TAKE THE PLUNGE
As biologists and psychologists continue to unlock the benefits of wild swimming, one cold water convert reports on how her self-care staple could become 2021’s biggest mental health intervention
Why more and more women are making cold water swimming a self-care staple
Let me be clear: back when I worked at a fashion magazine in central London, I never imagined for a second that
I’d join that alien breed of people who charge into the Atlantic in midwinter with the enthusiasm most of us reserve for the Mediterranean in August. Back then, the sea was little more to me than a backdrop for a sunset selfie. Today, it’s my best friend, my counsellor, my doctor and even my beauty therapist (I swear the lingering circulation boost rivals the results at the fanciest of spas).
When I moved from London to Margate in 2016, I was in the throes of a difficult break-up and, from my very first swim – I was coaxed into the sea by a friend with the promise that it would immediately eradicate a hangover (it did) – bracing dips in the ocean helped manage feelings of sadness, anger, loneliness and despair. Since then, my relationship with the water has only deepened and, in a year like no other, the North Sea has – once again – delivered exactly what I needed: a community of companions at a time when it would have been easy to sink into the sofa; an endorphin rush that rivals the kick I used to get from the dance floor (remember those?); soul-nourishingly beautiful scenery when far-flung travel exists only in your memory and on icloud. Now, a growing body of research into the physiological impact of cold water swimming suggests that my own experience is just the tip of the iceberg.
Last year, scientists at the University of Cambridge discovered a ‘cold shock’ protein in the blood of regular winter swimmers at London’s Parliament Hill Lido; a protein that, in mice, has been shown to slow the onset of dementia and repair neurological damage. ‘This indicates that cold water may bebeneficial to brain health, protecting against degenerative diseases that cause memory loss, confusion and mood swings,’ says Professor Giovanna Mallucci, who runs the UK Dementia Research Institute’s centre at the University of Cambridge. This discovery sent ripples around Britain’s growing community of open-water swimmers; it was concrete evidence of a mind-body connection we’ve all felt first-hand.
SHOCK AND SHORE
For years, I’ve been conscious of the effects that my thrice-weekly dips in the North Sea have on my body: glowing skin and fewer colds among them. But it’s the impact they’ve had on my mind that’s the reason I keep returning to the shoreline in the darkest depths of
winter. Of course, there’s the instant gratification of that surge of adrenaline as the icy water hits, chased by an endorphin boost that lasts hours. But the benefits of cold water swimming aren’t washed away during my post-swim shower. My mood would stabilise; in the days after, I’d be a calmer, more resilient version of myself. As someone who struggles with anxiety and periodic episodes of depression, I could have wept with relief at finding an enjoyable, accessible and pharmaceutical-free means of caring for my mind. But, until recently, we still had no idea why the sea affects us like this.
Research into the potential physiological effects of cold water is still in its infancy. ‘The first thing to consider is that we were originally tropical primates,’ says Professor Mike Tipton of the Extreme Environments Laboratory at the University of Portsmouth. He explains that, physiologically, your body – and mine – wants to be in an airy environment at around 27°C. ‘Immersion in cold water is about as far removed from your evolutionary origins as you can get,’ he adds. ‘This is why it triggers such a powerful fight-or-flight response. Psychologically, we get a very positive outcome from confronting and overcoming a challenge.’
If you’ve ever swum in winter, or even plunged into an ice bath at a hotel spa, you’ll be all too familiar with the ‘cold water shock’ response: an involuntary gasp, a spike in adrenaline and a racing heart as glucose and fats are released into your bloodstream. This is the classic fight-or-flight response. In Portsmouth, Professor Tipton’s ongoing research involves placing volunteers in a hanging chair and lowering them into a chamber of water at 12°C for five minutes. From this, Professor Tipton observed that it only takes six immersions to halve the ‘cold water shock’ response. After a few short cold dips, your body adapts: your heart and breathing rates only rise half as much, you panic less and you regain control of your breathing. This adaptation makes you less reactive to the shock of cold water. But – the theory goes – your improved ability to overcome and manage stress extends beyond the sea and into your work and
‘After a few short, cold dips, your body adapts’
personal lives. Put simply, swimming in cold water is elite training for the stresses of daily life.
