My husband and best friend both love to swim
In all seasons
I am much more of a fair weather swimmer
But this brilliant guest post from Anna Wilson
Has really got me thinking that I should challenge myself
I love the sea
I love swimming
Should I brave the cold?
“Why on earth would you want to swim in cold water?”
“Do you really not wear a wetsuit?”
“You don’t swim through winter, do you?”
“Doesn’t it give you a huge shock?”
Whenever I tell non-swimmers that I swim in the sea all year round, every day if I can, these are the kind of things they ask me. And their voices are usually raised in disbelief. So I just grin and shrug and tell them, “I love it.”
It is hard to answer why I do it. You may as well ask me, “Why do you write?” – which in fact some people do. They usually follow up with, “Do you do that every day or do you wait for inspiration?”
Writing, like swimming in cold water (especially on a freezing, dark winter’s day) is not something that happens by waiting around. The longer you wait, teetering on the edge, staring at the blank page or the dark watery depths, the longer you’ll stay there waiting. And the appeal of wrestling those words down, or pushing out through the waves, will diminish with every moment you procrastinate.
Both writing and swimming require a certain amount of discipline – the more you do it the better you get at it, and the more you get out of it too. Conversely, if you give up regular practice, you lose your edge. This is true of course for many things in life. I used to play the piano and saxophone every day for years. I became pretty good at both as a result. Then I allowed working life and a young family to get in the way of my daily practice, and –
boom! My dexterity and breathing and lip strength all faded away. I am not so good at either instrument any more.
Yes, I get a shock when I plunge into cold water. But that is kind of the point! The shock is a thrill. I have to breathe deeply and kick and splash until the shock passes, but then I get a wonderful fizzing sensation through my body – an excited feeling that stays with me when I get out, dry off and gulp down my first coffee of the morning.
Strangely, writing can give me a similar thrill. If I plunge into a scene or a chapter – even one I have been worried about – after an initial struggle, the words start to flow and the piece starts to take shape, and I get a buzz of excitement which doesn’t leave me for the rest of the day.
I am acclimatised to cold water now to the point that I can stay in for a lot longer than I used to. Yes, of course there are days when I think, ‘I am too tired today/too cold/not in the mood’, just as there are days when I look at a blank page and think, ‘I have nothing to say/don’t know what to write/am too tired/too cold/not in the mood.’
But then I run down to the cove and hear the sea’s loud whispers. I see that, yes, the sea is choppy and, yes, the sky is dark grey and threatening rain. There is not so much of a swell after all, and the rain isn’t likely to fall for a good ten minutes or more. So before I can talk myself out of it, I am throwing off my clothes, wriggling into my costume and heading to the edge of the rocks. And then I’m in! And I’m feeling the tingling sensation that I’ve been craving. I’ve stopped thrashing about and I’m swimming at a normal pace, enjoying the dark green glass of the water sliding over my hands, the feeling of warmth moving through my core, the mixture of greys and blues swirling in the sky overhead.
Swimming, like writing, is my own personal ‘factory reset’. The minute I plunge in – be it into cold water or a fresh new page – I am switching myself off and on again. In fact, the two things are so integral to my daily life – so intertwined – that I can hardly see the seams. When I am swimming, I am writing in my head. And often, as is happening right now while I type these words, when I am writing, I am swimming in my head too.
So there you have my answer to: ‘Why do you do it?’ It’s the same answer for the question, ‘Why do you write?’ I do it because I have to, because it excites me, because there is no other way to feel that I am truly alive.
Taking the plunge sometimes brings a shock, yes. But it always brings rewards.
2023 Nature Month-by-month: A Children’s Almanac written by Anna Wilson and illsutrated by Elly Jahnz, is published by Nosy Crow in collaboration with the National Trust. £9.99 hardback. www.nosycrow.com