29/06/2011

...Windermere: Part III - The Aftermath

Now I realise that three separate blog entries for a Windermere swim is excessive, however I declared it was a trilogy in part I and no self respecting trilogy has only two parts. I also have been a pest and made a video of the day so it would be wrong not to share it with the world, I just couldn’t live with myself. Anyway here’s part III …

Being led, like an old man, to the forgotten bench
Smashed
After 6 hours and 32 minutes I climbed out of Lake Windermere having successfully swam the entire length. The following 30 minutes were a bit hazy and the finish is something I barely recall. I do remember being clapped out of the water by a group of Chinese tourists and by the crew of the other swimmers boat (He had finished 15 minutes earlier). Apparently I gave a little wave and stumbled around. This is not how I would recommend marching out of the water after a successful swim. I was trying to be like Daniel Craig (I imagine), cool and impressive – in this I failed.

Clare wrapped a towel around me and led me up the shore towards a bench to get dressed. I genuinely cannot remember sitting on this bench at all, but I did not look good. If I had been discovered in that state by a passer by they would have assumed I was the very last survivor of Auschwitz. I was so haggard and looked like I had lost a stone during the swim, my eyes were massive. Also my intercostal muscles and oblique’s were absolutely KILLING me. I could barely breath, and spent the whole time clenching my teeth and looking hideous.

Much happier, apparently
After a cup of hot chocolate in the café next to the finish I was feeling much better, and was now just overjoyed that I had got across. I also got a free chocolate cake for my birthday from the café owner, all in all a perfect day!

Lessons learnt on this swim:

  • It’s better to take slightly longer on the feeds and actually get something in, rather than run out of energy later on.
  • I can’t even look at solid foods whilst swimming. I need to investigate the sports gels and practise eating in the pool.
  • Never look for the end of a swim, just swim until you get there – very easy to say.
  • I need to let Clare know where all my kit is. She made my swim box very messy, which is of course unacceptable.
  • All my kit and paperwork works pretty well. I know exactly how far I swam every hour, and also know I took just over 20,000 strokes to complete the swim. I don’t need to know this but it’s nice.
  • I didn’t manage to wee at all. I put this down to lack of fluid intake.
  • Finishing a swim is the best feeling in the world, I’m still excited 4 days later!

With Tom. Not the sort of bloke you want to be stood next to when looking like this 
Thanks a lot to Tom, Rachel and Clare for everything. It was an excellent performance and I’m really grateful that you gave up your Saturday to watch me swim and try to make me eat. I’m even more grateful that you put up with me bitching and moaning towards the end. It’s a cliché but I really couldn’t have done it without you.

Here's the video!



Next stop Dover, via the anti-climax of the pool…


28/06/2011

...Windermere: Part II - King Leonidas to Mr. Burns in 6½ hours

After my last blog, which was essentially about a car journey, this should be almost interesting.

The glassy surface of Windermere - it didn't last 
0544 and I’m wide awake waiting for the annoying sound of a phone alarm. I could have just turned it off beforehand but annoying as it is, it does a job – much like Bono, except for the job bit. I got up, thought about stretching, decided against it, and sat back down. It was my birthday and I was about to attempt my first major swim (apart from Rottnest). I waited for the nerves to kick in but they never did. This is a definite first, I usually get a little bit anxious on the walk to the pool.

After double-checking the swim box (no need to, it’s awesome), I went downstairs for some breakfast. As luck would have it a box of Cheerios was on the table. This has become my traditional pre-swim breakfast and I took this as a good sign, a bit desperate but I don’t care. I was joined shortly afterwards by Tom and Clare, all looked good and ready. Rachel failed to materialise for breakfast but was still ready to rock when it was time to depart.

The drive to Windermere was trouble free and we were soon back at Shepherds and loading up the boat. The lake looked like glass, unbelievably smooth. It was raining a little and pretty misty though, so the crew weren’t quite as excited as I was. To be fair I was pretty excited, jumping around the boat like a maniac. Tom started the beast up and we were on our way to Fell foot, the start point of my Windermere swim.
Getting lubed up

1 hour and 20 minutes later we arrived at the jetty where I would be covered in Vaseline and chucked into the water. The other swimmer was already there and looking pretty pumped up and ready to go. He had measured the water temperature on his way to the start point, and was pleased to tell me it was sitting at 16.4c. After the recent temperatures in Dover I would take that any day.

I stripped down and got Clare to put some Vaseline in my armpits, on my neck and between my legs. She asked how much to put on and I told her that you cannot possibly put on too much, she quickly proved me wrong and I now had massive lumps of the stuff all over me. I wasn’t too worried as these would fall off in the early stages of the swim.