That’s not all that’s going on though. It was back in 2012 that molecular biologist Nikolai Shevchuk proposed taking a three-minute cold shower, after a five-minute warm one, once or twice daily for several weeks as a treatment for depression. ‘When your sympathetic nervous system [that fight-or-flight response again] is activated, beta-endorphin is released, which we know has a mood-elevating effect,’ explains Shevchuk, speaking of the mechanism associated with ‘runner’s high’ and the reason researchers believe exercise can help alleviate symptoms of depression. ‘Additionally, due to the high density of cold receptors in the skin, an overwhelming amount of electrical impulses travel from peripheral nerve endings to the brain, which could also have an anti-depressive effect,’ he adds.
THE BIG CHILL
Michael Morris is putting this theory to the test. He founded Chill Sessions, a Devon-based group therapy project that aims to help those who suffer from depression and anxiety via an eight-week course in sea swimming, after hearing about the positive impact it was having on the mental wellbeing of local women. Vanessa Charles, a 47-year-old massage therapist living in Devon, recently completed the course. ‘I’d been through a traumatic divorce and was experiencing severe panic attacks on a neardaily basis,’ she shares. ‘Since the course, I have panic attacks less often, and my anxiety and depression feel so much more manageable. I really thought I’d struggle, but the community of amazing, supportive women made it possible. It’s changed my life.’ Her story is typical of the women who take part in Chill Sessions, and now, Morris is working with scientists to find out more about why. ‘We’re working with researchers at the University of Portsmouth on a dedicated study into the effects of cold water on mental health issues like anxiety and depression,’ he tells me. ‘It’s important work, because while most of us can feel and see the benefits of cold water, we haven’t had scientific data that explains why this is so. There’s still so much we don’t know.’ Many of the women who sign up to a Chill Sessions course are experiencing anxiety and depression due to the menopause, and with doctors and psychiatrists analysing their responses to cold water, it’s hoped that the results could lead to more GPS prescribing cold water swimming as a non-clinical treatment option for such conditions.
Happily, more people are cottoning on to just how transformative cold water swimming can be. Today, it’s one of the fastest-growing participation sports in the UK. According to Swim England, some 7.5 million people – a number that’s nudging at the population of London – currently swim outdoors in the country’s lakes, lochs and lidos, as well as our rivers and seas. Meanwhile the Outdoor Swimming Society has seen its membership soar from 300 in 2006 to 30,000 members this year, with scores of young women joining its Facebook group daily. As much as I’d like to claim credit for this uptake in interest and take my place as a swimming influencer (swimfluencer?), the practice has been undergoing a reputation rebrand for some time now. Pells Pool in Sussex has nearly 6,000 Twitter followers, as well as a writer-in-residence programme, and, pre-covid, the social swims put on by the Kenwood Ladies Pond Association at Hampstead Heath in London were attended by a loyal following of fashion editors, stylists and designers.
A NEW WAVE
Whether it’s curiosity or a search for a cure that drives you to take your first dip, I don’t doubt that the water will deliver for you, as it did for me – and as it has done for many others. There’s a shared understanding among female swimmers that you come to the sea to heal; and even if you don’t have anything to heal from, the sea will find it. My friend, the broadcaster Gemma Cairney, describes the post-swim glow as ‘that hero feeling’; in her swimming memoir, Leap In, author Alexandra Heminsley describes how the water returned her to her body after months of taking IVF medication; writer Amy Liptrot started swimming to replace the highs she was missing when she stopped drinking and taking drugs, but it became a way of celebrating the changing seasons. During lockdown last spring, Amy and I would message each other on Instagram, sharing the delights of a furtive swim, she in the rivers of Yorkshire, me in the North Sea; bonded by a shared healing experience, and a shared delight. If you’re still wondering what possesses women like us to jump into cold water, it’s this: we’ve discovered we can. And that’s something worth celebrating.
There’s an understanding among swimmers that you come to the sea to heal