They pulled her from the water and told her to quit. She was hypothermic, delirious, and had been swimming for 9 hours. She looked at them and said: "What for?"

August 6, 1926. The English Channel—one of the most treacherous bodies of water in the world. Twenty-one miles of frigid water, brutal currents, and jellyfish that could paralyze a swimmer with their sting.
Gertrude Ederle was about to attempt what no woman had ever accomplished.
She was 20 years old. And everyone told her she would fail.
Five men had successfully swum the Channel since 1875. Dozens of others had tried and been pulled from the water, defeated by hypothermia, exhaustion, or the relentless currents that could push swimmers miles off course.
No woman had ever made it across.
Many doctors of the era believed women's bodies were physically incapable of the feat—that they lacked the strength and endurance for such extreme athletic performance. Some said attempting it was dangerous, even deadly for women.
Gertrude thought that was nonsense.
She'd grown up in New York City, the daughter of German immigrants who ran a butcher shop. As a young child, she'd contracted measles, which damaged her hearing. By her teens, she was partially deaf.
But in the water, none of that mattered.
She started swimming competitively at age 13. By 15, she'd set her first world record. At the 1924 Paris Olympics, she won a gold medal as part of the U.S. 400-meter freestyle relay team, plus two bronze medals in individual events.
But Olympic pools were controlled environments. The English Channel was chaos.
In 1925, Gertrude made her first attempt to cross the Channel. She was pulled from the water just seven miles from the French coast after her trainer thought she was struggling and grabbed her—which automatically disqualified her under Channel swimming rules.
She was furious. She hadn't wanted to stop.
In 1926, she tried again.
This time, she had a new strategy. She coated herself in lanolin—sheep grease—and petroleum jelly to protect against the cold and jellyfish stings. She wore a two-piece swimsuit and swimming goggles (which were new technology at the time). She brought a support boat with her trainer, her sister, and her father.
At 7:05 AM on August 6, she waded into the water at Cape Gris-Nez, France.
The conditions were terrible from the start. Heavy seas. Strong currents. By hour three, she was being pushed drastically off course. The 21-mile straight route was becoming 35 miles of zigzagging through brutal waves.
By hour nine, she was visibly struggling. Her trainer, worried she was becoming delirious, told her to quit.
Gertrude's response became legendary: "What for?"
She kept swimming.
The sea grew rougher. Rain began to fall. The waves were so violent that her father, watching from the support boat, begged her to stop.
She kept swimming.
At one point, she started singing to herself—her trademark move to maintain rhythm and morale. Through jellyfish stings, through exhaustion, through water so cold it should have shut her body down.
She kept swimming.
Fourteen hours and 39 minutes after she started, Gertrude Ederle pulled herself onto the beach at Kingsdown, Kent, England.
She'd done it. The first woman to swim the English Channel.
But she'd done more than that.
She'd beaten the existing men's record by nearly two hours. The previous record holder, Enrique Tiraboschi, had completed the swim in 16 hours and 33 minutes. Gertrude's time was 14 hours and 39 minutes.
The first woman to cross the Channel was also the fastest person—male or female—to ever do it.
When she returned to New York, two million people lined the streets for her ticker-tape parade. President Calvin Coolidge called her "America's best girl." She became one of the most famous athletes in the world overnight.
But the English Channel had exacted its price.
The combination of the frigid water, the extended time swimming, and the damage from the 1925 and 1926 attempts severely worsened Gertrude's hearing loss. By her late 20s, she was almost completely deaf.
She tried to maintain her swimming career, but injuries and the hearing loss made it increasingly difficult. She taught swimming to deaf children for years, performed in aquatic shows, and lived quietly in New York.
By the time she died in 2003 at age 98, most Americans had forgotten her name.
But in 1926, she'd proved something the world needed to hear: that women's bodies weren't fragile. That women could endure what men could endure. That "impossible" was just a word people used before someone did it anyway.
Five men had crossed the Channel in 51 years. Gertrude became the first woman—and beat all their times.
When they tried to pull her from the water and told her to quit, she asked: "What for?"
Because quitting wasn't in her vocabulary. Because she knew she could do it. Because someone had to be first.
And Gertrude Ederle decided it would be her.
She spent 14 hours and 39 minutes in water cold enough to kill. She swam 35 miles through currents and jellyfish and waves that battered her relentlessly. She did it partially deaf, mostly alone, and completely determined.
And she emerged on an English beach as the fastest person alive to cross one of the world's most dangerous stretches of water.
They said women couldn't do it.
Gertrude said: "What for?"
And then she did it anyway—faster than any man ever had.

read the full article and see the picture @ Facebook