Ahhh warm water!
The crew walked back over to the boat, maneuvered themselves so they were facing the right way and gave me the thumbs up. I walked into the water, gave a ridiculous grin and dived in. It felt absolutely lovely, it genuinely felt warmer than my local pool. I put my head down and went for it.

The plan was to feed every hour for the first 3 hours, then switch to 30 minute intervals. I was also to do a 3-5 minute sprint before my feeds when a white board with the word ‘SPRINT’ was held over the side of the boat (I stole this from Marcia Cleveland, of Dover Solo fame). I couldn’t believe it when I first saw the sign, an hour already? It was absolutely flying by, as was I.

Tom chucked me my bottle of Maxim and I got as much down me as I could. I turned down the Milky Way that was offered, before swimming off again at a good speed. I had covered just about 2 miles in the first hour and intended to keep the pace up. I was doing so, and feeling really good (I found out my distances after the swim, not during).

The second hour feed was much the same. Again I turned down the solid food, and again failed to get much of the drink in. I wasn’t worried as I was still swimming at the same pace. At my third feed I was back where we had picked the boat up from, but on the opposite side of the lake. I couldn’t believe I was already level with the islands. I was expecting to take at least 30 minutes longer to reach this point. Again I turned down the solid food and barely got any fluids into me, but I still wasn’t worried. This would catch up with me by the end.

Getting a good breath
My next 2 feeds were much the same but I was still swimming strong. The lake was no longer smooth, it hadn’t been for quite a while to be fair, and the rain had started to fall slightly. The only reason I knew this was because the roof was flipped up on the boat, as I couldn’t feel it. I was starting to notice myself moving up and down in the waves, although it wasn’t an issue.

Attempting to feed - fail
At my 4½ hour feed I was starting to notice a lack of energy, nothing too serious, but it was the first time any negative thoughts had entered my head in the entire swim. The water still felt warm and I was still going at a decent pace. I was slightly slower according to Clare’s excellent record keeping, but I was at 11.7km so just 300m short of 3km an hour which was my target. However this was the point I started to fade.

The next 2 hours were a struggle, purely due to lack of food, which was totally my fault. I was too bothered about having quick feeds, rather than effective feeds and it was costing me dear. I slowed to around 2 .4km an hour and was starting to think about the finish. This is a terrible thing to start thinking about with a couple of hours to go.

Slowly but surely the finish, Ambleside, came into view. Clare and Tom screamed at me to get to the boat and get a final feed for the last little push. I told them in a very pathetic voice that I would be sick and was just going to go for it, I then put my head down and powered on (after watching the video of this moment ‘powered on’ is a very generous expression, I barely moved). I kept stopping and lifting my head to look at the finish, this slowed me down massively. The final kilometre took me well over half an hour to complete, it involved a lot of swearing and angry looks at the boat, but I did it!!

Mr. Burns transformation complete
I have to apologise to Rachel and Clare for my language in this last stretch. When told where the finish was, my reply was “F$@K!! where? F$@KING F$@K!! F$@K! F$@K! F$@K! F$@K! I can’t F$@KING F$@KING see it? F$@KING where??? Oh there, ok…”.


Comically my voice sounded very similar to Moss from the ‘IT Crowd’, and I looked pretty similar to Roy from the same programme. Somehow during the swim I had managed to amalgamate the two characters into one, which was an unexpected side effect of long distance swimming…




27/06/2011

...Windermere: Part I - The Longest Journey


On the 26th June 2010, I swam my first ever open water mile. I was in a wetsuit, in the Thames, and it took me 38 minutes. 364 days later I was going to attempt to swim Lake Windermere, the longest lake in England at 10.5 miles.

The following Windermere blog is a trilogy. Although in 3 parts and starring a strange hobbit-like creature (me), it has no association with the Lord of the Rings. If by any chance any relatives of J.R.R. Tolkien read this, please do not sue. It would be nothing but spiteful.

The longest lake in England
Anyway, the story begins on the 24th June, my birthday eve. The weather was looking nice and I had just received a very nice birthday present from the lovely Clare. It was a sat-nav and pretty much guaranteed a stress free trip to the Lake District. I had already picked up a rent-a-car after losing faith in the Saxo for some reason or other, and as luck would have it managed to get a VW Golf. The car was loaded with my amazing swim box and Clare’s 3 separate bags of clothes (bare in mind we were going away for 2 and a bit days), and our trip began. This is about the moment we plummeted into a massive journey of hell.

