Que Sera Sera

On By survivingsixtyIn Living life to the full, long-covid, outdoor swimming, Setting and achieving goals, swim camps4 Comments

When this blog started, I recorded all my swims – date, location, water and air temperature, time in water, distance swum… there’s a special a swim notebook and it was all colour coded! Sad, I know…

I swam every week, both in the pool, and outside with several West and South Yorkshire groups, and most days on holidays I was in sea/lake/river. At the end of the year there was a tally. 2019 was a cracker – 32km in the pool, 21 sea swims, 25 ‘wild’ swims, 68 SwimYourSwim (SYS) swims… and a lowest water temperature of 3.20C.  Of course there was a lot less swimming in 2020, didn’t bother counting 2021, 2022 brought covid … and a vague incomplete swim record which stopped completely in January 2023.  I’d bought a wetsuit and was still swimming, but far less often. Limited by a combination of poor fitness, fatigue, breathlessness and cold intolerance – which all vary day-to-day, distance became irrelevant. By the summer, on a good day, with a pal swimming alongside, I managed up to 1km.  But not very often.

Priorities have changed… it’s no longer all about challenges! Now, swimming is about enjoying the moment, relaxing into the water, and absorbing the delight of being outside and aware of my surroundings. I did have some brilliant swims in 2023. The fresh joy of skins swimming with SYS friends in Loch Tay & Loch Lubnaig. Blissful summer swims in the North Sea and peaceful happy holiday lake swims with the Longsuffering Husband. The SYS Lanzarote swim camp in October brought another week of gorgeous sea swims, and lots of messing about and chatting while cooling off in clear, fish filled water (despite missing Swimmy Pal every day thanks to covid preventing her flying out with me).  After all the hard work with the LC physio, pulmonary rehab team, and OT, I managed all but one of the coached pool sessions (unlike 50% the year before) – only skipped a session after an ace day out on an ebike! Lots of opportunity for rest helped, but I came home encouraged and more confident – and started going to winter coaching.

Winter outdoor swimming was embraced less enthusiastically! On a dreary damp day it’s easier to avoid swim opportunities than faff about with undressing and dressing. I’m beginning to realise that new me makes decisions about swimming (or not) based on location and company, weather and facilities. Its no longer about bagging as many swims and as much distance as possible. Its about relishing the sensations – whatever they may be.

In December, LH & I volunteered on the SYS winter swim camp in the Cairngorms. On the way up we had two nights in Pitlochry. We were both a bit stunned when I couldn’t resist a dip in beautiful Loch Faskally at the end of a walk – despite having no kit. No – you don’t get a photo of me in my pants!

Green Loch – a walk from the camp

The camp was located on the shore of Loch Morlich, and in the short distance from Pitlochry, the weather and view transformed. We arrived in deep snow, surrounded by glorious views. Utterly stunning. Two groups of swimmers came to the camp, dippers, and people aiming to attempt an ice mile (IM) or IM qualifier. This involved swimming 1mile or 1km in just a swimsuit, goggles and swim hat. When we arrived, the loch temperature was just under 4C. Brutal! The forecast was for temperatures down to -10 overnight. Sadly this meant treacherous roads and icy footpaths, and for safety, dips were confined to Loch Morlich.  Plus, all the extreme ice swims had to happen on the first day… before the loch froze over.  We were warm and cosy, waiting indoors to help swimmers warm up. The other safety crew members were outside in freezing temperatures all day. I’m in awe of people who train for extreme cold swims. By the time the last swimmer exited the water, the loch temperature had dropped to 2.7C and the air to -5! How can you swim a mile in those temperatures? 5 successful Ice Miles at the camp were officially ratified. Wow. I’ve never been remotely interested in taking part in extreme sports, but it’s a privilege to be involved in even the smallest way in supporting someone to become the oldest ice miler in the world. Imagine setting yourself that goal. Training for years and then waiting for conditions to be right (living in Devon it’s hard to find water below 5C).

The next day was beautiful. Blummin cold, but gorgeous. Sunshine peeped through snowy peaks creating a wondrous double image of forests and mountains in the freezing loch. Most of the camp tramped across the snow (aka beach) and after a kind gent broke the ice with a mallet, I waded into the arctic water and stood, awestruck by the glory of my surroundings. A brief swim provided the grounding and peace needed at that moment. Even LH dipped – unable to resist the call of such a precious moment.

Once again, I’m reminded that we limit ourselves by what we think we can’t do, rather than looking at what we can do, and what we might achieve with a bit of effort. Its easy to sit on the sofa watching Christmas films, not so easy to keep fit and active and healthy. Time to start being positive again. In November I set two goals – to keep swimming through winter (with a wetsuit if necessary) and have another go at Global Care’s #50milesin30days walking challenge.  The Saturday before Christmas, I staggered out of bed, ‘encouraged’ by LH, “You won’t feel so grumpy after a swim…” He was right, great decision… mood improved, super company. Then somehow, in the process of removing neoprene socks and gloves, I injured my finger. A trip to A&E confirmed a diagnosis of mallet finger – and 6 weeks in a finger splint. I can only take the splint off to clean/ dry it/ finger. No possibility of wearing neoprene gloves… and I’d need help to put on/ take off socks… and redress the finger.  I remind myself that what will be will be, live in the moment – and other ‘helpful’ mindfulness quotes.

I’m focussing on the walking challenge, that’s going to be hard enough. But if Jerrie can swim an ice mile at 73 years old, this LC recovering 65 year old body can walk 80 km in January!

And, I’ve broken one of my all-time swim records: lowest swim temperature, December 2023, Loch Morlich 0.5C, air temp, -7C. That’ll do nicely for 2023…

Photo credits Tom Heyes & Angela Davison

Out of Control

On By survivingsixtyIn long-covid, outdoor swimming, power and control4 Comments

Warning – contains references to abuse/assault

I’ve been thinking about power… the power of nature to heal and repair, the power of rest to calm and restore, the power of family to love and empower, the power of friendship to comfort and challenge – and the abuse of power that humiliates, harms, breaks, coerces, and even destroys.  

The truth is hard. Every time another person in a position of power is accused of abuse, it itches a scar in my life. It’s not something many people know about – they don’t need to.  It carries guilt and shame, not just pain. Forty years ago, when I was pregnant with my first child, I was sexually assaulted by my GP…. There, I’ve written it down. Can’t take it back.  I was young, innocent, ignorant – but I knew something wasn’t right. I tried to change doctor, was told it would be too difficult. My husband was working 80 hour weeks, on call every other night and weekend … didn’t tell him everything, just asked questions to reassure myself it wasn’t my imagination. I confided in an older female friend who supported me to get to the birth (we’ll call her Mary). After the birth, it started again & I confided in Mum, who was staying to help us. She chaperoned me at every visit, refused to leave when asked … and it ended. But then I developed an infection and refused a home visit from that GP…  While arranging mine and the baby’s admission to hospital, we were told by another GP that reporting what had happened, or making a fuss, would ruin my life – and make it impossible for my husband to get any work locally.  We buckled under the pressure and changed GP practices. Out of their control. To my horror, Mary asked if it was OK to tell someone else what had happened … because another woman had come to her with a similar story about the same GP.

