Tuesday, 29 October 2024

Wetsuits and Waves: My Battle with Grimwith's Wild Waters



So, for context, Grimwith Reservoir is situated at an elevation of 1,000 feet above sea level and is the largest reservoir managed by Yorkshire Water, holding an impressive 21,772,000 cubic meters of water and reaching depths of 41 meters - ample room for the colossal fish I’m given to understand live in it. Typically, it’s strictly off-limits to swimmers; however, this event presented a rare opportunity to conquer Grimwith's challenging waters for the very first time. I was both thrilled and slightly apprehensive to be invited to take on this swim.

I was swimming with my food friend and fellow cake lover, Jonty, who insisted we get to registration at the crack of dawn—not so much for our swim numbers, but to ensure we had time for breakfast at this cafĂ© he absolutely raved about (which, as we were an hour away, meant getting up ridiculously early). And when I say early, I mean “questioning-life-choices” early. But credit where it’s due, the breakfast was worth it. 

Well-fed, we registered and decided to head to the venue—about an hour’s drive from registration—for a quick pre-swim recce. Just as we were about to head to the reservoir, we got a text: due to the conditions, the swim course had been altered for safety. I wasn’t fazed; if anything, I love the tougher swims (more on that later…).

 

We were pulling out of the parking space, when we spotted it—sweet heaven. Given the swim was shaping up to be a rough one, we reasoned that some extra “fuel” was practically essential. Dashing inside, we were greeted by shelves overflowing with every sweet imaginable, from timeless classics to sweets I hadn’t seen since my childhood. And there, like a beacon of nostalgia, were my all-time favourites—alphabet letters! Naturally, I grabbed more than one bag, and it would surprise no one to hear that one of them didn’t even survive the hour-long drive, during which time I spent the whole journey fiercely guarding my stash and refusing to share a single letter—only to discover, when we arrived, that if I’d been polite enough to offer him one, he’d have told me he didn’t actually like them anyway.

We arrived in good time to find the conditions were far worse than I’d anticipated. The wind was relentless, tearing across the water with a force that drowned out every word. Jonty, however, seemed rather pleased. I caught him muttering that the forced silence was, “Quite pleasant, really,” with the faintest hint of a grin. It seemed the weather was doing him a few favours in granting him a rare and much needed break from my continuous talking.

The wind was whipping across the water, churning it into frothy whitecaps, and from the shoreline, they appeared quite formidable, rolling higher than I had been expecting. We stood there, watching intently as the safety crew wrestled with the buoys, struggling to reposition them for the new course. Their efforts were met with the relentless wind, which seemed determined to thwart their every move, making the task look more challenging by the minute. This was the point that we began to question whether the swim would actually happen. However, as I spotted some delicious-looking pastries in the clubhouse, so I thought that if the swim were to be cancelled, the day wouldn’t be a total loss.

We watched from the shoreline as the crew secured the lines, and then the announcement came: the swim briefing would take place in 30 minutes. I dashed back to the car, knowing I would need every second of that time—and a significant amount of physical effort—to squeeze into my wetsuit (which felt uncomfortably snug) and slather on the Vaseline (yep, I remembered this time!). With urgency fuelling me, I sprang into action to get ready for the start line. Well, I say “sprang,” but it was as much springing as a tight wetsuit would allow.

The safety briefing, acclimatisation dip, and a new plan were established for Jonty. Since we would need to complete two loops of the course by exiting the water and re-entering for the second loop, this was manageable for most but required a quick change of strategy for Jonty, who had only one leg. The plan was straightforward: Jonty would get in the water, take off his prosthetic leg, and pass it to me. I would then walk back to the shoreline with his leg, where his wife would retrieve it and bring it back to the exit point for us to repeat for the second loop. Simple, right? You’d think so...

But for some inexplicable reason, Jonty decided to abandon the plan altogether (which he later explained was due to his realisation that the original plan was too “long-winded”). Instead of handing me his leg as we had discussed, he simply took it off and hurled it toward the shoreline, completely bypassing the middleman—me. However, as I was unaware of the change, I made an ill-fated attempt to catch the flying prosthetic and ended up plunging into the water in a spectacular display of flailing limbs and lost dignity, after which, there was no time to wallow in the aftermath, or to check the leg had made landfall, because Jonty was already powering through the turbulent water. Following, I quickly realised that this was not going to be an easy swim.

