It was only after I had agreed to take part in the Blenheim Triathlon that I remembered I could barely swim a length of the local swimming pool.
I was one of those children who learned how to swim, but was not willing to shove my head under the water and do the front crawl properly. Consequently, after several strokes, I resembled the victim of a piranha attack.
I had nearly drowned in Israel, when a group of us swam out to some rocks. During our return lap to the beach, I expired all my remaining energy, and it was only because a friend kindly waited for me – as I struggled to regain my breath – that I made it back.
I knew the cycling and running aspects of the triathlon would not be a problem, so long as I built up a reasonable amount of stamina in the months ahead. It was the swimming that was going to be the real challenge, so there was only one thing for it: I rode my bicycle to the Prince Regent swimming pool in Brighton and prepared to face my fears.
How I was going to increase my capacity to swim from one length maximum to sixteen lengths was beyond me.
Incredibly – in a wonderful answer to a prayer that had not even come out of my mouth – as soon as I walked into the Prince Regent building, I saw a friend from my local church. At the time, he was in charge of all the leisure centres in the region. I immediately told him I was there to begin training for a triathlon, but I had no idea what I was doing when it came to swimming.
Rick very kindly told me to go to the smaller pool in the far corner and arranged for one of the coaches to meet me there, for a crash course in how to swim properly.
Feeling like the nervous, inept, middle-aged beginner I was, I listened to the coach’s instructions after showing her what I could do.
“Relax and glide,” she said, trying to encourage me. “That’s all you need to remember while swimming. The way you currently swim, it’s no wonder you can only manage a single length of the pool!
“When you have your head in the water, your brain naturally goes into ‘fight or flight’ mode, but once you get over that, you will be fine.”
I rode home grateful that Jesus had clearly demonstrated He would give me the courage to conquer the waters!
A few days later, someone told me about a particular swimming technique called Total Immersion,which changed everything.
I ordered a second-hand book from Amazon and watched endless videos until I couldn’t wait any longer to try out the technique for myself at the pool.
Essentially, there are three primary factors with Total Immersion swimming: firstly, you force your head much further underneath the water, until it is almost completely submerged. This significantly reduces the drag on the rest of your body as you move through the water. Secondly, you stretch out your hands with every stroke, as if you’re attempting to touch the edge of the pool at the end of a race. This enables your body to more easily perform the third primary factor, which is to use your pelvic muscles to twist your body from side to side in line with the strokes and when you bring your mouth up to breathe.
Suddenly, I was loving every minute of my time in the pool. However, it is one thing to be relaxing and gliding up and down a public swimming pool, where you can see the bottom. It is a very different thing to be swimming in a lake.
With only two weeks to go before the event, I was able to attend a practice open-water swimming session in Oxfordshire. When I got there, very early on the Saturday morning, I was nervous. There were about a dozen of us – complete strangers – all of whom had entered the triathlon. Some were more experienced than others.
My whole body shivered as I stood in the shallows and allowed the freezing, fresh water inside my wetsuit. This enables your body to acclimatize to the temperature and not be so impacted once you begin swimming. The coach told us to launch out and swim towards him, as he sat on the edge of a small jetty. I made sure I was at the back of the group before getting my head down in the water and attempting to put into practice everything I had learned.
Unfortunately, the person in front of me accidentally kicked me in the face before I had even managed three strokes. My goggles nearly came off and, immediately, I was in a panic. I couldn’t remember anything I had learned and defaulted to the “piranha crawl” I described earlier. I made it to the jetty, but my confidence was shattered.
Next, we were to swim to a mini island and back again. I had suddenly become that child who is so scared of failing (in my case, drowning), they refuse to do anything. I sat on the jetty by the side of the coach and desperately tried not to imagine what everyone else must have been thinking of me.
My wife says that when I called to report the disastrous session to her, it sounded like I was the closest I had ever come to a meltdown.
The next day, I was at the beach where, for weeks, I had been forcing myself to get used to open-water swimming and not being able to see the bottom. I had measured out the approximate distance I needed to swim by observing a house that had a Union Jack flag hanging from a pole.
Finally, the day itself arrived, but I was shocked.
Standing with dozens of other swimmers, all clad in their wetsuits and numbered caps, I stared in disbelief at the distance from the pontoon to the starting line. It was further than I had ever swum without pausing for a break.
I lowered myself into the water, choosing not to yell something macho and dive in head-first, thank you very much.
I took my time breast-stroking to the starting line and spent what seemed like forever treading water, waiting for the claxon to sound.
I chose my position, very close to a rope that ran the length of the course and separated the swimmers from the kayaks that were there to help anyone in trouble. I was acutely aware, however, that once you touched that kayak you were not only out of the swim – you were out of the entire triathlon.
I had worked hard to get this far and raised £2,000 for charity. I wasn’t about to give up now.
The claxon sounded and we were off! I remembered the mantra that had inspired me at the beginning of this journey:
Complete, not compete.
I didn’t care how long it took me. I would complete, no matter what.
I started the Total Immersion method of front crawl. Though it felt good, there was one thing I had not taken into account. In the pool I could see everything, as you would expect. In the sea, I could see very little, which was trickier.
In the lake at Blenheim Palace, I could see long, winding reeds and nothing else.
For some reason, it completely unnerved me, and, once again, everything I had learned vanished into the murky water.
I adopted a hybrid technique of forcing my head down without keeping it in the water long enough to focus on anything at all. It was far from pretty, but at least it wasn’t the piranha crawl.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a much older man – also struggling but managing to continue – and that motivated me to maintain the pace and keep swimming until the finish line was in sight.
I remember thinking to myself, “If I was a survivor of a sunken ship, what would I do? Would I give up? No, of course not! I would keep going until I reached safety.”
When that finish line was finally behind me, I was very thankful for the assistance of a steward, who hauled me onto the jetty. I collapsed on a nearby bench and, eventually, began peeling off my wetsuit.
Ever since that event in 2017, I have loved swimming in pools or at the beach. Before, I would only ever go in to cool off from the heat of the sun. Now, it is a joy and a delight. And I haven’t forgotten the secret . . .
Relax and glide!
Paul Hatcher is an executive coach who specializes in helping people create time to focus on their true priorities – at work as well as at home. He achieves this by helping clients create a sustainable, healthy work/life balance, increasing their overall performance and health at the same time.
You can contact him via his website: https://www.phcoaching.co.uk