I’m not writing this to shock or look for ‘sympathy’ – or because it still has the power to upset me. It doesn’t really. It’s a scar not an open wound. Its part of who I am, my history, and learning to live with it. Yes, I’ve had counselling – but it is dealt with. It just itches sometimes and reminds me that I (we) allowed ourselves to be coerced and controlled in more ways than one.  If we could go back 40 years, we’d make a formal complaint. It’s an excuse – but it was a different time, different expectations… I don’t particularly want to talk about it – it’s done, not the guilt and shame at doing nothing about it, but the abuse. This is more about understanding that sometimes people have gone through things you’ll never know about. We all have life scars… It’s about treating people with love, kindness and compassion when they’re having a bad day. Never, oh never, abuse any power – and if I see it, I’ll call it out. I can’t possibly understand your situation, but I know what it’s like to feel powerless and confused, to know something is wrong but be afraid to do anything about it. I’ll listen. Sometimes I get angry – I’m very angry at the minute. Angry not just about the abusers, but the escalation of abuse that leads powerful people to cover it up – for whatever reason. While the news headlines historical assaults against women or men, understand why I’m thrashing out laps of the lake in cold water, or cycling further and faster.

So let’s get back to positive power that brings wholeness and healing… I have a long covid Occupational Therapist now (told you – Barnsley NHS is incredible!).  And the slow progression and improvement is on an uphill trajectory.  I walk, ebike (thank you battery) and swim further and longer every month before I get breathless – and then with rests, keep going. The secret? Its where the blog started, with the power of rest and nature, love and friendship. We’ve swum and walked in the Lake District, Northumberland, North Yorkshire, Kent, and Wales, this summer – and oh what a joy. Nothing beats a cool swim at Brotherswater, a sunset dip at Hauxley, splashing in the waves with a toddler at Filey, swimming laps in a sea pool, and Bala in the sunshine – utter bliss!

Swimming in cold water takes over all senses – there’s no time to think and reflect. It’s the same cycling off road when concentration is focussed on not falling off. And that’s a good thing. Sometimes I lose myself in the cold or avoiding the mud. It changes perspective, opens me up to enjoying life and seeing nature in all its facets. Swimming in warmer waters is an extension of my newfound reliance on mindfulness – the rhythm of stroking through silky water, the soothing sounds of birds and other swimmers’ chatter, the majesty of distant peaks, the glorious solitude of mountain lakes. It resets my mind and body – brings recovery from stress and tension. A grandson shrieking with glee as he’s lifted over waves brings joy and overwhelming love. The lake is a place to relax and enjoy what I can do – not what I can’t. It brings gratitude for what I have and who I am. It reminds me of the privilege of strong friendships – the pal who offers to swim at half his usual speed to encourage me round the bigger loop on the lake, and tells me I’m taking less breaks to catch my breath. The friends who take me on a boat to guide a blind swimmer down the length of Windemere (yes, she did it again, this time swimming alone – that is one awesome lady!). Who encourage me to volunteer at events and give me jobs they know I’ll manage – but push me when I need challenging.  My family and friends who swim, walk and cycle with me, getting me out when its not fatigue that’s stopping me but my attitude or laziness.

That’s where the real power lies.  

I’m off to Lanzarote again next week for another swim camp with mates, and I’m stronger, fitter and so much more able to manage fatigue and low mood than I was last year.  Swimmy Pal is coming – very exciting! Let’s change the story – use power to build and mend, to encourage and bring hope, and recognise it when it’s happening. Let’s watch out for each other and be kind and grateful. And remember – the skies and views, the air and water, the hills and forests – they all have the power to heal if you let them.

Photo credits to Tom Heyes (Bala, Brotherswater) and Ruth Evans (Filey)

Setting goals, winter swimming… and sewage

On By survivingsixtyIn long-covid, outdoor swimming, post lockdown choices, Retirement, Setting and achieving goals, Surviving sixty, volunteering, Water pollution, winter swimming2 Comments

Hurray.. I’m definitely improving, and wholeheartedly embracing every walk, swim, and (indoor) cycle. Recovery may be slow … but alongside is the realisation that a fresh start is a good thing.  The need for daily rests gives plenty of time to think about what I want to do with non-rest hours. I’ve finally realised life is about choice… I’m a slow learner! The physio said its time to start getting fit again – slowly and in a controlled way, and time to set short-term goals. The first choice – what goals? I’m beginning to grasp the concept of choice in daily life… decisions can start with rumination on what I ‘could’ do, not immediately choosing what I perceive I ‘should’ do. What goals could I set?’ I’m choosing what’s right for me, setting my own rules, and having a darn good time.

Goal One: Get back in the pool.

I miss winter pool swimming.  I used to swim several times a week, but slow crawl is so antisocial, and I stop a lot with breathlessness – which lane would I choose?  I decided to try SwimYourSwim (SYS) coached pool sessions.  I loved them in Lanzarote. It’s brilliant…  just enjoying swimming and being helped to improve technique – wrecked by panicking about breathing. I come home smiling, even though its hard work, and already I’m swimming ‘better’ and for longer. √

Goal Two (as suggested by the physio): increase time on the exercise bike.

I’ve doubled my time and slightly increased resistance and distance in three weeks. √

Goal Three: Walk at least 3 times a week. … or 2 walks with one longer and some uphill. √

Goal Four: Swim outside (no distance or time – just swim outside).

It’s easier to stay in bed than drive 45 minutes for a 10 minute swim, or stay warm and snug rather than strip off in the car park for a short afternoon swim on a cold day. To complicate the situation, after several weeks of not swimming, I came home miserable – but not motivated to swim the next week.

When The Boss asked if I was free to join the team supporting the Scottish Winter Swimming Championships (SWSC) it didn’t take long to say yes. SYS provide safety and I’d be helping with registration. The Boss said they’d look after me! I’d have a chair, could take rests when needed, and have a lift to the event.  As we arrived at the venue, I knew it would be a great weekend, the location is absolutely stunning.  Once it started, there were hundreds of happy swimmers. Personal challenges were completed, some events were swum in silly hats – joyful.  I watched Olympic & commonwealth swimmers, & met ice swimming legends. Some of my mates won medals. A fantastic atmosphere, and fabulous being with people I haven’t seen for ages.  Working with the SwimWild team was a great way to make new friends.

