My swimming this year is much slower than last year - I'm sluggish. No matter how much training I'm doing I seem to be going backwards. I don't know anymore what to judge myself against. I'm getting most demoralised in my club sessions where I'm just not able to keep up with the others in my lane. My lane mates say "Hey Sally, don't beat yourself up, you've swam the Channel!" but it's just not like that. It kind of slightly nullifies what I've done (to me). What a hair shirt.
On Wednesdays I get in and do 1500m or so before the club session even begins. So by the time the main set starts I've already swum up to around 2500m or maybe around 3km. I beat myself up that I'm tired and I can't keep up with the guys during the main set. I get dejected and frustrated. It's a battle to stay in the water, and I'm my own worst enemy. On Thursday nights I'm knackered - possibly after Wednesday's two hour session. Or that could be just another excuse. I could just be crap.
Swimming in the club just makes me sad and frustrated these days. Can't shake it off.
However, swimming on my own is still a fantastic and beautiful thing to do. Maybe I am really just cut out to do my own thing.
On Saturday I manage to get down - twice - to London Fields lido - a new heated outdoor 50 metre pool in the heart of Hackney. It's fabulous to swim in a 50m pool - and fabulous to swim outdoors. The first swim is when our club go down there in the morning - driven out of our own pool because of a power cut. It's so lovely - a glorious day - I decide to go down again in the afternoon and just lose myself in the clear water. Because no-one knows it's open yet, it's not very busy. And because it's still April I guess. I'm the only one in the lane. Up and down and up and down the pool. The end-of-day sun making the light a very egg yolk yellow on the water. And still a little chill in the air. Fantastic. In the morning with the club we manage to swim about an hour's worth of session. In the afternoon I decide to just swim continuously. I manage a 55 minute swim. It's amazing how - if you aren't used to it - that this kind of swim really hurts. My hands start aching (well, my left hand - it's always the bloody left) and I felt a bit nauseous. Good to have done though. I'm going to try to find this week to do a two or two and a half hour swim. Not sure when, mind you.
On Sunday I'm supposed to be rendezvousing with Katie at Parliament Hill Lido. On the way she calls to tell me that her train has been cancelled and she won't make it. Darn. It's always better to have company when it's borderline cold. It's been gloriously sunny but pretty windy this weekend. I get to the lido hoping it's going to be the Magic 10C but it's 9C. Shoot! I wail at the lifeguard. He explains that the wind churning up the surface of the water has kept the temperature down. There goes my intention of doing the mile. I'll see how I go. It doesn't help my confidence when I look out at the pool - and there is only one person in the water and she's wearing a gimp suit-like wetsuit. The wind is making the water all chopped up with little waves. Brrr.
Change into swimming stuff and heart is beating fast. Into the shallow end and walk a few paces and then duck under the water. Up, catch my breathe, start swimming. I'm swimming along trying to think of how to describe the way your body feels when swimming in this temperature. The obvious things - ice cream headache (not today), hurting hands and feet that feel like you've stubbed all your toes, stinging skin - are not the worst. The worst thing is the way your muscles tighten up. It's like you have normal muscles, loose and functioning when you get in. Then as you hit the water, it's a signal for some invisible force to then wind and wind the slack from your muscles on to a reel so that they are all so tight that you can barely move. That it's a struggle to move your arms and head and legs in the normal range of movements that they have. It's like you'd imagine Arnold Schwarzenegger or some muscle bound body builder would feel when swimming.
Anyway, swimming on and on with my tight and shrunken muscles and now I'm the only person in the water. Am I cold? Am I too cold? Am I OK? It's hard when you are on your own. There's an older guy on the poolside in a pair of shorts, skipping madly. Every time I swim by him I imagine how hot he must feel. Try and suck a bit of that heat in to me. After about 11 lengths (660m) I realise that the back of my neck feels 'thick' and numb. I decide to get out. One more length. Total about 710m. I feel OK when I get out, slurring a bit, skin very blotchy and red, but feel OK. It was lovely having the water to myself.
I pop in to meet someone and have tea. I'm trying to explain to her why I swim in the cold. Surely, she says, it's not right to feel the pain? It must be a warning? I explain that you feel pain when you train in the pool doing a real tough session but you accept that pain. Why do you accept that but not this? People are freaked out by the cold.
However, I reckon by next week it'll be 10C and then the pain and the tension will stop and we will be able to start swimming properly once more. Hooray!