Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [68]
It took him by surprise, but he smiled, and so did the entire research team.
“We’re ready when you are,” Dr. Drinkwater said, smiling confidently at me.
Nodding and focusing inward, I climbed down the steps into the tank. In seconds my feet went numb, then my calves, and my entire body tightened. It was so cold it hurt. Pushing myself, I took another step down. Now I was immersed to my waist, and my breathing was rapid, my eyes wide open. Remembering to pull my goggles down over my eyes, I stopped and looked at the water. Forty-two degrees was a lot colder than anything I’d ever swum in before; it took my breath away. My legs were aching. Stepping down onto the next rung, I was immersed to my shoulders and focusing hard to bring my breathing back to normal. “Lynne, you doing okay?” Dr. McCafferty asked.
I knew that once I put my face in the water, my heart would slow down and in a minute or two I would gain control over my breathing and get back into a natural rhythm.
Dr. McCafferty followed me down the stairs to make sure all the lines remained untangled. He winced when the water reached his waist, and I wanted to laugh. He smiled at me and reminded me, “Take your time. Remember that you’re accustomed to walking into the water slowly. Let your body gradually adjust to the temperature change.”
Dipping my chin in the water, I let it go numb, then immersed my lips. I told myself to put my nose in very slowly. There is a nerve in the nose called the vagus nerve. It’s what triggers a response called the diver’s reflex. When someone falls suddenly into extremely cold water, this nerve is stimulated and can cause the heart to suddenly stop beating. So I dipped in the tip of my nose, then ever so slowly placed my face in the water. It was like pressing my face against a block of ice.
My goggles were fogging up. Dr. McCafferty took them off and licked them for me—the protein in saliva inhibits fogging—and then put them back over my eyes. “You okay?” he asked again.
I nodded and he climbed out of the tank; then I started swimming. Tethered on every side by leads, probes, a mouthpiece, and the army belt, I felt as if I were trapped inside a spider’s web. Batting the leads away with my hands, I tried to make room for my arms to move, but I couldn’t turn them over as quickly as normal.
“Five minutes,” Dr. McCafferty shouted, looking at his stopwatch.
It had seemed like fifteen; it had seemed like forever. And I was feeling a little claustrophobic.
The water was so cold that my arms were completely numb. When I pulled, I couldn’t feel anything. I was so frustrated. I knew then that there was no way I could swim for an hour. But I told myself to break it down into smaller pieces, to think not in terms of an hour, but of five-minute blocks. In theory, that should have worked, but I didn’t know if I could last for even another five minutes. I was discouraged. How could I even consider swimming the Strait of Magellan if I couldn’t last more than five minutes in forty-two-degree water? Focus. Keep going. Count your strokes to one thousand. Okay, again.
Lifting my head, I heard Dr. McCafferty say, “You’ve been in for twenty minutes.”
That was all I could stand. Putting my hand up, I knew I couldn’t go any further. I was just too cold. Dr. McCafferty and Dr. Drink-water grabbed me under the arms when I reached the top of the stairs; Anne held on to all the leads. Someone threw a towel over my shoulders, and Dr. Drinkwater asked me if I could stay in the room for a bit while they finished gathering all the gases and data. Unable to talk with the mouthpiece still in, I nodded. I was so disappointed. My time in the water had been brief.
Dr. McCafferty was right beside me. “You did a great job. Really amazing,” he said.
I was shaking