Archive for the ‘Swimming’ Category

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The Seacliff beach hotel which overlooked the swim and hosted the presentation

There is an open water series of swims in my new adopted home and this was the first one. I was looking forward to competing even though my swimming has been a little poor of late. The event was a 1.6km (1 mile) sea swim. In past years it had been along the coast to a buoy near the jetty and back.

When we set out from hone the weather was looking a little unsettled. There had been storms over the last few days and the forecast for today wasn’t too promising. When we arrived, the sea looked a bit choppy and we were told that there quite a strong current running southward. It looked like my ideal conditions. The current would take me to the buoy and then I could fight my way against the wind and wave to the finish. It would also slow down some of the pool swimmers that only ever swim in flat calm.

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The conditions looked either good or bad depending on your view

After registering we went for a little pre-race nutrition or as it’s usually known a cup of hot chocolate and a walnut muffin. As we passed the time of day looking out to sea we noticed that the buoy near the jetty was being moved. What was going on. We could only speculate and all our speculations lead to one thing, the course was being changed.

The truth became known at the briefing. We would now be doing two loops, starting off against the current. I felt slightly cheated by this. I would have much preferred an out and back rather than loops. The rationale was that it would help the weaker swimmers complete the course. I had to reluctantly agree, not that I had a choice.

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Somewhere to hide from the wind

The water felt warm to me but others felt that it was nearly arctic. Water temperature is such a subjective thing. We all bobbed around in the water trying to find the idea starting position. I wanted the shortest route but I didn’t want to be caught up in the fast swimmer’s melee.

All of a sudden, we were off. I didn’t here a gun or hooter, there was just a fast surge forward. The swim was on. I started pushing against the current and climbing the waves. This was fun. This is what sea swimming is all about. Every now and then I looked up for the buoy and corrected my tendency to veer to the left. It took a while to get there but eventually I rounded the yellow blob. The sea conditions changed instantly. Now the current was pushing from the side but I was still climbing waves. The next buoy and the next turn came quickly. Now everything was pushing me down the beach. It made things far to easy. I felt relaxed and cruised down to the next buoy ready for the next lap.

The folly of my pre-race nutrition regime hit home a little way into the second loop. One moment I was happily fighting the current and climbing the waves, the next I had the taste of hot chocolate in my mouth. More worryingly I could feel little bit of walnuts as well. I had no desire to make this the first time I’d thrown up in the sea so I swallowed hard and concentrated on making progress. I now had the taste of salty hot chocolate and walnuts in my mouth. The harder a swam the more the feeling rose. It all disappeared as I rounded to buoy. The feeling passed, I felt relieved

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The finish, a good place to end.

The final leg went well, the weakening current pushed me all the way to the finish where the only hard decision to make was where to stop swimming and get to my feet. Despite the feeling of rising nausea I really enjoyed the swim. Hopefully the rest in the series will be just as enjoyable.

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Moonlight (3)

Henley Beach at dusk

It seemed like a simple idea: gather at dusk on a full moon and then have a short swim around the Jetty before retiring for refreshments. I couldn’t believe that no one in my new group of swimmers had done it before. There were objections, some said that the fish with large teeth feed at dusk, others just felt intimated by the whole thing. There was intrigue as well, this was something new, something slightly out of the ordinary and more than that it was a chance for a little get together afterwards. With a bit of persistence and persuasion I managed to amass a small group to make the inaugural (and potentially only) Henley moonlight swim.

A moonlight swim needs to be done with moonlight and the brightest moonlight is on the full moon. I was lucky as the next full moon was on a Friday. It is always easier to pursued people to do something silly on a Friday. The next problem was that despite the moonlight It is still quite dark. This was solved by a visit to a superstore to acquire glow sticks. I left the store feeling like a teenager going to a rave.

Moonlight

Be safe, be seen

We gathered outside the surf club as dusk fell. I’d checked the moonrise time and it was about now. What I had failed to consider was that the hills in the east would obscure the moon for quite a while after the moonrise. Undeterred I renamed the event a twilight swim and we all carried on regardless.

Julianne had also thought about lighting, she had placed a lamp into her yellow tow float to produce an eerie floating orb. The rest of us were decked in glow sticks.

