“My inability to swim is no longer something to joke about.”
Those are the words that I sent to Jenny via text message on 26th May after I had attempted my first swim in “open water” at Salford Quays.
I am not a very good swimmer; I can swim, if the definition of swim involves thrashing about in the water with a great deal of effort for very little in the way of forward movement. As such, I have been an infrequent visitor to the swimming pool for many, many years. I don’t enjoy swimming. It results in my feeling dizzy and tired. I normally finish a session in the pool with a headache.
Given these facts, why did I sign up for the Great North Swim – a mile-long forray across a cold and choppy corner of Lake Windermere? Simple: Peer pressure – I was not willing to suffer the taunts of Jenny and the rest of the Delaney clan. So I signed up!
In the months leading up to the event, I took a “head-in-the-sand” approach to training – I did nothing about learning to swim. When it got to a month before the date of the swim, I decided that I’d better get down to the pool and see how much of a mountain I had left myself to climb. Jenny, who has the ability to glide through water with grace and consummate ease, was recruited to help me learn how to swim. She found an online resource aimed at parents who want to teach their children how to swim: www.uswim.com. We watched the “Stroke Development” videos, aimed at kids aged 3 and over. We took notes. We recited the points we needed to learn from each lesson. We watched the techniques that were employed to develop a good freestyle stroke. I called little “Johnny”, aged 6 years and 8 months, a bastard.
We headed down to Manchester Aquatics Centre a couple of times and things were progressing well; I seemed to have grasped the kicking element OK, even the “catch-up” freestyle was acceptable. Breathing was more of an issue, but I was getting there.
The wet suit that I had ordered had arrived; Jenny was away with work, so I decided to grab the bull by the horns and head for Salford Quays on my own and try a bit of this open water swimming lark. I arrived early and nervous. I collected my card and paid for the session. I took an age to get changed into my wetsuit. I put my things in a locker, put my non-refundable 20p in the slot and then closed the door. I then opened the door five seconds later to retrieve the compulsory swimming cap from the locker and then set about finding another 20p…
I stepped out onto the jetty and lowered myself into the cold water. I looked around me and tried to copy what everybody else was doing; some people seemed to be doggy-paddling themselves out to the course, so I followed them. They then started to do front crawl, so I put my face in the water and… no! I was not happy about putting my face in the water at all. I tried again one more time… no! Definitely not. So, I struggled around the course doing short, panicked breaths and doggy-paddle the whole time. By the end of this solitary lap, my left calf had cramped up. I had managed around 400 metres – in less than three weeks, I’d be expected to do over 1600 metres! My inability to swim was no longer a laughing matter.