A few hours of sleep before the extreme overnight exertion would have been preferable, but jitters kept Alex Robinson ’16 awake. Arriving at the marina at 11 p.m., he then had to endure a 30-minute boat ride — the interval only agitating his butterflies — to reach the starting point for his English Channel swim.
That last half hour of anxiety before entering the cold, inky water in the midnight dark off Dover along the southern England coast? That, in retrospect, might have been the worst part. “It’s pitch black,” Robinson says, “and you have all the nerves in the world.”
Ahead of him, 10 to 12 hours swimming across roughly 21 miles of open water — plus ships, jellyfish and who knows what else — on the way to northern France. Robinson, who swam one season for Notre Dame, spent 18 months preparing, mostly in a pool but also, weather permitting, on a Lake Michigan triathlon training course in Chicago, where he works as a derivatives trader.
To qualify per the universally recognized rules of English Channel swimming, prospective swimmers also must complete a six-hour qualifying swim in water 60 degrees Fahrenheit or below. After a few frigid metaphorical toe-dips, a minute or two in cold tubs, Robinson increased his tolerance to hours in water just above freezing. By the time he reached Dover in late June, he felt as ready as those long icy baths and incalculable laps could have made him.
For the cold and the distance, anyway, if not the aquatic life he might encounter. Lake trout could not prepare him for the sea lions or the channel’s more mysterious sea creatures that preoccupied him as he traversed the murk. “You feel stuff underwater,” Robinson says. “It’s very terrifying.”
With his mother and a couple friends providing encouragement and 500 calories an hour of food and drink from the accompanying boat, Robinson’s adrenaline sustained him at first. He knew it wouldn’t last. Darkness, cold water, the physical strain of stroke after monotonous stroke and the mental burden of the interminable distance would exact a toll.
Plus, the jellyfish. They were not mysterious at all but a luminescent menace that he tried to dodge at first. After a few stings, he just took it. Antihistamines helped, his crew crushing some pills into the replenishing drinks they provided at regular intervals.
“I also think that, just by human nature, you know, you’re in so much misery and pain that your mind just kind of like wanders off to the next problem,” Robinson says. “So, the jellyfish were the initial problem. And then I started getting pretty bad chafing on my right shoulder. That was the next problem.”
Then he felt a headache coming on, another nuisance in a litany of what he came to consider almost welcome diversions from thinking about the scale of the undertaking. “In some sick way, these little problems are blessings, right?”
Make it to sunrise, Robinson told himself. Two days after the summer solstice, that would come before 5 a.m., or about halfway to France. Rejuvenating daylight and a modicum of warmth — regulations allow channel swimmers to wear only ordinary swim trunks, no wetsuits — would be his reward.
In the morning light, France becomes visible in the distance. A misleading distance. Not that far to all appearances but still several hours away, a view best avoided. Notice the coast once, then glance up again a couple hours later only to feel like you’ve been treading water.
After a while, treading water itself became a challenge. Most of Robinson’s brief pauses to refuel involved drinking sugar water because “you’d be amazed how difficult it is to chew when you’re exhausted.” Lifting anything to his mouth proved difficult enough with ever-heavier arms. His family and friends in the boat tried to offer some variety now and then, gummy worms or other snacks intended to be treats, but a liquid diet became the path of least resistance.
As previous channel swimmers warned, Robinson’s attentive and supportive crew started to drive him a little nuts. From the water he would hear concerned check-ins — How do you feel? Is your shoulder OK? Are you getting enough to eat? — and struggle to summon the energy to reply. “I think I was pretty annoyed at them,” he says, “despite them going out of their way to help me.”
Through all the difficulties and indignities, Robinson never doubted he would finish. A favorable tide and weather conditions buoyed his spirits, combined with the reassurance of his own training. Vacations had been devoted to preparation, after-work happy hours had been declined, all to fulfill this bucket-list ambition. When he allowed himself to look up and see his destination on the horizon, he savored the rest of the journey as best he could through the fog of fatigue.
“Definitely it was painful and miserable the last couple of hours,” Robinson says, “but I tried to think about all the people that helped me, all the effort I put in to accomplish this. And I actually really enjoyed the last hour.”
Well, maybe not all of it. Cap Gris-Nez is the finishing location, the closest point to Dover. The final hundred yards or so requires churning through violent waves known as the “cap slap,” followed by a slippery walk across a promontory of sharp rocks — “I got cut up pretty bad, I fell a couple times” — to the official finish. Robinson reached that milestone in 11 hours and three minutes.
Jubilation washed over him, followed hard by undiluted exhaustion. He had envisioned a Champagne-popping celebration on the ride back to Dover. Instead, “I got back on the boat, and I was asleep, passed out on the ground within like five minutes.”
A few weeks respite from his training regimen was all he allowed himself. He has more miles to swim toward the so-called Triple Crown of open-water swimming — the English Channel, 28 miles around Manhattan (the longest but fastest because of currents) and 20 miles between the California mainland and Santa Catalina Island. Robinson has Manhattan planned for October with Catalina on deck in July 2025.
At least two other Notre Dame alumni have performed the feat — Sara Marley ’90, who finished the circuit in 2018, and Patrick McKnight ’88, who completed all three swims in 2016 within 34 days, the shortest time frame on record at that time. Back to training by late summer, Robinson felt revived and determined to add his name to the list.
“I think I already have the mental aspect down. I just need to take a couple of months to get back to feeling good in the water,” he says, “and I think I’ll be good to go.”
Jason Kelly is editor of this magazine.