While the others worked with few breaks (we did take them tea and lunch), the Saturday registration team (me and He Who Everyone Wants to Talk To) had a relatively free afternoon. Armed with a gifted pass to the adjacent hot tub, we set off to achieve my fourth goal.  As the reflections of snow-capped mountains shimmered on the lake in the last rays of the day’s sun, we stepped into the crystal clear 5c water of Loch Tay.  No wetsuit in sight – this water called for bare skin (well… apart from a swimsuit and neoprene clad hands and feet obviously). Absolutely lush. Slow breaststroke arms gliding through the sparkling surface, the rush of cold – I laughed and shrieked with glee. Wonderful. Even the slight guilt at bunking off while the others worked didn’t stop me shouting up to Boss Lady who was taking a photo of the stunning view! It was the perfect place to break the outdoor swimming abstention. We warmed up soaking in the hot tub, idly chatting to competitors who we’d registered at the event in the morning.  Goal achieved. √

Consider a new goal? Campaign for safe water…

The next day, more of the team packed swimming kit, planning an afternoon swim. After another brilliant morning of swimming races and jollity, everything changed. Lunch was eaten at the end of the jetty beside the ‘pool’ area.  The safety and timing teams descended the ramp and settled into their positions at the sides of the pool area. Competitors began to head towards us. Those of us at the top of the ramp grumbled about the appalling smell.  It was more noticeable today, and getting worse – having been repeatedly reported since Wednesday. Then… we noticed raw sewage appearing below us. Pumping into the loch! While the safety crew rushed into action, stopped anyone coming down the jetty, and informed the organisers & marina owners, it kept pumping out (fortunately no one was in the water). One of the most disgusting things I’ve ever witnessed. As we watched in horror, decisions were taken. The event had to be stopped, lane ropes and ladders taken out of the water before they were contaminated, and the sewage stopped from spreading.  Teamwork kicked in and help was offered. The rest of the event was cancelled. The marina thought it would be safe to swim after 24 hours…. Really?! Most online advice from around the world suggests waiting 48-72 hours after sewage discharge before going anywhere near the water.

The SYS safety crew, SwimWild team and several extra volunteers and friends worked for hours, packing kit away and clearing up – all done with professionalism and concern for the safety and wellbeing of the swimmers and volunteers. The reaction from those responsible for the leakage and the people supposedly protecting our water was, in contrast, beyond disappointing. And here’s a thought… What goes on when no one is looking? What about the huge ecosystem in the Loch? What about unaware swimmers, paddle boarders, boaters …..  My photos are so awful I don’t want to put one here – too graphic, and its hard writing about it. My blog is supposed to be a place to write about positivity, be life affirming & encouraging… but we have to face reality – people do this and try to minimise the impact. And make excuses.

It was heartening to see that the hundreds of people who had a fantastic two days, unanimously applauded SwimWild for the brilliant event and for deciding to cancel. The event photos continue the ‘joyous’ theme. Illegitimi non carborundum.

More goal four – how to make the best from a s**t situation.

With the event cancelled, we had a whole day to get home. After unanimously deciding to avoid swimming in Loch Tay, we returned to Yorkshire via Loch Lubnaig.  Our drive past semi-frozen Loch Tay looking glorious in the sunshine, miles away from the marina, with snowy mountains for company, helped remove the awful images lingering in our minds.  Our swim spot was gorgeous, our swim magnificent. Missed races were swum (ice fly), peace and joy were briefly restored (social media was ablaze with sewage debate when our phones went back on in the cars).  

A perfect end to the weekend – an ice cold swim with friends in a mountain Loch, followed by a bacon butty in the sunshine… and all short-term goals achieved. 

This won’t put people off swimming in rivers, lakes and seas. I’m sure it won’t be the end of SWSC. But.. it’s time we started shouting louder about the lack of enforceable legislation, and called out companies and organisations who really have no care or thought for water quality or water wildlife – or people’s enjoyment of our island’s waterways and seas.

I’m off to choose the next lot of short-term goals – which will definitely include outdoor swimming.

With a little help from my friends, an island in the sun, and a wetsuit.

On By survivingsixtyIn Living life to the full, long-covid, outdoor swimming, Surviving sixty, swim camps, winter swimmingLeave a comment

Three things prompted this blog…

  1. Went to add a swim to swimming diary in January – last entry dated October 8th.
  2. Struggling with ‘skins’ in increasingly cold water – bought a breaststroke wetsuit.
  3. Broke favourite coffee mug – a gorgeous @swimwild drawing gifted by Swimmy Pal. Damage defeated Husband who Glues Everything. Bought new mug – beach huts picture.

Hmmm – not quite so swimming focussed – and the end of 4 years of cossie winter swimming.

So what happened?

October started brilliantly… a week with SwimYourSwim (SYS) in Lanzarote! We had two coached pool sessions each day – I hoped it would kickstart fitness recovery. However, initial gusto was quickly tempered by the reality that completing a full morning session would wipe me out for the rest of the day. Still not learnt… despite 8 months of increasing awareness of post-covid limitations – doh! After two days of attempting morning swims, and an exhausting short walk to the town beach (at the back of the pack – thanks for keeping me company TB), I settled for a sunbathe, and watched the rest of the camp go for a ‘proper’ swim. The sea looked inviting – I had a blissful soak and short swim… and started relaxing.

In pool sessions, Coach Crosby was marvellous… encouraging me to stop when breathless, adapting drills – but also motivating and challenging me. My lane buddies were great too – being flexible when I needed a rest or was slow to move. But, on the third day, I woke up wrecked, and sensibly skipped the morning swim. Utterly frustrated, after breakfast, I started looking up flights home for the next day. Major meltdown on the phone to Himself – received motivational and emotional support talk. I’d ditched all my coping strategies and pacing advice. Wisely decided not to book flight. I needed an attitude change! That afternoon, I managed 50 mins and thoroughly enjoyed it. Told you I’m slow to learn.

Walking to the bar that evening, I started taking notice of our surroundings, stopping to look at the view. Mountains on one side, rolling waves on the other. Perched on a rock looking out over the sea – how had I missed this? A tiny beach just outside the complex gates – mostly covered at high tide but a quick tide times check suggested the following morning would be perfect. Totally wrapped up in introspection, I’d forgotten where I was… on an island, in the sun!

Next morning I took a cuppa and camera to the pool at 8.30 – and had fun (despite reprimand for distracting swimmers when trying to take candid shots!). Yay, involved in session – sorry Coaches. Then, the delight of sorting a bag for the beach. After breakfast, a short walk took me back to the perfect small, deserted beach, just birds and distant foil boarding windsurfers for company (apparently not called hoverboards!). It was gorgeous, sunny with a light breeze, and the water… splendid. A glorious swim in clear water, watching a huge variety of multicoloured fish floating over rocks. Then I met Swimcube Stuart and Encouraging Izzy to explore the ‘moat’ round the bar as a possible race venue for later in the week. Absolutely disgusting… possibly No.1 worst swim location. Imagine horrified shiver… debris thrown off the bar and beach into the water…Yuck! Weirdly (and to the others’ dismay), I was loving being in water in general so much, I swam round again… it was worse the second time!

