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
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!
Great blog as ever
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