ensued) and we hit the Guest House for some cocoa and a hot shower before lunch and studying (which turned into chit-chat, naturally) before watching the finale of Britain’s Got Talent and calling it a night.

I was determined on Sunday to hit three hours. It felt like a threshold for me, though I’m not sure why. I just really needed that mental boost to get me over whatever hump seemed to exist in my mind about this swim. What’s odd is that after your body is freezing cold, it just becomes about sustaining for however long you’re supposed to go. Part of my issue is that swim quite a bit faster than most, meaning I cover much more “water” in the allotted time. It’s beneficial when there is a fixed distance (England to France) but more difficult when there is a fixed time (training) because I’m using quite a bit of energy when my swim isn’t any shorter than everyone else’s.

The Sunday swim is always easier - you know the water temperature, you know the “settling point” and you know that you can swim at least as long as you did the day before. That said, it’s still freezing. The first 12 minutes are the same - pounding ice cream headache. That evolves into a rather comfortable first hour. The second hour is cold but not unbearable. Post feeding, however, all the muscles in my stomach and legs lock up. My hip flexers start to ache and my jaw becomes permanently stuck in a half-open position. I fight the chattering of my teeth and keep my arms moving so as to ensure they don’t lock up too. The key at this point is to keep my mind busy. The less I think about being cold, the less I want to make for the beach and get out.

At 2.5 hours it really hits me - I am freezing cold. Any movements outside my normal freestyle hurt quite a bit because my muscles aren’t stretched out enough to really move in that direction. “This is go time,” I say to myself. “30 more minutes. You can do this!” I stroke and stroke and stroke. “Just to the wall and back and it’s over. Wall and back and over. You can do this!” My stroke is shortened and I feel like I’m not moving. “Focus and calm down. Stroke. Relax. Stroke.” What feels like only seconds later I am being dragged up the beach by Josh, who is saying to me, “Good job mate. Good job.” I look at my watch: three hours and two minutes. I made it, and it feels good.

Next week it’s four hours or bust. Bring it Channel. Bring it!

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Kyle Taylor

A Rather Elite Club

So now that I’m “in this” for the long haul I’ve been doing more research into the personal stories of folks who made it across in years past. Somewhat embarrassingly, lots of the stories get me all teary-eyed. The determination! The emotion! The overcoming fears! It’s just too inspiring. Here is a link to my favorite story so far. I’ll be posting several here and there as I find them.

The real eye-opener, however, is just how small the “Channel Swim” club is. In total, only 841 people have made it across since the first completion in 1875. That’s fewer people than have climbed Everest. Fewer people than have run the 100-mile Ultra Run. In fact, it’s the most elite extreme athletic challenge on the planet. Will I be number 842? You can be darn sure I’m not stopping by choice. If it’s hypothermia then I have no choice. Otherwise, France, here I come.

Harvey Party!

I had dinner with the Parry family last Sunday just to reconnect and “hang out” before Harvey’s next trip to New York to get his larger set of legs. We had a blast! While he normally doesn’t take to new people (even after several meetings) we seem to get along great! Played hide and seek, tag and “tickle attack,” which is a game I invented that involves tickling in a sort-of “attack” fashion. It’s brilliant. Here are a few more shots of Harvey and I:





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My First Dover Day - I Can’t Feel My Face Part Two

My first reaction being just knee-deep was “oh, this isn’t so bad. Not as biting cold as I thought it was going to be.” With that sense of confidence building inside, I leaned back and lunged forward, diving head first into the water. My face went immediately numb and the onset of a “brain freeze” headache took just minutes. I had to bring my head above water. It felt like it was going to explode. I pulled at the front of the cap to relieve the pressure. This, of course, did nothing. Fortunately my legs were still moving. I did not know this by feeling but by sight. That is, I looked down at my legs and I saw that they were moving. “Good sign,” I thought. I dunked my head back under in an attempt to “get used to” the water temperature. I could only manage three stroked before the pounding sensation in my head swept over me yet again. I looked at my watch. It had been all of three minutes.