Jonty disappeared from sight within moments, and I was forced to stay sharp as the churning, tea-brown water tossed me around (though I couldn't help but think that the murky colour had its perks—any massive fish (or fish in general really, I’m still pretty terrified of all sizes) lurking below would stay blissfully invisible, right?). Without a doubt, these were the toughest swim conditions I’d ever faced. At points, front crawl was out of the question, and I had to resort to breaststroke (or my version of it); I’m pretty sure I swallowed half the reservoir in the process, and by the time I hit the home stretch, the water was tossing me around so wildly that I was practically airborne, my arms flailing in empty air with the water below me. Rather ironically, after all the fuss I made in having to wear it, I was beyond grateful for the buoyancy of my wetsuit—and even more for remembering to slather on Vaseline. In these conditions, spotting required constant head movement, and without it, I feared the relentless neck chafing would have turned a challenging swim into something far worse.

After the first loop, I was feeling decidedly battered, so far, it had been a rough swim, but I knew I still had enough left in me to make it around again. As I got out (inelegantly) I scanned the shoreline but saw no sign of Jonty’s leg. This left me with two possible scenarios: either a) he was ahead of me, or b) his aim had been so spectacularly off that his leg was now resting somewhere at the bottom of the reservoir. If it was option b, he’d be hearing about his awful “legendary throwing skills” every time we trained together from now on, and so would everyone else who’d listen. 

Let’s gloss over the brief walk between the loops, where I managed to trip over the safety barrier (a moment forever captured on video for all eternity by my daughter), and skip straight to the second loop, which proved to be more challenging than the first. The wind showed no mercy, swirling from every direction. Just when I thought I had found a nano-second of calm, the wind would pick up again, and I found myself fighting against yet more choppy waves, struggling to maintain my rhythm. It felt like I was swimming in a blender, with every stroke a battle.

My muscles were burning, and the constant need to adjust my stroke to combat the waves was exhausting. Every stroke felt like a test of endurance against the unpredictable conditions. It was wild, messy, and absolutely ridiculous—but for all its challenges, I was enjoying every chaotic second of it. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest—not just from exertion, but from the sheer thrill of being out there. I was *loving it (*not every second of it—there were some moments that were pretty miserable, specifically the volume of water I’d swallowed and, even worse, the moment the alphabet letters I’d eaten earlier decided to make an unwanted reappearance as I battled one particular rogue wave). Ah, the joys of open-water swimming!

After a long, hard-fought 50 minutes, I was thrilled to have completed the swim relatively unscathed. No wetsuit rash, no major disasters (excluding the impressively stubbed toe from my run-in with the safety barrier, which technically couldn’t be counted as a “swimming” disaster). But I’d done it—earned my first medal in 18 months! After what felt like a lifetime of injuries and breaks (me, not just the things I tripped over), I was beyond pleased to place 3rd in my age category. (Granted, there might have only been three swimmers in my age group, but I made the conscious decision not to check, just in case that meant I’d also placed last as well as third). Most importantly, though, this experience showed me that despite my enforced break from it, I hadn’t lost my love for open water swimming. Being back out there, feeling every stroke and battling every wave, I truly loved every moment.

And Jonty? Somehow—don’t ask me how—I actually managed to swim past him. He emerged from the water a full three minutes after me to be reunited with his leg, which, as it turned out, had made a safe landing on dry ground after his infamous throw. Now, granted, he did have to put his leg back on, only to take it off again for our second loop. And yes, his Garmin somehow clocked him as swimming an extra 100 meters, but… I’m still calling it a win!


One final thing, thank you for bearing with me through the blog drought and for sticking around to read the few I’ve managed to post. I truly appreciate it! There will be plenty more coming next year. Promise. 