The following day, I woke rested and relaxed and managed the second half of the morning session. Then back to the beach – with company, and more lush swimming with fish. Rest/exercise balance and time management were working. The others had long sea swims and masterclass stroke technique coaching. Me… two hours reading/swimming/chatting on the beach, lunch, rest at apartment, watch and photograph the others working (from a sunbed), and modified pool sessions. I had a brilliant 1:1 coaching and video analysis session from Stuart.

The trip was reminding me how much I love swimming, both pool training and in the sea. My counsellor advises doing things that nourish – swimming nourishes me. Over the last year, guilt and anxiety have become regular companions… ‘everyone must be so fed up with this pathetic me’. I laughed and relaxed more than I have for months – my counsellor advises spending time with people who nourish – my SYS (and other) friends nourish me. I’m accepted for who I am, who I am today, and at the same time challenged to push myself in a controlled way. By the end of the week, having given up hope of improvement on day two, I could swim further and faster without getting breathless. I’d started to understand what ‘productive rest’ means – and how to achieve it. And I began to heal. Nightly gatherings at ‘Club Tropicana’ (AKA someone’s flat) reminded me how to have fun again – to make the most of the times when I feel well.

Coming home to the cold and wet, and slowly decreasing lake temperatures was a shock. My body wasn’t going to cope with the cold this year. I tried to focus on positives, good days where I was relaxed and happy, enjoying mindful swims on occasional sunny Saturdays. On bad days, after nine hours sleep, I woke exhausted, headachy, ill with tiredness, breathlessness after taking a shower. Mental exertion wiped me out. I took 2 months off charity volunteering. I was supposed to develop a pacing plan with the Long Covid Physio – she’s been off sick since November. Then I remembered Lanzarote – my renewed enthusiasm for swimming, and a reawakened understanding of the power of friends and a bit of fun.

So…. I bought a wetsuit – a Zone3 breaststroke wetsuit, and woohoo – I’m enjoying cold water swimming again.  What a revelation! The joy in the lake is back (… after the initial shock). We’ve had evenings out with friends, I made a pacing plan for Christmas, achievable because a wonderful friend helped with cleaning and my awesome husband did most of the washing up and changing beds. I’m learning to work at the laptop in chunks.

This month its one year since I caught Covid.  Current thinking suggests I’m one year into recovery. The holiday showed me that it IS recovery. It’s not the life-sentence I sometimes fear. I’m walking more – slow and flat, but walking. Learning to pace, not ‘boom and bust’. Learning to rest and relax when needed, swim every week, and spend time with people who nurture and encourage. And I’m finally seeing improvement.

I hope those of you who encouraged me through 2022 know how awesome you are, and how grateful I am for you. You’re fabulous!

Oh yes, and I’ve booked Lanza 2023 – and I’m taking Swimmy Pal…

It’s all a matter of perspective…

On By survivingsixtyIn long-covid, outdoor swimming, Retirement, Setting and achieving goals, Surviving sixty, volunteering, water safety, Windemere endtoend3 Comments

Summer – a time for much swimming, walking, cycling. This year, not much cycling, and a time to accept new challenges and different opportunities, and relearn to embrace positives.

It started so well. In June we went to Bala with SwimYourSwim (SYS). As well as a few cold rainy/ windy dips from a lake beach, some of the SYS crew joined Tour-Guide Tom & I to climb Cadair Idriss (the covid lung group ascending slowly, puffing away at the back), as far as Llyn Cau, an utterly beautiful, clear, flat, freezing lake nestled in a crater beneath stunning mountain tops. We had a brief, shouty, delicious dip – definitely worth the climb.

TGT made his debut on the shoreside support team at the SYS Bala event. Armed with a clipboard & camera, we watched anxious swimmers set off from LLangower beach, some slowly and cautiously entering the water, others storming in and throwing themselves into the waves. At the finish, up to our knees in the lake, we supported those who needed a helping arm to lean on, photographing the elation/exhaustion, in admiration of the hardy swimmers and their achievements.

Things were looking up. I’d started regularly swimming at the lake (Thrybergh), and gradually walking and cycling further. Still breathless and fatigued … but improving.  Then a second dose of Covid at the end of June left me worse than I’d been in February. Don’t worry, this isn’t a moany blog … I’m learning to accept my situation and trying to embrace life’s positives.  In July and August we had several short breaks, the hot weather providing fabulous (short) swims and walks.

September is the SYS end-to-end (10.5 miles) Windemere event. For the first time ever… I was on a boat not shoreside. My nervousness wasn’t helped when the Boss said, ‘All you need to be able to do is throw a rope and be nimble.’ Clearly not heard the story about being dismissed from the Brownies for lack of throwing skills… Or asked TGT what I’m like on a boat…

On the day, we have an early start. Boss Man & I are ferried out to the boat (Kyle) by the rib crews – in pouring rain. We set off (proud moment, I’m allowed to untie a rope…) and slowly make our way to the start of the swim. It’s very slow progress.  Eventually the rib reappears, The Boss is taken to the starting point to give his briefing to swimmers, and Boaty McWill joins me to drive (pilot?) Kyle up the lake. Eventually the dock/ pier comes into view and with the help of Boaty McKev on shore, (no nimbleness required), we moor/ dock. Quick dash to the loo and I arrive in the briefing room just as the Boss is finishing off.  I’m handed a headset microphone and told to go and talk to the lady in the corner. I introduce myself. Mel is visually impaired. I’m going to guide her down the lake. As Mel takes me through the headset system, panic quietly rises. There are buttons to fathom – and Mel’s headset might need changing and charging. Then Mel says, ‘We use the clockface for directions.’ Cue near meltdown. If anyone asks at Thrybergh, ‘Do you mean anti-clockwise?’ I point and say, ‘That way’. I’m wearing a digital watch. We’ve used all our spare paper to label swimmers’ food – can’t even draw a clock for reference.

There are 6 boats, most with their own ‘pod’ of swimmers. Eventually it’s our turn to set off. it’s a bit tricky. I’m struggling with the clockface and worrying about volume. At the first feed (our 6 swimmers each have a labelled bag/box containing a variety of food and drinks that the Boss and I distribute (chuck at them) at hourly intervals). I ask Mel how I’m doing. She’s treading water and eating. She passes up her empty container and with a wry smile says, ‘Not bad, but it would help if you told me when to go back to 12 O’Clock!’  Total embarrassment! The pod enjoys my mistake…

Then it’s time for the next hour of swimming, and gradually I start to relax into the task and stop stressing. I begin to enjoy myself. Our pod has 6 lovely people – all incredible swimmers. The others look after Mel – particularly when ferries are crossing nearby, or we need to change direction. I start looking around, always with Mel in the corner of my vision. It’s beautiful. The sun is out. The lake is calm. The hills, boats, ferries, trees, everything, is reflected in the sparkling lake. The swimmers are magical to watch… strong strokes, supporting each other, sometimes swimming side-by-side in synchronisation, sometimes with a lead swimmer then a triangle of followers, creating a glistening wake through the stillness.

