How cold are you?

I have discovered that when swimming in cold water, "are you cold?" is not the right question. It should be "how cold are you?" The last couple of weekends in Dover have been testament to this.

The week before last was a great week. Matt signed his deal late (very late) on Thursday, so we had a lovely family Friday all three of us together. I managed 15k in the pool during the week, and in Dover over the course of the weekend I increased my maximum cold water time from 40mins to 2hrs 30mins (one swim on Saturday of 1hr 45mins, and then 2 and a half hours on the Sunday). The sea was around 12.5 degrees celcius - at that temperature, my hands started clawing after an hour through loss of nerve control. It happens to everyone, but I find it mentally quite hard to take - it seems somehow very wrong to keep on swimming when your body is displaying such obvious signs of incapacitation. Still, after warming up with plenty of hot chocolate, there were no ill effects except an aching shoulder. It was interesting that I found the longer swim on Sunday easier - the sun was shining and I think that makes a big difference. I ended up with freckles and rather interesting strap marks...no strapless dresses for me this summer!

The aching shoulder was still present last week, so much so that I only managed two pool sessions. That wasn't really a disaster though, since we are starting to do so much at the weekends that the swims in the week are less valuable. Saturday was another big day - 3 hours, with a drink after 2. I swam with a pair called Katherine and Rob but they were a bit faster than me and I dropped off their pace after about 75mins, and then swam on my own. The drink was a godsend, it really seemed to warm me up and I managed the next hour without feeling too awful. When I climbed out, Bug was desperate for a cuddle but of course I was all wet and couldn't oblige - Matt and I had an entertaining time desperately trying to dry me, whilst I was shivering and my hands weren't working, with the poor wee man wailing at me until I was able to pick him up.

Sunday was a rotten day. The weather was awful - 8 degrees and rainy. Not a day for Bug at the seaside so Matt and he stayed behind. The target was 3 hours 30 mins with a drink at 2 and a half. It felt colder in the water than Saturday, although the sea must have been the same. I swam with Ian for an hour, and then picked up a gentleman called Jim. He dropped off my pace after another hour or so, and then I was on my own. I was finding it really very cold and couldn't wait for the drink. This time the drink didn't really do the trick and I still found myself feeling increasingly colder. I called it quits at 3 hours 10, and found myself experiencing whole body racking shivers as I swam into the shore. Anna was on the beach and was an absolute star - she more or less dressed me and sorted me out.

Getting out earlier than planned is a strange thing. None of us doing this sort of thing lack determination, and it doesn't sit easily to fail a target. However, I refuse to beat myself up about it: this is not just messing about in a pool, there is a real safety issue at stake here. Two and a hlaf hours later, when I got home, I was still not warm - usually I find myself stripping off layers in the car about the time I reach the M25 - so I had gotten significantly colder than before. I've reached the conclusion that you do what you can, and it's important to recognise when enough is enough, even if that means others do more than you. It's important to recognise when the answer to "how cold are you?" is heading towards "too cold for safety".

All in all, though, it feels like great progress, though oh my god it's hard work in the cold...all I can say is, bring on the gulf stream and the 2-3 degree hike it carries with it!