Moonlight (1)

Preparing the celebration of the golden orb

We wandered down to the sea ready to start our swim under the eyes of a few curious passers-by on the jetty. We must have looked like some weird cult following a golden orb into the sea. The water was cool but not cold, it didn’t take much getting used to. The sea was calm and still and so very pleasant to swim in. Heading out to sea was a beautiful and surreal experience. Every now and again I would see a glow stick rise and fall. Away in the distance the glowing yellow orb showed the way.

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The orb leads, the others follow

 

As we rounded the jetty the lights from the shore illuminated our way back to the beach. We could all feel the current pulling us slowly towards the Jetty. One of us actually swam into it. We all gathered on the beach. Some felt that they had had enough whist others felt that it was so good they wanted to go around again.

 

Nearly everyone asked when will we be doing it again, I count this as a success.

Murray View

We are going to swim across there

A lot of the border between Victoria and New South Wales is marked by the River Murray, that’s why it’s such a wiggly line on the map. The idea of swimming to another state appealed to me and that was the main reason that I was in Mildura. I was there with a group of masters’ swimmers who were taking part in a swimming gala. They had a tradition of swimming across the river to mark the end of the event and the start of the party.

We started by slipping into the water from the back of the houseboat. For those that had been in a swimming pool all weekend the water was freezing. For those of us who had been standing on the pool deck guiding swimmers to the start and eating junk food it was refreshingly cool.

Murray Setting off

Setting off

The water wasn’t particularly clear, it tasted slightly of mud and dirt. I tried not to think about how much the pelicans had added to the organic matter in the water. We wanted to land on the small bank opposite the house boat so someone did some complicated maths with white boards and rulers to work out that we needed to head slightly upstream, to a clump of trees about ten meters from our landing point. It all seemed to make sense.

Have I mentioned that I’ve not swum for a while and that I’d spent the weekend eating and drinking? Well this was the point where the chickens (or possibly pelicans) came home to roost. For the first few strokes I thought it was just getting used to the water; for the next few I was sure it was something to do with my lack of fitness. Then came the acid indigestion. It felt like lava rising from my stomach and burning in my throat. I was struggling.

Murray Other Side

For a crossing to count you must wave at the photographer

I know when things as going wrong and they were going wrong now. I was lifting my head too high. I was pulling on the water to no effect. I was in the middle of a river, I was crossing a state line. Eventually I reached the other side and stepped into the soft mud. It oozed between my toes and generally felt unpleasant. As this was a crossing we had to follow official crossing rules and touch the other bank. I now faced a quandary. Should I take the four kilometre walk back to the boat by land wearing nothing but a pair of trunks or should I swim the one hundred and fifty meters across the river. I opted for the swim.

Murray Coming Back

Coming back to hot showers and tea

What should have been a pleasant swim back was made hard by complete lack of physical conditioning. This should have been an easy swim but it turned out to be a bit of a mare. I was so thankful to reach the back of the boat, get a hot shower and be handed a cup of tea.

Would you like to see a video of the crossing

 

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Birling Gap Beach, looking west to Cuckmere Haven

This is a serious swim, this is a committing swim, this is a swim that I have wanted to do for a very long time. It starts at Cuckmere Haven and follows the coastline to Birling Gap. On one side, the Seven Sisters rear up and on the other side is the English Channel. Once you start there is no going back and there is no getting out. The cliffs plunge directly into the sea for the two-mile length. At low tide, there may be a small beach but the swim has to be done on a rising tide in the three hours before high water. This allows the water to cover the chalk bar and ensures that the current is running with you.

We had studied the tide tables and identified a suitable day. We needed time to get there and to sort ourselves out, so we looked for high tides in the afternoon. There were only a few weekends that met our requirements. The first possible weekend had been called off for various reasons and that left just one weekend when the tides were right and everyone was available. Plans were made and times set

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Five swimmers to take on the Seven Sisters

It started badly, Amy missed her train and then missed the next one by being on the wrong platform. That ate into the contingency I’d allowed. Three of us headed down to Birling Gap and hoped that Cate and Amy would drive like the wind to meet us there. We sat in the café and fortified ourselves with tea and cake. We’d taken a look at the sea and it had looked a little lumpy. Cate arrived ten minutes later. I’m sure that speed limits were used as targets on her journey down. We all piled into her car and headed over to Cuckmere Haven

Three of us were already changed but Cate and Amy needed to do the changing dance in the public car park for the amusement of the passers-by. Once ready we started the walk to the coast. We must have looked a little odd dressed only in swimming clothes as we joined the Gore-Tex clad walkers and Sunday strollers. Time was ticking on and high water was getting closer. I had no desire to swim against the current.