Tuesday, 3 September 2024

The Great Wetsuit Wrestle

 The Great Wetsuit Wrestle



 

I’ve been kindly invited to swim in an event next week. I accepted. Then immediately panicked at the prospect. For context, it makes me sad to think that I’ve turned down several invites since the IISA world championships in January 2023, having made the decision to ease up on any training, and just swim at a more relaxed, and dare I add, more enjoyable pace. I usually have some swim or other lined up, so this long gap has been unusual for me. 

 

For this next paragraph I should mention that my usual tendency to embellish and dramatise my blogs when it comes to writing about my swimming, will take a break for a second – but shall, rest-assured, continue in full force immediately after. But right now, I’m going to drop the theatrics for a moment for context. The truth is, this gap wasn’t something I had planned, but I’ve been dealing with a horrid neck issue—a retrolisthesis of my C5-6, but thanks to my amazing physiotherapist, a ton of hard work, and her green light, I’ve finally felt capable of swimming a decent distance again. It may not be as far as some of my past escapades, but, it’s progress. And honestly, I’m absolutely thrilled about it! 


Oh, I also broke my elbow (and my favourite sunglasses) in, you'll be surprised to hear, a spectacular and graceless fall when I got my toe caught in my trouser leg, which took longer than I had hoped to heal.

 

Right, back to the blog - 

 

The Swim Buddy, forever having my back, offered to swim with me, before immediately realising the date clashed with her daughter having a baby, and retracted her offer. To make amends, unbeknownst to me, she decided to walk her dog at the venue of the swim and do a little scouting mission at the same time. This was something I was both deeply thankful for and simultaneously terrified of. On one hand, I appreciate her thoroughness, but on the other, I braced myself for the unsettling discoveries I knew, without question, she would come back with. True to form, she left no stone unturned, diving deep into every detail. 

 

Quite unexpectedly, she FaceTimed me while I was at the hairdressers to walk me through her findings. She gave me a live tour of the location and shared all her insights and observations in real-time. My hairdresser, ever accommodating, paused mid-cut so we could both listen in on the lake’s particulars, however, as The Swim Buddy spoke, I could see my hairdresser’s face visibly blanch when she mentioned the likely water temperature, and after only a minute, declared, “I’d never swim there—or anywhere colder than the Mediterranean after it’s been warmed by the blazing August sun, for that matter,” before stepping away for a moment to make us a coffee while I continued my call, remarking that talking about the cold lake had left her feeling a deep chill and a strong craving for something warmer.

 

The Swim Buddy did her best to fully immerse me in the FaceTime tour of the lake, but she was difficult to hear over the wind howling through the microphone (which, if I heard her correctly, was a characteristic feature of the area), and the video was a chaotic blur of the reservoir, the path, her leg, her dog, and a cloud all shaking around as she tried to give me the grand tour. Needless to say, I wasn’t entirely convinced I was getting the full experience, nevertheless, from what I could make out, the key points were:

 

The venue is the largest reservoir managed by Yorkshire Water, boasting a massive capacity of 21,772,000 cubic meters of water and reaching depths of up to 41 meters. In other words, it’s enormous and, as a result, probably incredibly cold— or, to quote verbatim, “looks f**ing cold… and dark”

There’s machinery and strong currents lurking beneath the surface, but she was quick to reassure me that since Yorkshire Water has sanctioned the event (*swimming isn't permitted at the reservoir usually), they’ve “probably” turned off the machinery that creates the heavy currents. Of course, she couldn’t actually see where the machinery was because it was far too dark. So, suggested that whilst I was free to enjoy the swim, I would need to be extra careful not to graze my knees or snag a fingernail on any of the hidden contraptions.

She informed me that the reservoir is generously stocked with brown trout, rainbow trout, pike, and perch, all of which, according to her sources, are “a fairly good size” (which I interpreted as massive). She even noted that the fish she observed leaping from the water looked less like ordinary fish and more like a whale breaching the surface. So, if I did happen to encounter one, I might need to brace myself for some turbulence.

 

She finally added that despite being terribly windy, deep, dark, and cold with hidden machinery and an abundance of huge fish, it was also a fantastic, unique opportunity to swim in a place that’s typically off-limits. The chance to experience such a distinctive and rarely accessible venue would make it a memorable, exhilarating swim (fingers crossed it's the kind of experience to look back on with a sense of fulfilment, instead of the kind that ends up as a headline news story for all the wrong reasons…).