I try to imagine swimming in a huge lake with no visual markers. I realise more information would help. I need to anticipate waves from boats… and warn Mel before she starts bouncing in the wash. As time goes on, I start giving landmarks. As we approach the last couple of miles, some of the swimmers start to tire, others are enjoying the houses and landmarks. I keep Mel up to date with where we are. Watching the Boss and listening to the constant chatter with the other boats, I’m starting to understand how much work the Boaties do … keeping swimmers safe, navigating the lake, timing ferries, distributing feeds… for hours without a break.

Finally, we see the beach at Waterhead – the end is definitely in sight, but not for Mel, so it’s time for lots of encouragement. I’m tired and running out of words. I notice the swimmers are moving closer to each other – aiming to swim into the finish together. Athletes supporting each other. They’ve got a last burst of energy – no time for me to be fatigued, I’ve got to focus and get Mel to the right place so she can stand up and walk out.  At last Kyle is stationary, and we head for the shore to congratulate our pod on their superb achievement. I’m a bit shell shocked & emotional – what a brilliant experience.  I make my way to Mel feeling shaky and tearful. She trusted me the whole swim, what an immense privilege.

Later I thank the Boss for trusting me too – he knows when I need pushing and challenging.

Yes, I have days of frustration and fear, but I’m realising that working to your strengths and setting the ‘right’ goals, means you can achieve whatever you like. It turns out Mel is training to be the first blind swimmer to swim the Channel… and she’s also a x3 paralympic gold medallist.   So, I’m not going to let my breathlessness and fatigue, or what I can’t do, define me. Here’s to an Autumn of celebrating achievements…

If you’d like to read Mel’s story and follow her Channel training, she’s writing about it here: https://www.facebook.com/blindwildswimming

Thanks to John who was kayaking with us for the photo of me on Kyle – I think he came along for fun! Thanks for not minding when I yelled at you too.

Breathlessness and Buddies, Birds and Buttercups

On By survivingsixtyIn outdoor swimming3 Comments

Blog has been quiet… because Covid recovery has been neither linear nor predictable, and it’s taken a long time to return to any regular activity. Four months post-Covid and I’m armed with new inhalers and fresh determination. It took 2 months to get back in the lake, and I’ve only been on my bike three times since Christmas. Persistent breathlessness and fatigue, exacerbated by exercise and cold – and on some days any kind of activity (changing beds was a firecracker) – have made it difficult to plan a fitness programme.

In February I started Pilates again – couldn’t manage much else except short walks and occasional brief low resistance exercise bike sessions. I had a brief paddle on March 8th but then a chest infection set me back to square one and minimal walking on level easy paths. The first major celebration was for managing 6km during a 4 hour outing!

On 2nd April, a bright sunny Saturday morning, I braved the cold clear lake. First ‘proper’ dip since 15th January! 6 minutes of standing and brief breaststroke swimming. Wading into the water and the first rush of cold, laughing with friends, water lapping, skin zinging … marvellous! The next two weeks saw very slow progress – but by the end of April definite signs of improvement. I even managed to complete and pass a 2-day open water safety course, with the help of a wetsuit, inhalers, Bossman Trainer, and a brilliant supportive group of fellow SwimYourSwim (SYS) students. I’m very glad I did it – learnt masses and feel much better equipped to help in different situations, from a swimmer in distress to the annual Amble jellyfish stings!  

It’s been four months of education… I’ve learnt that:

  • taking breaks and catching that elusive breath before the next bit of activity helps maintain exercise levels… and is a good idea before there’s no breath to catch.
  • rest days are key to post-covid recovery.
  • front crawl and controlled breathing are more comfortable than breaststroke.
  • being emotional and miserable in front of the Bossman will earn a stern talking-to and stops POM (Poor Old Me) taking over (please don’t tell him it’s helpful… and understand my positive attitude may be due to his frequent ice cream gifts).
  • SYS buddies and Swimmy Pal can always be relied on, and friendship sustains and revives well-being in the face of the slightest (to a major) struggle. Swimmy Pal swam alongside me – encouraging, watching, asking the right questions- then pushing me gently to just be brave enough to swim a bit of front crawl. On cold evenings I’d have given up without her. When breathlessness left me hyperventilating and dizzy, there was always someone to watch while I recovered – or provide an arm to lean on while I staggered back to my clothes. After a meltdown, there were hugs and support (and ice cream).

As the water and weather warmed, I reached the dizzy heights of swimming 1km. 3 days later I struggled to swim 750m. My blasted body failed to acclimatise to longer swims and left me cold for hours after swimming in temperatures that last year would have had me dressed in shorts afterwards. It’s a long time since I was still wearing multiple layers under a blanket in a warm house, my skin still cold to the touch at bedtime – after a 15C swim. My default swimming emotion was frustration.

With gentle walks and a couple of easy bike rides, I’d reached about 50% activity levels by May. Then we went to Spain for our rescheduled (x4) 2020 holiday. Walking not swimming. 2 weeks in a tiny village in the mountains – only the sound of birds and cow/sheep/horse bells for most of the day. Rest, relaxation, no stress – and gradually my strength returned. With short walks every day interspersed with lots of rest and occasional more challenging climbs, I walked farther and higher than I thought possible. Two lovely beach days brought dips and a short swim –refreshing and energising with no need to finish a lap or check the time. Blissful. Jumping in bouncing frothy waves on an almost deserted beach with Tour-Guide Tom was perfect. I realised an obvious truth – my life isn’t very balanced! To fully recover, I need time and space to relax and refresh, to stop and appreciate nature again. I need to stop concentrating on what I can’t do and focus on being thankful for my friends and family – for their companionship (online and face-to-face), encouragement and motivation, and their love and support.

When you’ve spent 2 weeks living on a Spanish hillside in the mountains, with your best friend and birds and lizards for company, it changes your perspective. I ‘feel’ like me again and reckon I’m almost at 70% activity. I’ve gone from frustration and misery to gratitude and hope. You have permission to remind me.

Since we came home, I’ve ditched the neoprene socks and gloves and had 2 great swims, gradually increasing the time and distance in the water.

On the matter of challenges, I received an unexpected email thanking me for signing up to the SYS ‘Build me up Buttercup’ challenge. I didn’t. Apparently as I’d managed 1km and was vaguely following the training plan (which builds up to 5K by the end of August – no chance), Bosslady was amused by the idea of my face on a buttercup… I don’t suppose I’ll get to choose a photo. Hey ho. For this week the plan has the (unlikely) target of 2km.  I didn’t fill in the form, so I’m not bothered (or am I…??).