We stood at the end of the beach and shed our outer layers. Cate and I had brought tow floats to carry a few clothes and shoes to the end of the swim. I stuffed mine full of discarded clothes, sealed it and headed for the water.

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Strolling down to the beach trying to look inconspicuous

Getting in was fun, the waves were rearing up onto the beach making my usual practice of getting progressively wetter redundant. It was just a case of plunging in and getting on with it. Once we were all in we started heading East. The swimming was fantastic, once my body got used to the temperature I just relaxed into the stroke and enjoyed the surroundings. On one side, the cliffs dominated the sky line. Every now and again I would spot a small dot on top of the cliff that was a person looking down; on the other was just endless rolling sea. I’m sure that I had a huge smile on my face. Every now and then Sue and Pam would stop and take photographs. They seemed to be enjoying it.

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Starting the Swim

We had to make sure that we kept away from the cliff, the waves got quite large as the water got shallower. It was wonderful to only see a wall of water at one point and then be on top of our wet world the next. Amy was loving the waves, I could see the big grin on her face every time she got to the top of the wave. This is what makes sea swimming. I was not so sure that Sue was enjoying it as much.

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Swimming on top of a wave

It started to go wrong for Sue after about a mile or so. She was not used to swimming this distance in water of this temperature and she had recently lost some weight. She had started to get cold. Once the cold starts to get a grip it is very hard to shake it off. The colder she got the more worried she became. The more worried she became the colder she got. She had started on the vicious circle of hypothermia. She was getting slower, Pam stayed with her and tried to let the rest of us know that Sue was suffering but to no avail. It didn’t help that the swim was taking a lot longer than we had estimated and the chances were getting quite high that we would soon be swimming against the current.

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Bobbing along quite happily

From sea level, the Seven Sisters look remarkably similar if you are not familiar with then. Sue had convinced herself that she was not making any progress. She was in a bad way. We tried reassuring her that the we were getting closer to the end, at this point we could see the steps down to the beach in the far distance, but she didn’t believe us. The coastguard helicopter passed overhead, I’d forgotten to inform them that we were doing the swim so I have no doubt that someone had reported five idiots in the water. I half expected Sue to start waving for help.

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Up close and personal with the Seven Sisters

The beach starts long before the steps that give access to the cliffs, despite this we all felt that the official end of the swim would be the steps. I have a feeling that Sue hadn’t realised we were close to the beach and an escape from her torment. I was at the top of a wave when I spotted the start of the beach. It was directly below a big yellow spot on the cliff. This gave us a target and gave Sue something to aim for.

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Marching Sue to the car at the end of the swim

I made it to the beach first. The plan was for me to get sorted out so that we could deal with Sue as quickly as possible. Pam escorted Sue in a few minutes later. We had her wrapped in warm clothes in an instant and marched her off the beach in double quick time. Having the car sol close to the beach was a wonderful thing.

There was only one thing to do after an epic swim and that was to sit in a warm pub.

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Waiting for hot coffee and cold beer

3 rivers (3)

Don’t you just love a friendly welcome

I have a frequent day dream that I’ll open a letter from an unknown source after a chance encounter and that would lead to a life of adventure. These days of course it would be by e-mail but that doesn’t detract from the dream. The invitation came from Helen via Facebook and was due to an encounter in Estonia, it was for a day of adventure in three different rivers, Cate had been invited as well so we headed north with a tin full of cake and a car full of towels ready for a day of wild swimming.

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A killer Swan in the first bloom of youth

We met up with Helen and a few others in a car park by the River Great Ouse. The “No Swimming” sign looked a little ominous but a few of the gathered crowd were decidedly scathing about this addition to the riverside. More worrying was the adolescent swan that was very keen on protecting his patch of the river from anything that moved. He hissed at ducks, dogs and would be swimmers in equal parts. Eventually he bowed to the pressure of numbers and went downstream to terrorise smaller prey.

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So nice, so tranquil, so swim!