 

With the event just around the corner, I thought it wise to squeeze in at least one practice swim in my wetsuit, especially since it’s required for the event. To be honest, I was less concerned about any chafing issues I might have, and more because I had massive concerns about whether it would still fit me without requiring a shoehorn to get me in. It’s been 4 years since I last swum in it, and it was tight then… I wasn’t entirely sure if it would still cooperate or if I’d end up battling to get on a suit that had somehow ‘mysteriously shrunk’ since I had it on last. 

The thought of navigating this potential (who am I kidding?) wardrobe challenge was unnerving. Fortunately, The Swim Buddy knew I would have some issues with getting the damn thing on, and came good again by generously offering to help me out and agreeing to join me for a test swim that I hoped to help iron out the struggle I knew it was going to be, and, meant I’d at least have a someone to share the awkwardness of rediscovering how to get into a wetsuit that may or may not still fit.

From the moment I started wrestling the wetsuit over my ankles, it was clear this wasn’t going to go smoothly. I was determined to push through, knowing that The Swim Buddy wouldn’t be around with a shoehorn or a pair of cuff-cutting scissors if I found myself struggling to get the wetsuit on. The Swim Buddy joked that it was already looking like an attempt to squeeze me into a sausage casing as I struggled with a particularly stubborn and uncooperative wetsuit. It resisted every effort to fit, and I soon found myself contorting into positions I hadn’t tried in the last four years—and, as it turned out, didn’t have the flexibility for anymore.

A little longer than a few minutes later I was finally in. The effort involved was nothing short of a full-body workout. There was a lot of hopping, tugging, and twisting as I attempted to wrangle the neoprene into place. The Swim Buddy had to stifle her laughter as I practically somersaulted into it. By the time I was fully zipped up, I was already out of breath, and we hadn’t even hit the water yet. It was a victory, but not without its battle scars—mainly to my pride.

I hadn’t exactly been looking forward to swimming in the wetsuit, dreading the experience from the start. But, to my surprise, it wasn’t nearly as awful as I’d imagined. Once I got going, I actually felt like I was gliding through the water, making impressive progress. However, my swim watch had a different perspective. Despite my feeling of soaring through the water at great speed, the watch didn’t record it that way. Instead, it stubbornly insisted on displaying times that suggested I was in fact not moving with the powerful glide I thought I was. 

Of course, we were halfway through our swim, at the absolute furthest point from our clothes, when I suddenly felt the familiar, irritating rub of my wetsuit on my neck. Naturally, the problem decided to strike just when we were the most inconveniently far from our kit bags. It was painfully clear that I was paying the price for my oversight: forgetting to slather on the Vaseline. It was a harsh, unwelcome reminder of how crucial it is to apply some kind of chafing remedy before swimming—because nothing says "memorable swim" quite like an uncomfortable neck rub.

We tentatively made our way back to the shoreline, and as soon as I peeled myself out of my wetsuit, I let out a deep sigh of relief—okay, more a dramatic exhalation than a deep sigh. There I was, finally free, and reminded just how much I’d rather not deal with neoprene at all, however, despite the struggle to get it on and the neck issue, it wasn't as disastrous as I’d dreaded. The suit had its moments of discomfort, but in the end, it wasn’t quite the horror show I’d imagined. It turns out that, even with the few hiccups, I might just survive this wetsuit ordeal after all.

With the training swim done and dusted, and the event just a few days away, I took a moment to consider what I needed to ensure that I fully enjoy the swim, and I also that I didn’t suffer afterwards. The Swim Buddy, ever helpful, did nothing for my ego when she reminded me of the challenge that lay ahead in getting into the wetsuit, and casually suggested that, given the struggle it had been, and because I knew there was no way to magically shrink myself to fit into the wetsuit without a time machine, I might want to consider setting my alarm for dawn if I hoped to be suited up in time for the race (3pm). As if my bruised pride needed another reminder of how tight that neoprene had become, her suggestion was a stark confirmation that getting it on would be just as difficult for the swim.