I reached the end of my road, literally 2 minutes from the house, and immediately disagreed with the sat-nav. After deciding I obviously knew better, being a man (the sat-nav has a woman’s voice, I couldn’t possibly take directions from her), I took us off on a route towards the M25. Upon reaching the junction for the M25 I suddenly realised that I was in fact horribly wrong. After embarrassingly apologising to the lady on the sat-nav I followed her directions – unfortunately it was already too late, we were stuck in London.

2 hours and many, many traffic jams later we finally got out of London… 2 hours! Luckily I had remained super calm throughout and managed not to lose my temper at all. I may have lost it a little for a brief moment, or possibly massively for the entire time (I’m sorry Clare).

Must trust the sat-nav
The next pressing issue was the fact that I believed we had to be at Lake Windermere before 1730hrs. This was to pick up the boat that would accompany me on the swim the following morning. I was also meant to be picking up Tom and Rachel, who were going to crew it, from Lancaster train station. It was still possible to make it on time but it was going to be tight. Luckily the M6 was pretty clear, apart from the thousands upon thousands of static vehicles. I HATE TRAFFIC!

After a few telephone conversations and texts with Tom, the new plan was for them to go straight to Tom’s mothers house (our base point for the weekend) and for us to meet them there after picking up the boat keys. Now we just had to work out how to make the Golf travel back in time, or alternatively break the speed of sound, and get to Shepherds boat hire in the next 30 minutes. After searching frantically, and in vain, for the flux capacitor it looked like we were going to fail to get the boat. This would have a domino effect on the swim, as we would have to start a lot later than originally planned the following day thus finishing later and missing the planned birthday meal.

Suddenly Clare had what can only be described as a brain wave, you could almost see the light bulb above her head – why not phone the boat place and ask what time they close, rather than just guess? It turned out they closed at half 7 and we still had plenty of time. I almost wish we had phoned straight away.

Our boat 'Karen'
To cut an unnecessarily long story short(ish) we arrived at Windermere at 1845hrs and picked up our magnificent vehicle for the next day. It was actually a pretty cool boat, a lot better than I was expecting and everything felt better. We had our briefing on how to use the boat, how to navigate the lake, and what all the different coloured buoys meant, asked any questions that were bugging us and were sorted.

It turned out that another chap was having a crack at swimming the whole length the next morning as well, and was starting at the same time as me. This was good news, as it’s always nice to have some idea how you’re doing compared to somebody else, plus there was absolutely no chance of starting or finishing at the wrong points as the other fellow was a seasoned swimmer and this was his second attempt.

We finally arrived at Tom’s house at just gone 8 o’clock, just 9 hours after leaving London. This was the absolute perfect preparation for the next day’s event. Penny (Tom’s mum) had made an excellent spaghetti bolognese which was exactly what I needed, all I had eaten that day was 4 packets of crisps and a bowl of Sugar Puffs, which I assume is a very similar diet that Paula Radcliffe would follow before her marathons.

After eating and finalising exactly what was going to happen the next day it was bedtime. The alarm was set for 0545 and then I was out cold. The next day was going to be an epic…. 

22/06/2011

Rules and Regulations

Blur once said “Modern life is rubbish” and they were correct.

After receiving my free kit from Swimshop I was asked to get a photo for their facebook page. I thought the best place to get this photo would obviously be the pool, so I left for my morning training session with a view to getting the picture once I had finished my workout. The management however, had different ideas.

At the end of my swim I asked the lifeguard to take the photo with the pool in the background, he nervously said he would have to ring the manager to ask. Now I would have understood the reaction had I requested a photo of children swimming, but the pool was empty and it was simply a shot of me holding a towel, a waterbottle and a kickboard, nothing too offensive. Although people are offended by a vast array of things in this day and age.

Upon completion of the phone call I was informed that my request could not be carried out. It was forbidden. I want to make it clear that I don't blame the lifeguard or even the people in charge, I blame the world that assumes everybody is a paedophile. However I was still a little frustrated and have added another mark on my list of grievances with the pools in England.

The rules I am currently a little miffed about are:
GET OUT! YOU'RE 30!!
  • I am not allowed to wear fins, unless I am having a lesson – I genuinely cannot see any reason for this one? These are small fins to increase ankle flexibility and work my legs harder, they are not giant diving fins.
  • I am not allowed to swim in the over 50’s hour, despite the pool being practically empty – to be fair this one is rarely enforced, but it makes for a nervous hour. I expect to be asked to leave at any moment.
  • I am not allowed a photo of me, taken by a lifeguard – I could understand if I was taking the photo, maybe, but the lifeguard could surely see that he was taking a photo of me.