Fighting FOMO with gratitude

On By survivingsixtyIn depression and anxiety, outdoor swimming, Setting and achieving goals, winter swimmingLeave a comment

We visited the newest grandson last weekend. When he knew where we were going, SYS Bossman kindly referred to it as, ‘The Covid capital of the world.’ We had a fabulous time, the parents were able to finally go out in the evening, and after almost 2 years of following rules & being super careful, I brought IT home with me.  Cue perfect conditions for FOMO.

Go on, tell me you haven’t experienced FOMO in the last 2 years – all those holiday photos… when yours were cancelled for a third time by Covid Rules And Precautions (i.e. CRAP), cosy Christmas family PJ and dinner photos… when you had a veggie burger alone thanks to CRAP, endless snaps of smiling swimmers with beautiful rivers/ seas/ sunsets/ moonlight/alone/ with groups… Honestly that’s the worst! I’m pretty sure FOMO fed my unrelenting depression. However, thanks to some gentle encouragement (?), I’ve been ‘seeing’ someone – and it’s been a revelation. Finally, there’s hope, I’m climbing out of the deep dark hole one rung of the ladder at a time. Phew!

Enforced isolation means several consecutive Saturdays away from swimming. The likelihood of completing the Bluetits challenge was already slim, but missing more SYS swims, plus the level of breathlessness I’m currently experiencing, have probably put the kibosh on the 30 swims goal. I managed to finish a January walking challenge the day before I tested positive – #50milesin30days for Global Care. Achieved not least through the company of friends – including several SYS pals, and a newly created WalkYourWalk group!  I love my swimmy friends – we’re a supportive bunch. Volunteering at the lake, all busy doing different jobs in different places, doesn’t leave a lot of time for extended chat. Two hours’ walking together was brilliant.

And I had some great December and January swims. Swimmy Pal and I swam together at Matlock Bath spa, on two Saturdays at Hatfield and Thrybergh, and on Boxing Day. Lake temperatures above 6 in flat clear water made for gorgeous chilly laps and happy chatty shivers afterwards. A dull damp Boxing Day with choppy water finally dipping below 5C (4.9) wasn’t such fun – more discouragement than euphoria. However much it was affected by CRAP, the apathy also reflected this season’s fluctuating enthusiasm for cold water swimming. Then New Year’s Day was a complete contrast. A gorgeous crisp sunny day with the water back to 7.3C. Absolutely lush – back to 15 minutes in the water, a big smile on exit, easy change, and later, joy and laughter all around the bobble hats and dry robes.

January is usually the start of Ice Mile season – swimming a mile at under 5C in just a swimsuit, goggles and swim hat. The lake stubbornly stayed over 5C – Oh Happy Day for some of us! However, plenty of swimmers needed to complete ice mile qualifiers (demonstrating ability to swim a defined distance in cold water). Consequently, I’m back at Hatfield in the morning, supporting the crew and swimmers as general dogsbody or wherever I’m needed. I dithered both times but swam with other volunteers at the end of the session – and remembered I do sometimes love cold water… Swimming on a foggy frosty day can be a fantastic experience. Cold water sets all my senses on heightened alert. I’m aware of every tingling piece of skin – perfect moments of mindfulness, only noticing the peace of the lake, the misty atmosphere broken by occasional birdsong.  The swim is a place of peace and rest. … Well… until Baker Boaty* shouts that he’s desperate for the loo, which I suspect means, ‘get a move on, don’t do another loop, I need to get off the boat and out of my drysuit ASAP.’ It was gorgeous while it lasted…

Sleeping in the day and dozing at night, my dreams have become a kind of alternative reality. It can be hard to remember where fact and fiction start and end. Waking up at 3am I’m not sure where to find the bedroom door or the bathroom. This strange moment when my body is still with my mind in a tangle of random disjointed people and events.

Back in bed, I know the only way to get back to sleep involves leaving the dream and starting again. I need to remember a place, revisit it, and walk, swim or cycle a route.  I can usually drift off on the glorious paths and beaches of sunny family holidays. As my isolation extends, it works less often, and I’m going back to crystal clear Welsh waterfall pools, the Northumberland coast in all weathers, and Thrybergh or Hatfield. I visualise the sun or the mist, frost and snow, rain and calm, strike out between the swans, notice geese flying south, duck heads dipping below the surface, and sometimes watch ice milers and qualifiers with awe and respect. Occasionally it works and I don’t wake again for several hours.

It’s time to recognise and reject FOMO. I AM missing out this weekend – missing watching and supporting the 100th Ice Mile swim at Hatfield.  But I’ll be back, and imposed rest provides opportunity to plan, remember what’s important, appreciate all the people who’ve taken time to message me, be thankful for our house where I can isolate from Husband Who is a Great Carer.  There’s so much to be grateful for, and so many joyful experiences to go over as I drift to sleep. So goodbye FOMO, and hello CRAPMO.

Thanks to Angela Davison, Sarah Farrar and I’m not sure who else, for the photos.

*Baker Boaty needs a new name – has he stopped baking? hint… hint!

Some like it cold… not sure I do!

On By survivingsixtyIn outdoor swimming, Surviving sixty, winter swimmingLeave a comment

Just to be clear…. I’m not someone who relishes winter swimming, even though this will be my fourth year! No dusting off the ice axe in this house, no signing up for International Ice Swimming competitions. Oh no, not me, I’m digging out the neoprene socks and gloves, and checking the wetsuit is where I think it is! This year I’ve ditched all the challenges involving distances and/or decreasing temperatures. I’m not exactly embracing increasingly cold water swimming – faff and procrastination are extending. However, in all honesty, I haven’t regretted any swims yet… oh hang on, there was one.

New Years Day – a great winter swim!

After dodging household Covid, I end up with an energy sapping cold and cough that lasts a couple of weeks. On this particular Saturday, needing to get out of the house, I’m helping at Thrybergh but generally feeling sorry for myself.  It’s pouring with rain and there’s a cold breeze. Despite feeling off colour, having not swum for nearly 3 weeks and physical exercise being shelved in favour of TV boxsets, I let myself be talked into swimming in 13.2C choppy water.  I should have said no. One extended short lap and 15 minutes later, I’m breathless, hardly moving and feeling slightly sick. A glimmer of sense makes me stagger onto dry land – despite Spotter Stanley waiting for some company at the start of the course.  I decide I’m never swimming again. It’s not nice getting dressed in freezing wind, feeling nauseous, already shivering (after-drop and shivering usually hit me 30-40 minutes after I’ve left the water), and I can’t feel my hands and feet despite the neoprene socks & gloves.  I drink a whole flask of hot Ribena, leave early and drive for 30 minutes with the car temperature on 250. I arrive home, warm up enough for a bath, then on go my cosy fleecy joggers and top…  I’m cold again.  We eat tea, … still cold.  I move to the living room. Sit on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, heating on… still cold.  Eventually I decide today is the day to switch on my side of the electric blanket. I climb into bed, and finally the electric blanket warms me up. Phew.