Next, prior to the swim I would need a visit to the chemist, where I planned to stock up on Vaseline, hoping it would prevent a repeat of the neck-chafing catastrophe, and given the soreness from all the ridiculous positions I’d put myself in, I planned to stock up on Radox whilst I was there, and finally, investing in a foam roller seemed only prudent. Given the potential injuries from wrangling my way into and out of the wetsuit, a foam roller would be a crucial ally. I’d need every bit of help I could get to return to some semblance of normalcy after that swim—if not just to soothe the aches and pains from my valiant efforts with the wetsuit.

 

Wish me luck—because I’m definitely going to need it. Between the wrestling battle with my wetsuit, nursing my bruised ego, and the gymnastics required just to squeeze into the thing, this swim is already gearing up to be yet another overly dramatic saga. I’m just hoping I come out with fewer neoprene burns (mental note: don’t forget the Vaseline!) and maybe, just maybe, although highly unlikely, if I am lucky, my dignity still intact!


 

*It's important to point out that usually you can’t you swim in this reservoir. Yorkshire Water state: ‘…has lots of hidden dangers. The water is very cold (even in summer) and cold water shock can kill. Reservoir supplies water to be treated, so there's machinery and strong currents under the water. There may also be blue-green algae, which causes rashes and severe illnesses.


 

One final thing, thank you so much for taking the time to read this blog! Your support means the world to me. If you enjoyed the content and want to stay connected, please follow me on Instagram @openwaterwoman for more updates, insights, and *behind-the-scenes moments. Your continued engagement and encouragement inspire me to keep sharing.


*when I say "behind-the-scenes" what I mean is me trying to take a selfie next to the selfie Queen Claire without looking like a total amateur!


 

 

NEW BLOG...





 

COMING SOON...


 




 

Friday, 16 February 2024

COLD WATER ACCLIMATISATION



My outdoor swimming experiences have been rather limited lately. My "swims" have amounted to nothing more than brief plunges in a friend's pool, and actually, those dips were more like prolonged standing sessions. The last time I truly ventured into open water was a casual dip in the Adriatic Sea back in October, and I won’t pretend I was battling icy waters because I wasn’t…

Let me elaborate on my hiatus – it's been a 16-month long saga with a persistent (and until last month), undiagnosed neck issue which is finally (FINALLY!!!) sorted! And as if that weren't enough drama, in an epic display of uncoordinatedness, I took an overly theatrical tumble involving my own leg and my platform Converse, which resulted in an elbow fracture. I could have swum sooner, but, I had no idea how long it takes all the ligaments and tendons around the break take to heal (ages, in case you were wondering). There's also been this nagging feeling of responsibility, knowing that despite SwimYourSwim's stellar safety team, taking a dip meant I could potentially have put others at risk should I need rescuing.


And so, back to now, and I’m ready to get back in. I know that I’ll be unable to pick up where I left off, it would be unsafe to think otherwise, and to ensure I avoid cold water shock, incapacitation and hypothermia, I know I should acclimatise myself to the colder temperatures through gradual exposure. So, I thought before I get back in, I’d start with refreshing my knowledge on acclimatisation – understanding what it is, why it's important, and how it affects my body, and I wanted to share my findings with you.


SO… to get started. Acclimatisation refers to the advantageous physiological adjustments that occur with repeated exposure to either hot or cold environments. And the reason we should acclimatise is that it lessens the cold shock's impact. It’s important to also add that acclimatisation doesn't shield you from incapacitation, swimming failure, or hypothermia. For me the Gatorade Sports Science Institute has broken it down into easily understandable language (and has some interesting research findings. I’ve added the link at the bottom), saying that it’s the biological adaptations that happen when you acclimatise that will reduce the physiological strain, such as heart rate and body temperature, improve comfort, enhance exercise capacity, and decrease the risks of serious cold-related illnesses during exposure to (in this case) cold stress. 


And the great thing is that Mike Tipton, a Professor of Human & Applied Physiology at the Extreme Environments Laboratory in the School of Sport, Health & Exercise Science at the University of Portsmouth, with over three decades of expertise in thermoregulation, environmental physiology, and survival at sea, and a staggering 400+ publications in these fields, (so he's a pretty significant figure), says that it can take as few as six, three-minute immersions in cold water can reduce your cold shock response by as much as 50% - which is like music to my ears!!!