Bizarrely there is absolutely no problem with the following:
  • People swimming clockwise in an anti-clockwise lane and vice versa, despite several head on collisions and cross words.
  • Incredibly slow breast strokers in the fast lane, forcing everybody to swim around them. To me this just shows a complete lack of consideration for other pool users. I didn't venture into the fast lane for a good 6 or 7 months until I was sure I wouldn't cause too much bother, this doesn't seem to worry some people.
  • Kids swimming widths and jumping over the lane ropes, or even walking down the lane ropes. There’s plenty of sessions in the pool set aside for messing around, use them. Parents maybe tell your kids to stop jumping on peoples heads whilst they’re swimming instead of laughing, just a thought.

I actually blame David Cameron for all of these rules, much as my Mum used to blame Maggie Thatcher for everything. He is a very convenient scapegoat and looks like a man who is to blame.

Anyway I’m coming across as a very bitter man. I don’t mean to, but the lack of common sense on display nowadays sometimes gets me down. If there was a little bit more self-awareness and consideration for other people in the world, then maybe the politically correct health and safety nightmare in which we currently live would never have had come to be.

The good news is my personalised swimcaps have arrived, and they are absolutely perfect. I literally couldn’t have asked for more. I think they make a nice tribute to the men and women who gave their lives for this country, and especially to my friend Tom – I hope to do you proud…

The Swimcap in which I will attempt the Channel

20/06/2011

The Good, the Bad, and the Unfortunate

And so another weekend in Dover was upon us. I have never known weeks to go by so incredibly quickly. The Saturday had been called off due to severe storms, or so I thought, we found out on Sunday that some people did still make the trip and managed to get 3 hours swimming in – well done to them.

Sunday arrived and I was buzzing and really up for a day in Dover. Saturday had felt very strange not swimming in cold water, and I was actually quite keen to get back in. The day started so well, I picked up Simon and didn’t take any unplanned detours and was almost on time to pick up Angela. We were on our way with plenty of time to spare. The last couple of weekends we had got to Dover pretty much bang on time and had had to practically run from the car into the sea. Today it looked like we would have about 20 minutes to chill out and compose ourselves before getting in. The good old Saxo had different ideas…

My expert repair job
About 20 miles from our destination there was a loud rattle from the rear of the vehicle, this had happened before and sorted itself out so we weren’t particularly worried, then BANG! The rear bumper had managed to work itself loose and popped out the rear lights, smashing them, it had then slid down and completely removed the tread from the tyre. Excellent news. I pulled over and had to change the tyre knowing that our chill out time was no longer going to happen, that's if we were going to get there at all. After a quick stop at the services for some gaffer tape, we were looking ok and rolled into Dover just 25 minutes late.

About 15 minutes later, after a greasing from Angela (who opted to start with her relay team at 10), Simon and myself were in the water. After our traditional instant wee, off we went. The pace we started swimming at in the first hour was the fastest I have ever swum in the sea. We were absolutely flying and managed just over 2,200m in the first 40 minutes, this was particularly good as the water wasn’t at it’s calmest. However after an hour I was back to my usual mess, shivering and feeling sorry for myself.

My appearance at the second feed
At the 2 hour feed, (2 hours 20 minutes for us), I was in a state. My appearance was both described as having “the Ring” face and as Nick Adams put it “an absolute bag of poo” (or words to that effect). I was wobbling around getting my feed and contemplating a third weekend in a row of getting out early, then I looked up and saw Kevin Murphy sprinting down the beach shouting “Get in that water and swim!”. I turned around and had Angela dragging me into the water by the arm, she even got a cheeky bum slap in. The chance of me getting out when I had Kevin shouting at me from one side and a girl pulling me in from the other side was zero. So I dived in and began another hour.

The next 2 hours went remarkably well, my pace had slowed down from the first hour but remarkably I didn’t feel very cold at all. I had finally beaten it (fingers crossed). As I swam in for my final feed there was no question of getting out, I was going to finish the whole swim. This is what I should have been doing all along of course, but after my last couple of weekends I was very happy with this situation.

At the end of the swim I was barely shivering and felt good. The team on the beach were genuinely pleased for me and I got a good few hugs. They were probably happy not to have had to console me for another weekend, and hopefully not have to do it again ever.

I cannot thank Freda and co. enough. It was so nice to see how happy they were when I had actually completed a swim, much better than getting out early, so that’s what I’ll do from now on! Freda told me afterwards that I looked so comfortable when I got out that she considered sending me back in for another hour - that would have been interesting.

Marcy and Kevin, 10 and 34 crossings and counting...
After I got changed I got to meet Marcy MacDonald, an American with 10 successful Channel swims under her belt (she is planning on getting another couple done this year). Kevin Murphy told me that she once attempted a 3 way crossing, and after 2 legs hurt her shoulder, she then swam for 2 hours with one arm whilst attempting the third crossing. Hard as nails.