We slipped into the water by the bridge. This is the bit I never like. I try to explain to people that I don’t like getting wet but I’m happy being wet; no one seems to really understand this concept, either that or I’m unique in this regard. The water was pleasantly cold. It was cold enough to know it river water but not so cold to require a rapid and instant exit. We headed up-stream against the gentle current past one or two boats and a campsite. A few Swans watched our progress ready to pounce if we got too close. I was loving it, being in a river is so different to being in the clean, clinical environment of a pool. I could taste when the mud was disturbed, I could feel the flow of the river and I could see the ever changing scenery of the river bank. I felt that I could carry on swimming upstream for ever. Eventually though we had to turn round and head back. What seemed like a gentle current on the way up was now giving me a massive push on the way back. I took long strokes and waved at a few passing walkers feeling invincible whilst swimming with the flow. It was almost a shame to get out.

3 rivers (9)

Cate: dressed for a warm spring day

Wild swimming is a breakfast and cake sport. It should be either preceded or succeeded by one of these. In this respect it’s a lot like cycling. There was a café a stone’s throw away that served a proper breakfast: Fried slice, fried egg, sausage, bacon and beans. This is exactly what is needed after a swim like that; Muesli just wouldn’t enhance the experience.

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The River Cam and not a punt in sight

Our next stop involved an encounter with naturists and the River Cam. We got changed for the second swim on a private area by the side of the river. One side was inhabited by naked people and the other by swimmers struggling under dry robes with swimming costumes. It was an amusing juxtaposition of naked men watching people getting changed without exposing themselves.

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Helen, who organised the day, rising majestically from the Cam

There where steps into the water that made the whole getting wet with slightly more civilised but no more pleasurable. Everyone was saying that the water was colder than the last river but I couldn’t feel it myself. They may be more attuned to the minor variations or this may be part of the wild swimming rituals that I’m yet to be initiated into; I just don’t know.

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River beasts

We swam up stream past fields of picnickers enjoying the warm spring day. Every now and again we passed punts and canoes being inexpertly guided down the river, All they had to do was keep the boat in the wet bit but a lot of them felt compelled to hug the bank. We turned at the three willows after a bit of debate as to whether one had been chopped down. The way back was litter with Saturday punt traffic. I did wonder if the young couple appreciated moving through a bevy of swimmers, it rather shattered the pre Raphaelite splendour of the scene. A bit further down we came across some juggernaut punts. They were huge and carried many tourists, some of which wanted to ask us questions like “What are you doing in there?” I enjoyed this swim but felt a little chilly as I got changed under the watchful eyes of the naturists. We idled on the grass for a while to warm in the sun. The day could have ended there and I would have been content.

3 rivers (10)

A small reach of the River Nene

Our third river was the Nene, we arrived mid-afternoon and made our way down to the river past a chocolate box church. A small crowd of safari swimmers had gathered on the bank next to the platform ready for some aquatic fun. Some jumped in, I really don’t know how they do that, I have to slip into the water slowly, making as much fuss as possible. Three of us headed up stream in search for a bridge that we didn’t find. The current was stronger here and that made to going harder but much more satisfying. The gentle push of flowing water heading is a constant gentle reminder that this is living water and not a sterilised indoor puddle. The fast return swim was a joy, one stroke seemed to last for ages and the river bank flew by in a blur. I could get used to this. It was almost a shame to get out, but if I hadn’t I would have missed out on the fabulous chocolate cake that someone was handing out.

3 rivers (11)

Here Be Cake, all hail the Cake!

We finished the day back on the Great Ouse. The river bank was dangerously close to a pub and the will to swim was sorely tested by the proximity of beer. In the end I thought that I’d just have a small swim, maybe though one arch of the bridge and back by another. Once I’d done that my enthusiasm was renewed so I headed off up steam leaving the rest of the party behind. Soon I was happily moving through still water watching the dabbled evening sunlight through the river side trees. I was in a personal heaven. It was everything I loved, solitude, scenery and swimming all in one beautiful moment, this is why I swim.

3 rivers (1)

Not a ripple in sight

 

tallinn (2)

A small cold aquatic playground

Sometime in the late autumn swimming in cold water was very appealing but now whilst standing on the Baltic coast looking at a makeshift outdoor swimming pool in Tallinn it felt very different. The water was about as cold as it could be before being solid. The air temperature was even colder. There was ice on the ground and the odd flurry of snow in the air. The reality was very different to the romantic notion of the autumn.