It is important to point out that he further emphasises that the process is more intricate than a simple equation. While your body can adjust to cold conditions through repeated outdoor swims, whether this adaptation proves beneficial hinges on the body's reactions to adverse stimuli.


He further explains that there are three physiological responses linked with entering cold water that present potential risks. Firstly, the cold shock response which manifests as uncontrollable gasping, rapid breathing, and increased heart rate for approximately 90 seconds upon immersion. Secondly, the cooling of nerves and muscles near the body's surface, notably in the limbs, can lead to incapacitation and hinder exercise when cooled significantly. Lastly, hypothermia occurs when the deep body temperature drops below 35°C, typically taking at least 30 minutes to develop in an adult exposed to cold water, and each of these responses undergoes varying degrees of adaptation with repeated exposure to cold water, and each of these responses adjusts differently with repeated exposure to cold water.


So, how do we go about acclimatising?


Dr Heather Massey a swimmer and a researcher at the Extreme Environments Laboratory at the University of Portsmouth says: ‘The secret to acclimatising to cold water is just to swim in it, often – at least once a week, and preferably two or three, gradually extending the time that you stay in the water,’ she advises though to, ‘get out if you are not comfortable, and don’t set time goals for staying in the water.’


Leon Fryer, owner of SwimYourSwim, and widely recognized as a foremost authority on cold water and ice swimming, having overseen the highest number of successful official ice miles globally (currently at 124) when asked the best way to acclimatise, echoes Dr Massey’s advice saying: “Gradually. Just keep swimming. Start in the summer and work your way down (in temperature) nice and gradually…”


And that’s what I fully intend to do. There’s no doubt that there will be some pretty uncomfortable moments to start off with, it’s not my first rodeo, I already have good idea of how this will go and how my body will respond, and so to help make it as pleasanter experience as possible, I have also roped in a few swim friends to yell encouraging and motivational words at me from the lake side (this will also serve to drown out the awful swear words that will come out of my mouth). I’ve given the heads up (hinted massively – which is the same thing really) to the Swim Buddy that her home-made lemon drizzle cake will most definitely work wonders as part of my post swim recovery, and bought myself a new costume, which will be of no practical help whatsoever, but I think well delinitely help to motivate me - 100%. It was also in the sale and I liked the pattern… so there's also that... I really cannot wait!


Before I go, I feel it's important to issue a brief, but really important, caution. Whilst there are many reported benefits to cold water swimming, as I’ve just touched on, cold water swimming carries notable risks, with cold shock being the most dangerous reaction. Please prioritise your safety by researching its potential dangers, and if you’re uncertain, seek medical advice before swimming. I’m not an expert, and am only touching on acclimatisation in this blog, so, I’ve added the details of a paper in the British Journal of Sports Medicine, offering strategies to mitigate potential risks linked to cold water immersion written by Mike Tipton and his colleagues for your reference, along with some other relevant sites to visit. 


Thanks for checking this out! I hope you found it, along with the links I've included at the bottom, informative, helpful, and actionable. 


Don't forget to give me a follow on Instagram and TikTok (yep, I've caved in), where I'll be sharing updates regularly!


 Reference:


The information covered here by Professor Mike Tipton (2022) is available to read here: https://www.port.ac.uk/news-events-and-blogs/blogs/health-and-wellbeing/cold-water-swimming-what-you-can-do-to-acclimatise-to-the-temperature

 

Gatorade Sports Science Institute website: https://www.gssiweb.org/sports-science-exchange/article/sse-153-heat-acclimatization-to-improve-athletic-performance-in-warm-hot-environments). 

 

Dr Heather Massey for OSS article HOW TO ACCLIMATISE. The science and practise of adapting to cold water at: https://www.outdoorswimmingsociety.com/how-to-acclimatise-to-cold-water/

SwimChatSnack full interview with Leon Fryer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbB1LAYCXbA

For advice and guidance on minimising the risk: Mike Tipton et al, Cold water therapies: minimising risks, British Journal of Sports Medicine (2022). DOI: 10.1136/bjsports-2022-105953