Yet another inspiration on the beach….


*Congratulations to Marcy who completed her 11th channel crossing on 26th June 2011

16/06/2011

9 Weeks Out - Single Figures!

I now have around 9 weeks to go until my scheduled week to swim the Channel, the time is passing by horrifically quickly. I am booked into slot 3 of 4 for the week of 20th - 27th August, this means 2 people will have their opportunity to go before me.  I really need to hope for good weather that week to have the best chance possible of making my attempt. I'm reasonably confident I will get the chance, but anything can happen in Channel swimming. Last year August was a complete wash-out and many people had to move their swims into September, or not even make their attempt at all, the absolute worst possible result.

The way the swims are arranged is all decided by the tides: Spring and Neap. A Spring tide is when the Moon and the Sun are in line ie. a full or new Moon. This creates a large gravitational pull on the sea, which in turn causes a greater volume of water to pass through the Strait of Dover. A Neap tide is the exact opposite. The Sun and Moon are at right angles to each other (quarter moon) and cancel each others gravitational pull out, causing less water to pass through the strait. 

This is why most swimmers wish to swim on the Neap tide and, until recently, have only had that option. More and more pilots are now offering slots on Spring tides due to the popularity of Channel swimming. This isn't necessarily a bad thing as all it means is your 'S' shaped chart may be bigger. The tide is never against you, it pushes you from side to side but never back towards Dover, apart from a strong current towards the end of the swim, or so I am told. 

I am on a Neap tide.
The pull on the Oceans of the World. Neap Tides look much nicer
As I type the nerves are starting to creep in. I say starting to creep in, I’m nervous pretty much every time I go to Dover. 9 weeks is not a long time, and will fly by once my friends on the beach start making their attempts. In my head I have aimed off to do my swim on the 24th August. This is purely for sentimental reasons, as this was the date that Captain Matthew Webb made the first ever crossing. I like little coincidences like that.

When embarking on something like training for the Channel, the thing you must realise is how it completely consumes your life. COMPLETELY. I understood before I began that this was going to be a lot of hard work and a few sacrifices would have to be made, I wasn’t aware however that I would have nothing else on my mind ever.

My football team, West Ham, got relegated this season and I barely noticed it. This would usually really bother me. I know this from several past experiences, but this time it hardly registered at all (to the great relief of my girlfriend). The last 5 or 6 books I’ve read have all been about swimming the Channel or just swimming in general. All I ever talk about is swimming. I’ve started a blog to write about swimming. I have no idea what will become of me when this is all over!...

In other news I would like to say a big thank you to Swimshop, who have been kind enough to help me out with some kit to aid my training. I am always grateful for help and sponsorship, which is not very easy to come by in these days of recession and other depressing words. Thanks a lot, it is much appreciated.

13/06/2011

Positive Mental Attitude

The joy experienced when getting into the water

With just under 10 weeks to go until my week long window opens for my Channel swim, my head appears to have imploded. My swimming is better than ever, without a doubt. I am faster and stronger than I have ever been in the water. I now easily cover 2 miles in an hour and see no reason why I can’t increase this. However I have become a giant baby. For the first time the water temperature has been really getting to me, and the worst thing is it’s not even that cold. I obviously feel cold when I’m in the water, but only when I stop. The very simple solution is not to stop. This seems to have become almost impossible for me to do.

After my last problematic weekend in Dover I stated confidently that ‘it will NOT happen again’. What I apparently meant was ‘from now on this will be a regular occurance’.

Saturday morning and I’m on the bus to my pick-up point with Angela and Keith, I’m already dreading the day ahead. I need to snap out of it, this is emphasised when I meet Angela who is bouncing off the walls with excitement about going swimming. I need just a tiny bit of her enthusiasm and I will be laughing. I haven’t got it though. 

Freda and Irene delivering some much needed motivation
As we drive over the hill into Dover the water appears before us and looks really nice, the sun is shining and everything seems like it’s going to be ok. The water temperature has allegedly increased to 14c and all is well. Minutes later I'm covered in Vaseline and sun cream and I feel alright, one step into the water though and I suddenly doubt that extra degrees exists. Angela immediately turns around and tells me off for the water feeling cold, I accept that in some small way I am surely to blame and dive in.

The first hour absolutely flew by, no problem at all, and I am still swimming well 1½ hours in. Then I suffered what could only be described as a complete mental breakdown, or a severe lack of guts. By the 2 hour feed I am a mess and Barry pulls me out of the water, a shivering whimpering state. I’m told to get dressed and speak to Freda. I feel like such a drama queen, there’s no reason for it, as I watch other people carry on in far worse states than me.

