WEEKEND WARRIOR
Convinced he’d tried every tri alternative, Brunty discovers a new love – the UK Cold Water Swimming Championships
One of the downsides to triathlon is that with the tri season being so short, you’re left kicking around for half the year trying to find other ways to use your energy and your extensive collection of gadgets.
Triathletes, being mildly obsessed with remaining in constant motion, will thus plunge headlong into manic pool, treadmill and turbo training in a bid to see off the winter months. However, there are only so many turbo sessions you can do before your backside starts to resemble an empty headlock, so we’re left seeking new ways to gain an edge on our teammates and get our fix of ‘you’re a nutter’ comments on social media.
As someone who’s been doing triathlons since the mid-Mesolithic era I’ve tried most tri alternatives over the centuries. Some I’ve loved (cross-country running, Masters swimming, trail marathons), some I’ve not loved (duathlons, an indoor ‘dry-tri’ thing involving rowing machines, and cyclo-cross, at which I displayed a level of incompetence usually only found in cartoons), and some I blankly refuse to try (crossfit, mountain biking, and anything involving skis). You’d think there was nothing left for me to try, but no! Behold the UK Cold Water Swimming Championships, which took place in January at Tooting Bec Lido, an iconic open-air pool in south London. It’s unheated, making the water temperature for this event 1.5°C. So without any experience of cold water swimming, and no opportunity to practise in cold water, I naturally opted for the longest event on offer – 90m freestyle; the hardest event on offer – 30m ice fly; and the nuttiest event on offer – 30m head-up breaststroke wearing an alternative hat.
Arriving just in time to watch a mass jump-in in aid of the Crisis charity and hearing the screams of the jumpees as they hit the icy wastes, did nothing for my nerves. I should add that this is a non-wetsuit event so it’s just you, your trunks, a swim cap, your steamed-up goggles, and your body like a pale, haggard sack of organs. As I disrobed poolside I was already cold because it was January, it was windy, I was wearing nothing but Speedos, and I’m a thin man who looks like C-3PO made of ham. But now was not the time to panic – it was too late . With no diving allowed, all starts were in the pool with shoulders under the water, so the starter called us with the dreaded words “Swimmers, enter the water”.
How shall I describe the feeling of getting into water that cold? I’m not sure I can without swearing. It not only took my breath away but also my hearing, my wits and my testicles. I had no time to dwell on this gender reassignment, though, because through the icy fog in my brain I heard “GO!” and we were off. Blindly thrashing through three lengths of freestyle made me even colder and upon touching the wall I shot out of the water like a Polaris missile. My agony was short-lived, however, because joy of joys there were hot tubs and a sauna to restore your body parts to their rightful position.
I was dragged kicking and screaming from the hot tub to participate in my second race, the organisers refusing my request to swim my remaining events in there. Knowing what was coming made me even more nervous second time round but I put on my big boy pants, and then put my bigger boy pants on over them, and jumped in. Once again I survived, once again my face looked like I’d been bobbing for apples in chip fat. My final race was head-up breaststroke which doubled as a hat competition – I opted for a trilby with my trusty pipe clenched between my teeth to stop them chattering. This was by far my favourite swim and I even waved to the crowds as I swam.
The event, hosted by the South London Swimming Club, turned out to be the most enjoyable I’ve ever done. The venue and organisation were fantastic, the volunteers were possibly the most helpful and cheerful I have ever encountered, and the atmosphere was amazing, as you might expect when you pack a place full of eccentric athletes. I will return, but I’m not sure how I’ll train for it. Sitting naked in my freezer hitting myself in the groin with a bag of peas seems like my best bet.
“It not only took my breath away but also my hearing, my wits and my testicles”