There is no other way to say it: Many parts of a long distance swim—of any extreme sport perhaps—are, as my old granny used to say, “not pretty.” Often in the aftermath of many miles, the transition from one churning element (the water) to another (the boat) results in nausea, shortlived but severe. This time Diana spent more than an hour vomiting off the aft deck of the Bellissimo, the biggest boat housing the crew, where she was transported after being taken from the water. Carried up the steps to a chair in her robe, she leaned her head against the railing wordlessly, still having difficulty breathing. In between her dry heaves, the doctor took her vitals as Alyce Torsden, a retired nurse, wrote them down. Mark Sollinger, a new, good friend with whom Diana spent many hours philosophizing and soul-searching through this past spring and early summer of training, never left her side.

After what seemed a long time (but then in endurance events time does lose its ordinary meaning), supported on both arms Diana walked almost on her own two feet to the sofa in the main cabin to lie down. Right away, the tears began, another feature of the aftermath being emotional release. So long tethered to will yet spiritually widening, the heart of the distance swimmer roars in the water then overflows on land. No wonder the ancients could conceive of the rivers and oceans created by gods and demigods in human form. I could almost imagine it.

There too, on the sofa, she spilled her guts, this time with words, and a lot, but maybe not enough. Soon after being assured that, no, she did not let us down, that this was not a failure at all, that it’s easy to succeed at easy things but truly inspiring to set your sights on the seemingly impossible and then actually achieve more than half of it, Diana regained her composure. “So I’m disappointed, but proud, is that it?” she ventured. Yes, yes, I nodded, trying not to show how elated I felt to have her back with us again, alive, wanting to live and to do so without permanent impairment.

Now I wonder if we aren’t doing her a disservice, especially me, by wanting her to rebound so quickly and completely to match the state of pride and clarity and fearlessness her performance inspires in ourselves. Diana Nyad is in mourning. Among us, she is the world-class athlete still, as she was so many years ago. World-class even at the age of 61 and she wanted to show the world. More than that, she wanted to experience that state in this swim, to be the beautiful swimmer she is, from shore to shore. Just one more time, to feel what her body could do over these magical waters; to make the connection between continents; to show that we are nothing without connection, and that those clockwise and counterclockwise gyres caused by wind over continents separate unto themselves are currents that can be crossed, if we decide to. And if we get a break.

– @Candace Lyle Hogan, August 11, 2011