Cate and I had been cold water swimming throughout the British winter to acclimatise but we’d not really experienced water quite as cold. I’d entered the three freestyle events and the breaststroke whereas Cate had entered the fly, the breaststroke and the 50 free. Neither of us was really too sure what we had let ourselves into. The time had come to find out.

Day One

Day one started with the breaststroke and Cate was first. We arrived a little early and the place seemed deserted. Slowly as the time for the opening ceremony approached people drifted in from all over the place. I was expecting the sort of atmosphere that was present at the last event we were at, but that was not the case. I’m sure that the cold, snow and complete lack of shelter had something to do with that.

We found the British supporters at the side of the pool ready to cheer anyone from the UK. It was made up of all of the British competitors, their friends, lots of big flags and very loud voices. The aim was to make as much noise as possible whenever one of us was swimming. I may be biased but I think we were possibly the best cold water supporters in the world. We cheered Cate to a medal position in the 25 breaststroke.

There was a long gap to my attempt at the same distance. The snow had turned to rain and the rain had got into my down jacket to make it a cooling jacket rather than a warming one. The cold was getting to me and I’d yet to enter the water. I was shivering before I got changed; this was not a good state of affairs. Stripping down in a cold tent didn’t help the situation. I stood nervous and shivering by the tent entrance waiting for my heat to be called.

I stood at the poolside waiting to go. I was announced to the crowd and a big cheer. I was too cold to appreciate it. The announcer then instructed us in a thick East European accent to “Remove your clothes”. The cold air hit my skin. What the hell was I doing here, standing almost naked on the Baltic coast in the winter? I was not confident. My breaststroke is appalling. I’ve never been taught to do it properly, I just guessed, I don’t even practice my appalling technique. The announcer then told us to “Enter the water”. This was the moment of truth. I went down the ladder and felt the water. It grabbed at my very core and sent piercing shards of ice into my very soul. “Set!”, “Swim!”; I started across the pool with the icy water clawing at my skin, for the first two strokes I thrashed with my legs. It was not breaststroke. I calmed down a little and the legs came into the fold. My entire focus became getting to the other end and out of this frozen hell. I was last, I didn’t care, I’d completed the length and that was all I had to do. I hauled my cold body out of the water and into the icy wind. That’s when the cold hit.

I sat in a tub of tepid water hoping it would help but I just got colder. I shivered my way to the changing tent and decided that I would not be swimming the next event. It was the one I’d come to do but I didn’t care. I was not in the right frame of mind and body.

I got back to the hotel and after a few hours’ sleep I felt a lot better. Lack of sleep and cold are a deadly combination that lead to almost instant exhaustion. I can cope with one or the other but definitely not both.

tallinn (1)

Powered by beetroot

Day Two

I felt much more positive after a good night’s sleep in a warm room. I’d heard tales of yesterday’s two hundred meters freestyle and knew that I’d made the right decision not to take part. It sounded brutal. It was run in the dark and the water temperature had dipped lower.

Cate opened the account with an impressive swim to a medal position in the ice fly. The supporters club was on top form and cheered all the British girls to the end. I didn’t see the lads as I needed to get prepared for the 100 meter freestyle. I felt warm, I’m sure that the changing tent was warmer too. I got changed and then covered myself in a pair of fleece leggings, a robe and my down jacket. I felt the warmth of the clothes against my skin. This was so much better than yesterday. This time I felt ready. I knew what the water would be like, I knew how the marshaling worked, and I wasn’t cold. I was in a good place.

I have never received a cheer from the crowd before, let alone a cheer from wildly enthusiastic flag waving crowd that was standing on pool side. It made my heart fly. For the second time this weekend I was forcibly instructed to “Take off your clothes” and then “Enter the water”. This time the water was cold but not hostile; this was somewhere I’d been before. It didn’t hold any mystery.

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Cate and her WIN face

The first length was fast, the second was a little wobbly. The water was murky and there was no black line to follow. I was very aware of the lane ropes getting far too close. I nearly swam into the pool wall on the third length. The cold was starting to take its toll. The energy was being sucked from my limbs. I had a sneaky look round at the end of the third. I was definitely taking part rather than competing. The water turned to treacle on the fourth length, the energy seemed to drain from my limbs and the end of the pool seemed further away than ever. Eventually I reached the other side. I glanced up at the results to see that I’d swum a personal best. That made me happy.

