Why I Swim

I started swimming in the cold water of Vobster Quay in September 2019, about 4 months after my MND diagnosis. With the help of some very special friends I kept going through the winter months, but had to stop during the first lockdown. When I restarted, later in 2020, my disease had progressed and I had to adapt to my new limitations. Now in the winter of 2020 I’m taking a moment to reflect on what this activity means to me.

Movement

In the beginning, swimming at Vobster was a way to exercise outdoors when my other options had become impossible. For 9 years I had been a frequent runner, occasional cyclist and once-in-a-blue-moon pool swimmer. As MND took away my ability to run, then walk, then cycle, swimming was still possible and I was extremely grateful for that opportunity to raise my heart rate, push myself physically and be outside. Richard, the swim coach at Vobster, taught me front crawl and helped me to learn how to cope with the cold water.

Over the months swimming became much more than exercise. My MND progression meant that many ways of moving that most of us take for granted became impossible for me on dry land. For instance stretching out my arms from my sides, or flexing my legs, or rolling horizontally. The water came to mean freedom of movement: when something as basic as one of these simple movements is taken away from you, you wouldn’t believe how wonderful it feels to experience it again!

During the first lockdown I was forced to take a break for a few months. In that time I lost a lot of strength and mobility from my arms and neck. When I returned I had to switch from front crawl to a limited back stroke. Neither arms nor legs could move very much any more. Richard has worked a lot with sportspeople recovering from spinal injuries and has been working with me to see how much mobility I can regain through exercises done in the water, with assistance - exercises I am not strong enough to do out of the water.

I’m not under any illusions that movement will somehow reverse my disease, but I think it’s obvious that for anyone dealing with MND there is an envelope of possibility for movement. That envelope may trend downwards inevitably over time but that does not prevent me from reaching towards the upper limit as much as I can. I am confident that my time in the water and particularly the work I do under Richard’s supervision help me to do this.

The elements

I have a running joke with my carer/friend/swimming companion Neil. He will tell me that the weather forecast for our next swim day is pretty terrible. I will shrug and admit that I hadn’t looked, because I will still want to go whatever the forecast says.

We swim in the summer when the coolness of the water is a pleasant relief. We swim in rainstorms, watching the droplets splash back up from the surface of the lake; with fog hanging over the water; in the bright sunlight or in the shade when the sun has not yet risen; with frost on the ground; even, once or twice, in darkness. I watch the intersecting patterns of windblown waves bouncing from the quayside and the approach of gusts seen in the water before they are felt.

Swimming front crawl my world became a dark endless blue punctuated by a periodic flash of white light and air. Now on my back the sky fills my view, grey or blue or rose, sun or cloud, movement or stillness. Whatever is there in the air above me, I am in it and cannot ignore it: heavy rain, warm sun, chill wind, each felt through my exposed face.

The wild

We share the site with ducks, geese, swans, cormorants, a Kingfisher. In fact it’s more like they share it with us, begrudgingly. Lying on one’s back for half an hour is a great way to notice them.

Crows blow over in the wind, gulls move higher up with more purpose, buzzards circle. A pair of swans give us a low fly-past then return even lower in case we missed the warning. The cormorant goes about his important work then stretches his wings in the sunshine. A deer approaches the top of the cliff, sniffs the air and moves on.

The cold

Now I know, truly know, that my life is finite, I want to feel what it is, authentically, to be a human - in every sense I can.

We did not evolve to live a life of comfort and plenty. Being cold is an essential part of the human experience. It is what gives value to shelter and warmth. We are equipped with ways of coping. Our bodies even make use of periods of cold and heat to regulate themselves.

I have come to love the cycle of preparing for the cold, accepting the shock, relaxing into it, feeling it in my limbs. And of course leaving it behind to get warm again. It’s addictive and I feel sorry for those who will never realise how good it can be!

Breath

En route to the lake I focus on my breath to calm my body and try to create warmth in my core that might give me a little more time in the water. As we enter, I force breaths out to overcome the reflex to tense up against the threat of the cold. Emerging from the water I once again turn my attention to my breath, helping my body to relax so that I can flex enough to allow clothing to be removed and replaced.

Through the breath I am more present. It’s good.

Escape

MND is a challenging diagnosis to accept. There are still times when my progression or worries about the future get to me.

Swimming in the cold lake demands absolute attention. There is no opportunity to think about anything other than breathing, moving, overcoming the cold.

If your head is stuck in a loop before the swim, it will soon be forgotten. This can be a very welcome tonic.

Fellowship

With my limited mobility I rely totally on friends to enable this activity, both in terms of helping me physically and taking responsibility for my safety.

At first I was flattered these people would give up their time to help me in this way. I kept asking, do you still want to do this? It is a big commitment. Eventually I realised that everything I have described above is better when it is shared.

There is also something very meaningful about sharing vulnerability, regard and caring - for me and for them. This is a special, tribal thing we do together and for one another. It’s not just for me.

Thanks to my crew - Jolene, Sara and Neil - for allowing me to use their photographs.

You can support my upcoming cold water swim challenge by donating on my JustGiving page for the event.