Freda specifically tells me told not to be too hard on myself but it’s far easier said than done. I’m meant to be an ex-para, and mentally tough, yet I’m behaving like a little girl (this is no offence to the girls who are far exceeding anything I’m doing at the moment, it’s merely a figure of speech, I apologise anyway). Anyway it is decided that I should get back into the water in an hour, and swim for another 60 minutes to see how it goes.

An hour passes by and I’m back in my speedos hobbling down the stones to the water. I dive in and swim away but my attitude is completely wrong and 50 minutes later I get back out and trudge back to my bag defeated. Tomorrow is another day I tell myself and try to put it out of my mind. There's absolutely no chance of this.

Sunday morning and I’m up and driving to Simon’s house to pick him up for another dip in the sea. After a quick tour of Peckham, totally unplanned but London has a way of helping you get lost, we pick up my girlfriend (and official photographer) Clare, and Angela. The latter completed her 6 hour qualification swim the day before, and for the first time ever isn’t excited.

The weather forecast says rain but upon arrival into Dover it all looks reasonably good again. There’s a bit of a chilly wind but other than that you really couldn’t complain. Freda tells me that I am to get a feed after an hour today and I won’t be told when I’m getting out, just swim an hour at a time. This seems very doable, as it always does until I get in.

Quick wee
Simon and myself had decided to swim together as we are around the same speed now when plodding, he still has the advantage in the sprints but normal pace we’re about even. We both jump in the water and immediately wee. It’s not that often in life when you can openly wee in a crowd so take them while you can. 

I finished first and Simon said he’d catch me up, so off I swam. He never caught me. Again I was swimming alone. This absolutely destroys my head. I am surprisingly full of negativity and it spills out when I’m in the sea on my lonesome. All I can think of is how cold I am and how easy it is for everyone else, this is of course not true, but the mind is a very powerful thing.

As I swim in for my 1 hour feed I’m not feeling terrific, truth be known I would have gladly been pulled from the water but this is never going to happen. I swam away for the start of my second hour and once again my head decides to combust. Suddenly I’m treading water behind a wall shivering. I would not be shivering if I had continued to swim, the water genuinely isn’t that bad, but when you stop it’s freezing.

Camilla, of Angela’s relay team, spotted me cowering next to the wall and asked if I was ok, I nod even though I’m clearly not. I’m a mess… again. After much debate about whether to get out or not, I decide to swim back to the start line. This is helped as I get to swim with Kevin Murphy, which on it’s own is pretty cool, but not cool when I’m behaving like such a pansy.

I made it back to Barry at the 2 hour point and was again told to get out, this time I didn’t really feel the need to, but Freda knows best and no doubt I would have collapsed again minutes later. I went to get dressed and was told that I have an hour until I get back in, this is not unexpected but still hard to take in. As I’m getting dressed 2 girls who are attempting a relay in July get out, they are in a genuine state, there’s tears falling and proper shakes. I am a fraud. I must man up.



After a brief walk and coffee break with Clare I’m ready(ish) to get back in. I literally start shaking during preparation, Clare notices that I haven’t been shaking at all until this point. It’s all in my head. I get changed and am told it’s tropical water by Kevin, and away I go. Again I am absolutely fine for an hour, I am helped by swimming along with another of my ex-gozo swimtrekkers, which really helps. Then on my hour feed I finally meet up with Simon, 4 hours after our wee.

The last hour of my weekend in Dover was my best and easiest by far, swimming along with Simon and Stuart (a good strong pacemaker) I smash out the second hour with no real problems, apart from a small blip after about 35 minutes. Thanks for not leaving me at this point by the way Simon and Stuart, I may not have appeared grateful, or even been grateful at the time, but deep, deep down I probably was.

Remember, nobody finds it easy
I got out of the water after having completed 4 hours in total on what would have actually been a very good day, if I could just bridge the gap between the 2 hour sessions.

Next week I will definitely swim with somebody, it helped immensely in preventing me from even thinking about stopping, or thinking full stop. It will all fall into place I’m sure, I just need to start being positive and stop imagining that I am alone in feeling the pain. Everybody is in the same place and going through the same emotions, they are just dealing with it better…

08/06/2011

Too Vain to Gain

2 months into my 6,000 calorie diet

I am often informed that I will have to gain some fat to swim the Channel, or ‘bioprene’ as Dan Martin calls it (a man who has gained a good few kg's for his exploits, far bigger exploits than me), as I have a severe lack of it. This, I am told, will help protect me from the elements and stop me feeling the cold so much. I have taken this advice on board and have spent the last 4 or 5 months eating 5,000 – 6,000 Calories every day, so far all I have managed to accomplish with this diet is losing around half a stone in weight. I have been running 2 diets simultaneously, a healthy diet, as you still need good food to help you train, and my usual diet of utter rubbish to gain some precious pounds.

