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Quote by Stephen Richards

“One quarter of a mile is, in metric terms, about 400 metres. I believe the world record for a man to cover this distance by use of his legs is about forty something seconds. At that time, I would have bet any amount of money that I would have beaten the world record at that distance as I sprinted like a tornado across the open farmer’s fields.”

Quote by Stephen Richards

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Psycho Steve

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Stephen Richards

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“The sea was washing me crosswise and the speed of my strokes pushed me forward, but at a slower pace than the sideways wash. The float that I had tied around my chest was more of a hindrance as it was caught in the tide and floated sideways on the current, it should have been strung out behind me as I swam onwards. This extra effort was making huge demands on my oxygen requirement, I breathed harder and had to avoid intakes of seawater.”

“I know people have swum the 3.5 mile stretch of the Solent from the Isle of Wight to the mainland for charity, and some just for the hell of it in the Cross Solent Swim, but this was at night, in the dark and without the help of a nearby boat to haul me in to safety. I didn’t have the benefit of tidal maps, accompanied swimming mates in near perfect conditions or the likes. I only my strength of determination and the beckoning lights on the mainland to aim for.”

“I could feel my legs folding and unfolding like powerful scissors, pushing against the very power that was trying to hold me back. I had to maintain control of myself, not allow the sea to intimidate me. If this was a binding exercise then the sea and I would be firm friends, but I couldn’t allow it to be my equal. I screamed out aloud, ‘I will not be beaten, you bastard!’ Then I wondered how many people this sea had claimed as its own, how many were recovered dead and how many survived the hidden brutality?”

“I find these days that all I want for Rayya anymore—if you can be said to want anything for somebody who has been dead for more than six years—is that she be free. Utterly and totally free. “True love always liberates the beloved,” says my friend Martha Beck, and only now do I feel that I understand the generous, unfettered spirit behind these words. I want Rayya to be free from the need to take care of me or anybody else—even from beyond the grave. I want her to be free to vanish into the eternal mystery with all her ancestors, and to become music—because that is what she always wanted to be. And I can feel that Rayya wants me to be free, too. She wants me to live autonomously and happily and peacefully on this side of the divide— in a world that I have finally come to accept as my own, and from which I am no longer trying to escape. (It’s not such a bad world, actually, once you surrender to reality, and once you finally start showing up for your own care.)”