Hi all! I’m just going to get stuck into it as I am excited about this one!
Cold water swimming is a miserable thrill. I have only dipped for one winter season so far, albeit cautiously, and this is my second cold season. I’ve swum in many cold pools before (Stantonbury, I’m thinking of you!), but open water is a different feeling. At least in indoor pools, out on the poolside, the air is warm - in the open water, the best you can hope for is a shipping container to get changed in before stepping out into the fresh air. The water is colder too. A “cold” pool, ready for racing, is set somewhere between 25 and 28 degrees. The lake I was about to climb into was 8 degrees. I knew it was going to be chilly but I was excited - it is an exciting thrill to wade into cold water, knowing that it will be cold, and knowing that that is where the fun is.
I was taking part in a University of Nottingham Wild Swimming Society cold water workshop. The Wild Swim Soc is a new society, and I wish they had formed earlier so I could have joined years ago! The workshop was hosted by two amazing ladies from Her Spirit, a local women’s only triathlon, open water and running group that trains at Spring Lakes. We met these two women, both dressed in Dry Robes, and after getting changed, we all congregated in the café and they took us through the fantastic cold water briefing they had prepared. We all introduced ourselves, and it was clear that there was a wide variety of people who were taking part - some experienced cold water swimmers, some who enjoyed the occasional dip, and those just along for a new experience. They gave us advice on looking after ourselves (and those we swam with!) before, during and after the swim. The points that stood out to me the most were:
Never get into cold water for the first time if you are already feeling cold;
To keep chatting with your friends in the water to check how they are doing;
To focus on thoroughly warming up by getting dressed and eating/drinking immediately post-swim, rather than going home and trying to warm up on the way home (“I’ll have a warm shower at home!” - bad)
We all listened to the information in the workshop, getting increasingly eager to get into the water, and we were led down to the steps on the lakeside.
One by one we shuffled down the steps and into the water, fixing caps and tow floats and looking at one another apprehensively. It’s an odd feeling as you first step in and make your way towards the step into the water. The initial shock to your feet is quickly quietened and ignored as the water starts to climb up your legs. Your legs feel the chill but can brush it off. When the water passes your hips is when it gets interesting, as certain areas acclimatise to the cold. Once the water is up to the belly, you can really feel the water beginning to seep into the wetsuit and chill the body, leaving a strange prickling feeling on the skin as the wetsuit starts to warm up. Almost at the end of the steps now, and the shoulders require a big commitment to push under before you’re fully in the water. Off the steps I go, my feet pushing me out into the lake further and becoming weightless in the cold. I swam away from the steps and waited for my friends to get in, treading water to keep warm as much as to stay afloat. We all got in and chatted, laughing at the temperature and how good it starts to feel after a few minutes. Photos were taken from the side of the lake, and the ladies running the workshop pointed out targets to swim to, and we swam to each as a group. It felt easy and safe, as we were never far from the exit and we were encouraged to climb out if we felt too cold.
After a bit of swimming, the group left in the water started to reduce as people were satisfied with their swim and climbed out. I fancied another experience. One of the Society committee members had got in the water in a regular swimsuit and a beanie (very bloody impressive!), and I wanted to see how I would fare in skins, having never done it before this late in the season. I climbed out and peeled off my wetsuit as fast as I could, leaving my swim short on. Shivering, I climbed back into the water. It’s funny how much colder it was without my wetsuit. For the first time in a long time, I was having to regulate my breathing into long, slow breaths instead of the short sharp gasps I wanted to take. My body prickled in the cold, and after some nice words about how good I would feel after getting out from one of the ladies on the side, I swam off to rejoin the group that was still swimming at the other end of the course. As soon as I reached them and said hi, I turned around. I no longer felt like sticking around! On the way back I could feel my arms and legs getting colder and slowing down slightly, and before long I was out, wrapped in my towel and getting dry!
After getting changed, we sat warming up in the café with hot chocolates, and I reflected on the swim. The thing I always take away from wild swims, especially cold swims, is the feeling of presence. After the initial thrill of getting in and acclimatising, I start to feel every part of my body getting colder. My wrists and feet feel it the most, but every part of me that is in that water seems to receive more focus. My breathing becomes longer and deeper to try to warm me up, and it demands effort and attention not to give in to the shallow gasps I want to take. Even the position my body sits in the water is evaluated, usually taken for granted after spending so long swim training, as I assess how close my neck and chin are from the water level (if my chin dips into the cold water for an extended period, I am guaranteed to shiver!). I love this feeling of presence, away from the head noise, Uni deadlines or what’s for dinner, and I settle into thinking about how my back slowly warms up under my clothes or the gentle warming my hands receive from my flask of hot chocolate. Sitting around a table with some new friends, who are also shivering, while talking about eBay purchases and bread recipes makes the cold much easier to cope with too!