The next nine minutes proceeded exactly the same. I know it was exactly nine more minutes because I was looking at my watch every 30 seconds to gauge how many seconds I thought I might have left to live. “I can’t do this,” I kept thinking. “I’ll give all the money back. I’ll explain it all to everyone and they’ll understand. This is unhuman. This can’t be done.” Regardless, I was determined to at least swim to the wall and back. Exactly 12 minutes in I was able to keep my head in the water for 10 strokes at a time. Another 8 minutes and I had gained a sort-of normal stroke, minus the inability to feel my limps or face. Fortunately, I was at the wall and able to turn around and head back in.

Now that I was able to put my head in the water without wanting to die my confidence levels were soaring. Since my primary fear was no longer drowning I was able to notice the next big hurdle - the most disgusting, unhealthy, toxic-looking water I have ever been in. The scum was sticking to my goggles and even the smallest dribble that made it into my mouth was making feel nauseous. And then the dry-heaving started...and kept going for a solid five minutes. “I can’t swallow water. I can’t swallow water. Close your mouth Kyle. Just close your freaking mouth!”

My other conern was a fear of swimming out to sea and not toward the beach, which left me re-aiming myself every three or four strokes, as if I was going to veer wildly off course in a matter of seconds. This led to a new “rule.” Only look after every 100 strokes. This also gave me something to do - count strokes. At this point it has been 35 minutes and just as the lovely woman in charge had estimated, I was roughly five minutes from shore. Naturally, a new problem was emerging. The tips of my fingers and toes were beginning to feel like they were burning, a common sensation when absolute cold sets in. I could feel every nerve in my body as if it was a rope pulled taut between two points. “Just stroke and it will be over,” I say to myself. “100 more strokes. 50 more strokes. 20 more strikes. BOOM!!!” My hand touches sand. I can stand up. Thank goodness, I made it back alive.

“Cap number please,” the keeper asks. I open my mouth and attempt to say “28” but words do not come out - just an inaudible groaning sound. I can’t move my mouth AT ALL. Since I am me I just start to laugh at how insane this entire situation is. Here I am standing in 51-degree water wearing a speedo and a bright orange cap crawling toward land afer having just survived forty minutes of torture attempting to say the number 28 with zero luck. The keeper is looking at me like I am insane. “Are you alright darling? Fran, I’m not sure if this one is alright. Might want to come have a look.” Another woman approaches and helps me to my sandals, asking me questions to determine if I am comatose. “What day is it?” I reply incoherently, saying the correct day in my head but totally unable to transmit that message to my mouth. She can tell that I know but am struggling and half-laughs with me. “Go get dressed before the shaking sets in.” WHAT?

I dart to my bag feeling oddly fine. Not cold, not warm, not tired, just existing. “You better hurry and dress,” the old wise woman tells me. “You won’t be able to coordinate yourself once the shaking starts. Still weary, I do as they say since - as I said earlier - I have NO IDEA what’s going on. Sure enough, just as I had pulled up my boxers and put on my sweatshirt, the shaking begins. Now, I’ve been trying to think of ways to describe the shaking, and this is the best I can come up with: imagine riding a jackhammer non-stop for an hour while trying to do regular things like put on your pants or drink a cup of hot chocolate. That was the next 60 minutes for me - uncontrollable shaking that was - as they say - a “good sign” because it means I didn’t get hypothermia. Brilliant.

A few of us (there were 40 or so folks down on the beach) went for a cocoa and some lunch before I dragged my now normalized body back to the train station, feeling oddly inspired. As silly as it sounds, I felt like I had really accomplished something and all I wanted to do was get back down to the beach, dive back in and give it another go. Am I mad? I think yes.

All in all, I swam just over a mile in that first session - not too shabby.

After further reading it seems it’s not the distance that stops people but the water temperature. The only recommendation they seem to have is to practice in the ocean more, which means I’ll now be spending the weekends in Dover swimming twice on Saturday and twice on Sunday all in the midst of exam season. Am I crazy? Absolutely. Is it worth it? Hey, if Harvey has a fighting chance, absolutely.

As for photos, I had planned to take heaps but got caught up in trying not to die. Needless to say, the best I could do was a shot of the inside of the train. John Thorpe (the Rotary Dad) is coming with me this weekend, so he’ll take lots of snaps of the entire process from undressing to greasing up to fighting off hypothermia to the brilliant shakes. Get excited!

Also, if you can, please support my swim for Harvey by donating online at http://www.kyletaylor.com. Every dollar makes a difference!