I stayed in the hot tub for a long time. It was warmer today and I was expecting the after drop. Then I made my way to the sauna. The heat in there was so welcome. I sat there and breathed in the hot damp air, this was so much better. I was being warmed from the inside and the outside. It didn’t take long for normality to return.

I was there on poolside to cheer Cate to her third medal before heading off to get changed for the 50 free. This one held no mystery. I knew the ropes, I’d swum twice the distance, and I knew how to keep warm. This one was for the fun. I’d selected my brightest trunks for this race, it seemed only fair. I lapped up the whooping of the crowd. I felt it was a fast race and looking up I saw that yet again I’d scored a personal best. I beamed all the way to the hot tub and sauna.

tallinn

 

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Two years ago I competed in the UK cold water championships; I entered every category I could with the reasoning that I would probably never do it again. That’s why, two years later I was back at the next running of the event. This time I’d persuaded a few others to join me the water was colder but it was just as much fun.

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My first event was the ninety meter freestyle. It doesn’t sound far but when the water is 1.5 degrees it makes it a long way. I was marshaled through the familiar stations around the pool before arriving at the pool side. There was a woman with a camera standing next to my lane. She asked me to give a reaction as I entered the water; I told her that that would not be a problem. Then she asked me not to swear. That, I said may be a problem.

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Normally I take a long time to get into cold water. I don’t find the whole process of getting wet that pleasurable. But this was a race and there was no time for the niceties. It was straight into the water or nothing. The cold hit me like an ice cube tied to an express train. The lady with the camera got her reaction. I started to doubt my ability to do this event. Then I had to duck under the water, more cold water pain, before the very quick countdown. The first width flashed by. I was in an end lane and could see everyone to my right. I appeared to be about level with everyone else. I turned and headed back across the pool. I may have even convinced myself that I was warming up. The water turned to cold slow flowing treacle on the third length. I just couldn’t keep up the speed. The cold clawed at every limb and held me in the water. I saw a few people streak ahead but my only concern was to finish. I wanted to be out of the icy hell and into some warmth.

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The next event was the thirty meter freestyle. After the ninety meter this was small beer. I had no doubts about completing this but I now knew exactly how cold the water was. The thought of entering it again was not that appealing. I felt smug that I had remembered to pack many pairs of swimming trunks. Slipping on cold and wet swimwear would not have enhanced the experience. The race was over in a flash, thirty meters is not a long way and there was a reward of hot Ribena and a dip in a hot tub at the end.

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The fun part of the event is the head up breast stroke. Some people take it seriously and race whilst others wear hats. My breaststroke is appalling so I chose to wear a hat. I should have spent some time decorating it but although I had the inclination I didn’t have the time. I left my battered old summer hat as is and swum wearing it. I came last but felt good for entering into the spirit of the event. I stayed a lot longer in the hot tub this time, the cold was starting to accumulate and no end of warm clothes was going to take the chill away

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There was a big gap between the individual events and the relays so I took advantage of the array of food stalls and stuffed my face with a pulled pork sandwich. It was a delight to stuff it down my throat. I followed it with a marvelous cup of hot chocolate that warmed some of the less accessible cold bits. We had decided on a relay team uniform, garish scale patterned tights, selected for there hideousness. I slipped into the changing rooms to put them on and then quickly covered them with jeans. These were not an item of clothing to be proud of.

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Our race was called and the four of us headed for the changing rooms, we all had the tights on under our clothes. I’d like to think that we emerged from the changing rooms at the same time to a chorus of whistles and cheers. The reality was a little more muted. We took our places on opposite sides of the pool. I went first and, in my mind, powered across the pool, Tom was next, this was his first experience of water this cold. Tim was next; he wore the hideous unicorn head we had bought to go with the outfit. This had the disadvantage of flopping over his eyes. He to a very unsteady line across the pool bumping on and off the lane ropes. Cate brought the hideous head back across the pool in a similar style. We all felt that we had swum the relay in the style that it should be done. We spent a long time in the sauna.

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Getting changed I discovered I’d lost my underpants. I had to suffer the annoyance of unshielded jeans on the walk to the station. It was somewhat uncomfortable. It wasn’t until I put my hand in my coat pocket that I remembered putting them there when I changed into the tights. The equilibrium returned to my life.

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