My diary records ‘The worst swim ever!’. That’s the only time I’ve experienced bad after-drop in years. The cause – basic stupidity. First rule of cold water swimming, the same as any openwater swimming, respect the water. It’s cold. Don’t get in if you don’t feel well. Don’t get in if you’re not prepared. Maybe we all need a long uncomfortable recovery to remind us that no-one, however well acclimatised, can take cold water swimming for granted.

Anyway, it proper shook me up. I’d forgotten what it feels like to be that cold. I remembered how much I hate it… and remembered how to avoid it. I also remembered on my next swim that if you take it slow and respond to what your body is telling you, you can have a great swim in cold water. A week later, 23 minutes at 12.9c, happy Barb. Glorious sunshine, two laps, chatty breaststroke, and not a shiver in sight. Chilly excellence.

Photo credit: Angela Davison

Now the temperatures are starting to drop I’m much happier swimming with Swimmy Pal than on my own.  We help each other get in, remind each other that we’re doing it for fun (!) and we’ll stop if we start to hate it, encourage each other while we’re waiting to settle into the temperature, have a laugh, and usually at some point go, ‘I’m enjoying this’. Last week the water was down to 10.5c and we swam for 22 minutes.  At the start we looked at each other and said, ‘Why are we doing this?’… but halfway round the first lap, dodging swans and enjoying the dramatic Autumn sky in glorious sunshine, we agreed that this was a pretty good way to spend Saturday afternoon.  Afterwards, wrapped up in many layers, clutching flasks of hot drinks, eating Pudsey cakes, chatting and sharing shivers with other swimmers and volunteers, I felt great – relaxed and positive, cheerful and energised. That’s how it should be after a winter swim.

But in truth… I liked it better when it was 15c…

This week snow stopped play. Not the actual swimming – the getting to the venue. We woke to find the car snowed in and were surrounded by road closures.  Cue WhatsApp chat with Swimmy Pal.

Me: Do you still fancy a swim tomorrow?

SP: I think so

Me: We can wait till tomorrow (although we know we’ll back out unless the weather is sunny & dry ha ha), I’m so close to abandoning winter swimming

SP: Don’t give up yet – let’s keep going a couple more weeks and see how it goes xx

Me: Yes boss

Did we swim today? Nope – still snow and ice, and genuinely not sensible to take our cars out for a swim. Was I disappointed? I do love a snow day…. Warm and dry at home….

It might be time to make the effort to get back to the unheated open-air spring water pool at Matlock….

How to remain buoyant when black sharks approach

On By survivingsixtyIn outdoor swimmingLeave a comment

It’s not been an easy month. A heap of pesky circumstances threatened to sink yours truly… but sometimes a challenge acts as a catalyst to be thankful. Today I bring you…. Barb’s Buoyant Blog.

1. BINGO!

I found a hat … and swam in it. Phew, #SwimGoBingo challenge achieved with 8 days to go. 9 swims – some easier than others, an introduction to sunset swims and rediscovery of river swims… which I’ll definitely repeat. I didn’t do all the planned swims, no moonlit swim despite several attempts to schedule one, but there’ll be plenty more full moons!

Photo Angela Davison

2. Buzzing

We spent 24hrs childminding. After a week of saying, ‘No’, the two girls decided (on the day) to borrow Swimyourswim wetsuits and come to Thrybergh. The sun shone, geese flew over, swans and ducks floated beside us, the water was 18.5c, they squealed, swam and practiced floating like starfish. They didn’t want to get out… Result! My swimming exploits have reportedly led some friends to try openwater swimming, and others to ditch their wetsuits. They send messages to say how much they love it. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

3. Bad weather doesn’t stop play

We’ve had plenty of wet & windy weather recently. I quite like swimming in ‘chop’ and rain. Spotter Stanley swam with me a few times in the absence of Swimmy Pal. He likes to approach the final buoy with a bit of side-by-side synchro swimming. One particularly miserable wet & windy day, SS persuaded a somewhat reluctant me to swim – and of course it was brilliant. Pouring rain, lush water, and lots of laughs. There are days when a swim isn’t great – but it’s rarely just about the weather.

4. Beauty and the beacons

Early sunsets make visibility for spotters too challenging. The last evening swim at Thrybergh was a night swim. 20 minutes of delicious, and slightly magical, cold swimming with Swimmy Pal. Heads up to see our surroundings, breaststroking through silky inky water with glittering lights from buoys, boats and tow-floats. Fabulous.

5. eBay Boots

Two key things about winter swimming are acclimatisation, and warming-up afterwards. Ideally, I swim weekly as temperatures start to drop. It’s been going quite well, no need for neoprene swimming socks & gloves, but the ebay UGGs made an appearance a couple of weeks ago. All that lovely fluffiness to warm up post-swim cold toes. But now I’ve missed two Saturdays. Remember the mini heatwave? The first algal bloom in 5 years of Thrybergh swimming. No swimming.

6. Baltic Bits

It’s time for another challenge… I’ve chosen the Arctic Flappers Winter Challenge, ‘Chilly Tits with Baltic Bits!’ ….  It’s very simple, complete 30 swims between November 1st and April 4th, 2022. Well maybe not so simple…  

7. Bedrooms and Bathrooms

First it was algal bloom, then Corona came. Poor old husband (no silly name this blog – I’m doing quite well on sympathy so far) had a positive PCR. I’m PCR negative but decided to stay at home this weekend to be extra safe. We have enough space for separate bedrooms and bathrooms so hopefully I’ve escaped the blasted virus. I missed a Friday outing with Swimmy Pal and the SYS Saturday swim. I know I didn’t have to – but it didn’t feel right. All being well (& negative) I’ll be back in the water next week. Suddenly 30 swims in 23 weeks doesn’t seem easy.  Time to persuade Swimmy Pal to sign up so we can start nagging/ motivating each other… What do you think SP? 

Photo Leon Fryer

8. Buoyancy (and rescue services)

Famously I only ever had one part in a senior school play… a Victorian maid taking a baby out in a pram. Walk across the stage, look over shoulder and smile coquettishly at male lead. The end. This week I was a drunken teenager who’d gone for a swim, and wouldn’t get out because her friend was floating unconscious beside her. SYS versus South Yorkshire Fire & Rescue (their training day). Wetsuits on, 4 of us waiting to be rescued. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was fun! We were encouraged to be difficult.  I wasn’t doing anything until they rescued my ‘Trevor’ and Jane wasn’t leaving ‘Leon’ (who’d disappeared and wasn’t a great swimmer…). It’s shocking to think this actually happens. We all stood in silence when the diving team finally found ‘Leon’ – sobering to remember 2 young people drowned in that lake in the last few months. And the traumatic experience for the rescuers. Stay safe – and be sensible –  I couldn’t have stayed above the surface that long without a wetsuit.