The problem I have is that I have always been able to eat a good amount of food, the majority of which is, for want of a better word, ‘shit’. I am on first name terms with the Dominos Pizza delivery man, I rarely have to tell them what I am going to order as they already know. I consider a giant Cornish pasty and a family pack of Monster Munch a snack for in between meals, and I would never even contemplate half finishing a meal. I usually finish my girlfriend’s meals as well, usually when she’s not looking. However when it comes to putting on fat I am not the most capable. I also appear to have to metabolism of a particularly hyperactive Humming bird.

Simon's Dr Pepper belly
Far from massive but psychologically huge?
Simon, my swimtrek/channel friend, has managed to get himself quite a belly, not outrageous at all but nice and noticeable. He is very proud of it, and puts it down to his Dr. Pepper diet. This basically involves eating a lot of takeaway food and drinking a lot of Dr. Pepper, I am not a massive fan of this drink so have experimented with the Coca-Cola diet with no great success. This has been a massive advantage for him and has helped a lot, but personally I think a lot of it is down to having his confidence knocked on his first Swimtrek tour. Sometimes having the belly is just like having a comfort blanket, plus it eliminates one of the excuses for failing a swim ‘lack of fat’.

After speaking to Kevin Murphy at the weekend he told me that it’s a fine line when gaining weight. Obviously the more you weigh, the more you have to pull through the water. This means in turn that you will be a slower swimmer and therefore you will be in the water for a greater time period, thus feeling the effects of the cold for longer. Not that all heavier people are slower swimmers of course, far from it, but if you are like me and suffer from a lack of fat then suddenly gaining some will definitely cost you some pace. It’s a classic ‘Catch 22’.

Nick Adams has told me about a lady who has made 2 attempts on the Channel so far (She’s making another this year) and failed due to not having any fat to burn in the later stages. The second time getting pulled out around 800 metres from France. This would be devastating, but it would appear that no matter how much I eat I struggle to get fat. I’m not the smallest and already weigh well above what I should for my height, according to the ridiculous thing that is BMI (Body Mass Index). Seriously never ever pay attention to your BMI, it takes nothing into account regarding body composition and is based purely on height and weight – nonsense.

The other thing is the only part of me that ever really gets cold is my hands (not even my hands, just my right little finger, the bastard) and legs. Now I know for a fact that if I were to spend the next 2 months eating nothing but buttered chocolate I would still struggle to put any fat onto these areas, and I would also have a pretty massive heart attack. So it would appear that I am going to have to accept that on the day I am going to be cold, and have full faith in my feeding plan giving me enough energy towards the later stages. There's worse things to be than cold.

All sorts of different shapes and sizes are present at Dover. There are some bigger ladies and gents yes, but I don’t think this is purely due to attempting a Channel swim, they are just big. There are also some really lean people who are doing just as well with the cold, obviously the test will come on the longer swims but so far so good.

The moral of this post is to not get too worried or stressed about your body fat if you are thinking about attempting a big swim in cold water, there's already too much to worry about. If you convince yourself that you are going to be cold before you get in the water then guess what? You’re going to be cold. If you decide however that it’s going to be ok, then you probably will be.

This is of course just my opinion and there will be plenty of proper swimmers who will disagree, and they have every right to due to my extreme lack of experience and recent cold water performances. I just think a lot of time is spent unnecessarily worrying about this subject, and the more you worry about it the more you will psych yourself out and feel the cold. This is definitely what happened to me on my last trip to Dover. I have been far colder and carried on swimming than last weekend, but I was just weak minded. Of course I immediately blamed my lack of fat. Just another excuse.

Anyway I’m going to eat some cake and chips off of my belly…

06/06/2011

Dover - The Highs and Lows

After last weekends vomiting experience I was understandably anxious about getting back into the sea. The mystery bug seemed to have finally left me, but as an extra precaution I took some sea sickness tablets just in case this had been the cause of my misfortune. At 6:30am Saturday morning I felt pretty much ready to take on Dover Harbour again.

After picking up Angela, my latest London based Channel swimming chum, we set off for the beautiful paradise on Earth that is Dover. The weather was looking nice, I had even had to bring some suncream due to my tendency to burn as soon as the sun pops out from behind a cloud. I blame my partial gingerness, I’m only a mild case but do sometimes display obvious symptoms.

