Lynne Cox was her name. With long, persistent strokes, the stouthearted athlete pressed forward, eventually losing sight of the United States. She wore an ordinary swimsuit and bathing cap; incredibly no wet suit — only protective grease. In those 38°F waters, hypothermia might have been expected to overwhelm her, but she appeared immune to the cold. Steadily and forcefully, Lynne propelled herself through the choppy waters dancing about her, and after what seemed an interminable time, her feet finally scraped the rocky bottom. She was in Russia; she had made it. That the thirty-year-old succeeded in her goal was an unbelievable feat. Warmly bundled psychologists who monitored the swim from the comfort of the accompanying boat were as astonished as was the admiring public in Russia and the United States after they heard the news. In May 1990, at a White House summit conference, Presidents Reagan and Gorbachev raised a toast to the indefatigable Lynn, who “proved by her courage how closely to each other our peoples live.”