9. Buddies

It’s been a tricky start to Autumn swimming… but the night swim was awesome partly because I had my pal by my side.  I asked SS to swim with me one week after an incident that knocked my confidence. He didn’t hesitate. My phone has been pinging lots in the last few days – family & friends checking up on us.

On the day of the algae, I looked out at the lake with a huge weight on my shoulders. All I wanted was to get in that cool clear (bright green) water and swim away from the dark shark threatening to overwhelm my brain cells. But I couldn’t. Throwing kit back into the car boot, I spotted a fellow swimmer and broke the bad news. Cancelled today. We agreed it was frustrating but very rare, and sometimes nature flexes its muscles and reminds us it has the upper hand.

She glanced… and asked, ‘Are you OK?’

Ridiculous tears threatened to leak – the exhaustion of smiling in public for days when evenings were spent curled up in bed struggling to sleep or sobbing with frustration and anguish.

She hugged me.

‘Don’t be nice!’ I stuttered.

She spoke directly into my ear, ‘It’s OK, we all have bad days. I’m giving you a hug.’

And it helped. I know she understood – but I didn’t have to say anything. There are lots of us walking round with a black shark swimming towards us.

There’s lots to be thankful for, and I’m looking forward to a winter of chilly tits and Baltic bits, and being with buddies on both the buoyant days, and when we need to support or rescue each other in the face of black sharks…

1st January 2021

Sea creatures and sunsets, safety and cake, Summertime blues, Swim Bingo and Lakes.

On By survivingsixtyIn depression and anxiety, Living life to the full, outdoor swimming, Retirement, Setting and achieving goals, Surviving sixty, water safetyLeave a comment

With 2 weeks left, I’m still one SwimGoBingo challenge short of a full house (Swimmy Pal finished this week ..). We’ve had 2 unsuccessful attempts at full moon swims due to poor weather, leaving a pretty grim set of options. Opportunities for skinny dipping are failing fast, no dogs in our house, I don’t run… Might have to borrow something from Husband Who Likes Hats. If only the Bingo challenges included swimming in a ‘new’ lake or waterfall, being rescued by firemen, river swooshing, or shore-side support. Yes, it’s been an eventful summer!

Swimmy Pal & I had cake after a swim at our favourite Nature Reserve – ‘Have your cake and eat it’ badge √ – hardly a challenge…

In July we took Mum on her annual Northumberland jolly. The weather was gorgeous and we swam most days. The long sandy beaches mean its possible to swim when the tide is fairly low.  Wading through cool clear water, we floated in chest-high waves, the wind lifting salty spray off the ripples to splash on our faces.  Deserted beaches meant peaceful swims.  Chilly water left our skin tingling… blissful.  Jellyfish sightings were rare – a blessed relief after last year’s jellyfish soup and lots of shortened swims. 

The next Bingo badge was an absolute delight – not in any way a challenge (theme here?). We borrowed bikes and cycled to the beach leaving Mum watching the sunset at our flat. We had an utterly stunning swim as the sun sank behind the dunes and the moon took over sky rule. I won’t do it justice, but imagine your arms stroking through sea that appears thick and silky, like swimming through blue rippling melted chocolate, an orange glow fanning out from the shore.  The seabed glistened through calm transparent water. Pure peace and joy. ‘Here comes the sun’ badge √.

One day we had a boat trip and watched rafts of puffins floating in the sun. Another day a seal swam into the harbour, peering at us inquisitively as we drank our coffee. The weather changed on the last day, but HWLH took me to Warkworth beach. Note: he tested me on rip tides before we went… I love the changing nature of the sea, sometimes its fun to work hard swimming in the chop of a receding tide on a dull day. Gradually I began to make out jellies glowing through the murky churned up sea – time to get out. Then, as I was dressing, HWLH (and doesn’t like swimming in grey crashing waves in drizzle), spotted dolphins. We watched a whole pod swimming up the coast, majestically rising and arching over to dive, dorsal fins shining through the mist. Another moment of joy. Gosh I love sea swimming.

Photo credit Charley Hill

The last blog prompted me to remember to respect the water. HWLH watched my efforts or we swam together, with a bright hat and/or bright tow-float when we deemed it necessary. We checked tide times and sewage levels. Over the summer the SwimYourSwim team were involved in Water Safety Awareness afternoons at South Yorkshire reservoirs. I only made it to one, arriving very grumpy after getting lost. Cue mood improvement – in the water ‘demonstrating’ being rescued by the Fire & Rescue team! We ran ‘Introduction to open water safety’ courses for children at Thrybergh. Our coaches were awesome both in and out of the water. Four Saturdays where children were educated about how to keep safe around open water, and how to enjoy open water safely.

We had a week in the Lakes in August with family and swam in Wastwater for the first time. It really is magnificent – stunning surroundings and if you avoid the crowds, a peaceful chilly swim. Lush. Number 2 son swam in a crystal clear cold mountain pool with me – and watched in mild surprise as his old Mum swooshed down the river making the most of heavy rainfall to have some fun. Mum won’t go on a Roller Coaster … but son didn’t want to swoosh!  

Despite the fun and sun, the tedious black cloud hovered over my shoulder all summer, this time accompanied by a storm of anxiety. Swimming and holidays keep it at bay, but normal life is sometimes a trial. My fabulous friends help me on the worst days, but I was seriously contemplating backing out of a planned trip to Windemere to support a group of people swimming the 10.5 mile length of the lake.  No matter how much I love the Lakes, the thought of sleeping in a Youth Hostel and very early mornings sent the anxiety into overdrive.

Fortunately, my friends and family know what’s good for me… a lift was offered (thank you, you lovely pair), & HWLH reminded me how mountains and water restore my soul. We arrived on Saturday afternoon, swam before we’d unpacked, then ate outside overlooking the lake. On Sunday we had an early start, and in all honesty, I had a fabulous and rather easy day – greeting swimmers and sorting goody bags, bacon butty, ferry, cheer and take photos at half-way point (plus ice-cream), lunch and set up at the beach at the end of the swim, cheer & take photos as the incredible athletes finished their swims. It was a brilliant day – glorious sunshine, great company, fabulous scenery. Emotional, uplifting and generally awesome to watch people achieve a goal that took months/ years of training.  Not much sleep – but an ace weekend!

There isn’t a SwimGoBingo badge for dolphins or photography, but I’m beginning to acknowledge the breadth and depth of experiences I’m having through swimming – both in and out of the water! The benefits of cold water swimming are well documented, and the positive impact of being part of a supportive community…. but my life is richer this year for the wildlife and scenery, knowing I’m part of a team, taking part in activities committed to saving lives and supporting safe swimming, the friends & family who join me in and beside the water, being part of someone’s achievements and life goals, firemen, and ice cream….

Thank you to those of you who encourage me when I’m struggling. Thank you to the people whose resilience and determination to swim 10.5 miles however long it took and however much it hurt, reminded me that sometimes the way to get through is to decide that giving up isn’t an option… 

Now – where does he keep his hats?