I’ve really done very little swimming (indoors or out) since the end of August. Just to clarify, my swimming hiatus wasn’t due to laziness but rather the aftermath of a “spectacular” encounter with gravity, which resulted in a pavement head-butt, a grazed knee, a broken elbow, a very shiny eye socket, and the tragic demise of a beloved pair of sunglasses (I’m truly devastated), and whilst I healed really well, it was at an infuriatingly sluggish pace for my liking. Despite being able to dip back into the water after three weeks (and I use the term "swim" quite loosely here), I erred on the side of caution by confining myself to the pool. The lack of confidence in venturing into open water lingered, and I had no intention of jeopardizing my safety or that of anyone in my vicinity.
And so, today was the chosen day for my grand return. I finally felt ready to get back in. Fate seemed to grace the occasion with a torrential downpour of biblical proportions, and I could have cancelled, waited it out for a cold, crisp, sunny day, but the allure of cake at the swim was not just any cake—it was the coveted birthday cake (and please, no prying inquiries about age). Given that it was in my honour, it seemed egregiously impolite to be a no-show, especially when Jonty had gone the extra mile of making a trip to Marks and Spencer to fetch a Colin the Caterpillar cake for me. Honestly, in all likelihood, I would have maneuvered my way through a hurricane just to indulge in a (large) slice.
After faffing for a substantial period, exchanged pleasantries with my swim clan for an unusually prolonged amount of time, and receiving a gentle nudge from Leon that I was, in fact, there to swim, I eventually mustered the motivation to get my act together and got ready to get in, which turned out to not be as seamless as it should have been. Who knew that attempting to get into my swimming costume out of the boot of my car while maintaining a semblance of dryness, could prove to be a more of a formidable task than I expected? I’ll just sum it up: my hot water bottle and a lone wool sock took an impromptu dip in a puddle, while both gloves and my hairbrush somehow, and it’s still a mystery to me, fell onto the muddy grass verge.
Once suited and yes, booted, I waded in. As I did, the safety crew shared a warning/dropped the bombshell about an unusual number of weeds at the entry point, and to be careful. This news was very unwelcome, as I had only planned a very short dip not too far from the shoreline whilst I reintroduced myself to the open water.
I’ll be honest, an entanglement with A LOT of aquatic flora was not the welcome back I was hoping for, but after a short deliberation, and Jonty threatening to eat all the cake if I didn’t get in, I decided to be brave and swim through them. Sadly, their reach extended far beyond my initial estimation, resulting in a reenactment of Day of the Triffids. I valiantly 'wrestled' with them, but I began feeling a bit panicky, and in my typical overly theatrical manner of course (to create the illusion of greater bravery than I actually possessed, of course...). Anyway, the long and short of it was that I, in what I deemed a display of unparalleled bravery, flapped my arms around in some kind of unrecognisable stroke amongst the aquatic flora. I kept up this spectacle for a whopping 2 minutes and 58 seconds—at 6.7oc before deciding that was enough time to question both my sanity and my understanding of what constituted a reasonable ‘swim’ for my first time back. Deciding I had showcased my bravery quota for the day, I gracelessly waded back to the welcoming embrace of dry land to don whatever bits of clothing had miraculously stayed dry.
Once out and back in the cafe Jonty arrived with Colin, and given that it was my birthday, I naturally claimed the majority share of the cake. I could have easily laid sole ownership to the entire thing, but when someone puts in the effort to buy you a cake and delivers a rather unique and, let's say, interesting version of "Happy Birthday" it's deemed, at least by societal standards (not necessarily my own), the pinnacle of bad manners not to graciously share a modest slice. If only to quiet them down, of course…(I should add, before anyone thinks to lynch me, that I was warned by Jonty beforehand that it would be truly awful…),
And so, my grand return, and ...in the midst of what I labelled some pretty "dangerous and treacherous" conditions (read: a bit too weed infested for my liking), three minutes, albeit shorter than my ideal swim duration, felt just lovely. Contrary to my expectations, there was no anticipated icy chill, or very many sweary moments and, the bit I’m most proud of, I successfully navigated through what could have been a disastrous entanglement ordeal with *minimal fuss (let's be honest, there was a fair bit of fuss).
It's been a minute since I wrote my last blog, and so I'd like to say a massive thanks for returning, and also, brace yourself for more to come soon...