Paradise on Earth
Upon arrival at the Harbour everything looked lovely, the water was far from flat but was a whole lot better than I had seen it for a while. The sun was shining down which is a massive psychological boost and everybody on the beach looked reasonably happy, as happy as you can be before jumping into 13c water for a few hours.

I saw Freda who asked how I was feeling, I said I was feeling fine and was immediately given 4 hours. Irene gave me a number, we had the customary brief and we were off. Minutes earlier I was loving life, now I was face down in cold, brown water wishing my life away.

The hardest bit by far on the Dover swims is the first 2 hours, after this you are allowed to feed every hour which breaks it up and makes the time pass by so much quicker. I was still in the first 2 hours though. I was swimming well and not feeling any symptoms or sickly at all. I just kept thinking that once I get to 2 hours then the swim is pretty much finished, the 3rd and 4th hour will fly by. I looked at my watch, I had been swimming 17 minutes.

That was the last time I looked at my watch until 1 hour 57 minutes, I had just completely zoned out and plodded along and suddenly it was feeding time, I was a good 10 minutes away from the feeding point so I turned and arrived for my Maxim at 2 hours 7 minutes. This made my next hour even easier, which in turn made the 4th hour easy. It had been an excellent swim and I felt good. 4 hours in 13c water was a decent effort this early in the season and I was strangely looking forward to Sunday.

Sunday, 0615, and I was up again for a trip to Dover. My enthusiasm had waned slightly since the previous day. The weather had also taken a massive turn for the worse. It was Angela’s turn to drive, well her boyfriend, who is training for a relay swim in July, Keith's turn. The drive down was uneventful apart from the constant despairing looks at the black clouds gathering in front of us.

We parked up and took a look at the sea, it was about as inviting as a marriage proposal from Heather Mills. There were a lot fewer people on the beach, all already shivering before they had even put a toe into the water. The atmosphere couldn’t be more different to the day before. We changed in silence. I got my number and got covered in Vaseline, this doesn’t seem to make too much difference as I have nearly chafed my entire neck off, but it has to be done. I was told to go for 4 hours again, or 5 if I was feeling good after 4. Angela got 5, she was understandably delighted. Once again we strode into the water to begin another swim.

Doesn't do justice to how unpleasant it really was
I was swimming along ok, and had done a couple of lengths of the harbour when I suddenly became the biggest baby known to man. I was just turning at the harbour wall on the hour mark when I just stopped, started treading water and shivering like I had in Folkestone last year.

Suddenly I was swimming towards the beach, it was literally like an out-of-body experience, I felt like I was watching myself swim towards the shore. I could hear myself saying ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Turn around start swimming’ and some things that should never be put to type, needless to say I was very harsh on myself.

The next thing I knew I was standing in Dover’s public toilets in nothing but my speedos with my face pressed up against the wall shivering like a maniac. I then had to endure the walk back to the start line. It is only about 500metres, but when everybody is dressed up like it’s winter and you’re strolling along in a pair of speedos and a swim cap it feels a bit strange.

I was still shivering uncontrollably when I saw Freda to tell her of my weakness and shame in getting out. It was a low point. She said not to worry about it, get dressed and warmed up then get back in again. Getting in again was not at the forefront of my mind, but after having a talk with a couple of blokes on the beach I decided I was going to have to. One of these blokes was Kevin Murphy, the King of the Channel with 34 crossing to his name. ‘It’s just like falling off a bike’ he said ‘you have to get straight back on it’.

I went for a bit of a walk to warm myself up and basically tell myself to man-up. I am not trying to get any sympathy here I must be clear. There was no problem with me, I was just being a complete weak loser. Plenty of people were still swimming, a few of them having swum 6 hours on Saturday. I had no excuse and this was sinking in. I always thought the thing I would have an advantage in when attempting this goal would be my mental strength, I’m usually quite good at just carrying on no matter how hideous something has become, however I now seemed to be mentally incredibly weak.

45 minutes passed and the rain started falling down. I was standing looking at the statue of Captain Matthew Webb (The first man to swim the Channel) with rain running down my face, feeling very low. If I had been in a Disney film I would have no doubt performed a beautiful yet tragic and moving song. As I wasn’t in a Disney film, I didn’t sing a song. Instead I decided to get back in the water.

I walked down to my bag to get back into my faithful, but almost see-through speedos and told Freda I was getting back in. I walked past Kevin who told me it would not be anything like as bad as I was imagining it would be and he was right. The water didn’t feel anything like as cold as it had 45 minutes earlier and I jumped in and swam away as fast as I could.

I ended up doing another hour and 15 minutes, and felt so much better for it. I had rescued what was going to be a very depressing end to the weekend and now didn’t feel too bad about it.

Needless to say it will NOT happen again…