Truths of the Channel

Truths:- If you swallow 800-1000 sips of water in an hour, its got to come out sometime, somehow.

Lungs don't like salt water, vomit or sewage.

Leaping into cold sea 4 times in a day with no sleep, little food and sore lungs is tough.

Endurance is the name of the game - not enjoyment, I barely said 2 words to the rest of the Seabreezers during the 16 hours and vice versa.

Fear of failing the team is what gets you in the water, the purpose you are swimming for gets you through the hour. 10 October 2012

Moralee's eyes were so wide open, as she loaded on the swim glide (for chafing) snapped her hat on her head and adjusted her goggles. Pitch dark 3.15am and she had to jump off the side of the boat and swim to shore. Not a sign of hesitation, she set the bar for the attitude we would all need for the day.

As the klaxon sounded at 3.22am she ran and dived into the sea and started to swim towards the light on the boat, 3 parents waving from the shore, and a boatload screaming from 20 meters away in the sea, and then she swam, like she always does, confidently smoothly and fully in control. The start of an epic journey.

Martin our observer put the thermometer in to check water temperature, 14.5 and with 9.5 air temperature it was nipping at the bones! Lemon had brought a whiteboard, so we could do timing countdowns, it wasn't til sarah yelled 'how long!?' With 15 minutes to go that we realised she hadn't seen any of them. It was a similar story for Lemon and I, doing the 2nd and 3rd legs. The only thing you could see were lights and shapes, and as I can't swim in a straight line, I was soon 30-50 meters away from the boat in the dark. To get in, I climbed down some steps onto a small platform, being covered by water, and waited for the bell, I was watching Lemon, with a smile on her face as usual, but the rules state I had to pass her in the water (a proper relay) and the advice we had was just get on with it,I jumped into the sea and swam to Niki,  no hugging, just a shout of 'amazing, well done! And a 'go Nikki' from her' then my arms and legs did the rest. Its fair to say it was cold, but the serpentine was just as cold, and the programming from those practice swims helped me remember that movement is key, and stopping is not an option.

Therefore after a couple of minutes the water temperature was fine, but swimming in the dark against a head wind (if that's the correct term for wind that's driving directly at you) it means that the water breaks from different angles, and at least 60% of your breaths contain some seawater, I did a calculation, in my first leg I was averaging 60 strokes a minute, I breathe approx every 3rd stroke so 20 times a minute x 60 is 1200 breaths, around 800 swallows of water...it wasn't until my third leg that I understood what impact this would have. But one thing I did discover, if you cant pee while you swim, you have about 3 litres to get rid of as you come out (thank goodness I had the excuse of still throwing up as i left the water to stay at the back of the boat)!!! Joy!!

The dark means you can't see what's coming, so you just have to trust your body to carry you through, the volumes of seawater finally made me realise I couldnt stop so learnt to throw up while I swam (20ish times in my first hour), and focus on the fact that it's only an hour. I remember the dark, the silence and the glimpses of the moon, the stars were crystal clear along with the moon which was low and huge, quite spiritual, and the only nice thing about swimming in the dark!

I was helped by a little warm glow of feeling watched over by two men recently departed from this world, my Dad Don Coope and our friend Mike Wynter who needed the help of the charity I was swimming for in his latter days, both of them died in September, and I committed to my Mum and to Mikes wife that I would swim for them. I wrote their names on my arms, one on each, and they powered me forward when I felt weaker, well, alongside fear of failure for my team and commitment to my cause inspired by cancer sufferers and survivors.

The sun began to rise and began to set on my swims, which is a beautiful experience for a swimmer even with glaring orange light on your goggles!! All of our second legs were the strongest, I pulled 66 strokes a minute, I'm pretty sure that's the fastest I've ever moved, the desire to stay warm was high and movement helps, but beyond that I realised there was a job to do, (I had that song in my head ‘when you’ve got a job to do you better do it right...) and with that mental attitude I frankly attacked the sea, using my bad mood to clear what was in my path, and get on with it. (I was miserable from the first leap in, I don't know how Lemon kept smiling, everything in my mind told me to stop, and I couldn't find the joy in it I'm sad to say).

Unlike when you swim with teammates in the sea, gaining energy from the interactions there's no time for chat, for considering if you're going to run out of breath or for anything except swimming.  I was truly proud of myself for answering that doubt full on with 'yes I can!' I promise there is nothing like swimming in 120meter (at its deepest) deep water, with only your movement keeping you afloat, that motivates you more to stay that way. But even with all our sea swims (30+ for me) you just don’t swim solidly for an hour, there is always a turn midway, or an accidental landing on the beach (yup my navigation was crap from the beginning) so there was always a moment to catch my breath!. You don't run out of breath you just breathe heavier same as normal exercise, your heart pumps harder, you take more breaths the harder you work - simples! - the only difference was the intake of sea water.

After my sunny second leg Bridget gave me a hug and a talking to 'just think how far you've come, concentrate on why you're doing it, you're looking amazing out there' - all things I needed to hear, she just took it all in her stride - such strength. I ate a bit more, with an appetite this time and realisation that if I didn't my body wouldn't be able to support a powerful swim, its hard when your tongue is swollen and chapped, and your tastebuds have gone. Bread tastes like cardboard, and the only way is to drink while you eat. Hot cups of Tea from Ben and a little snooze on the cold but sunny deck calmed me down.  

The third hour was my hardest, apart from the massive patch of seaweed which fortunately I skimmed because of my lack of straight lines, I also hit a rough patch, Pete told me afterwards that he'd seen it coming, but didn't tell me because he knew that wouldn't help matters. It was like being back in Brighton on a full windy day like a washing machine churning me around. It was at that point my vomit started looking red. To add pain, I found myself with 5 minutes to go but seemingly miles from the boat, and with the cold and tiredness came a new panic. I could see the boat and thought it had stopped to let me catch up, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't reach it. The reality was it was still moving but exhaustion and fear meant I was a wreck by the time I got out. As my son Ben dried me off and helped me dress I was close to tears, coughing up blood and whispering that I didn't want to do it any more. He coaxed me gently, knowing it was highly likely I'd be in again, reminding me about my wonderful cause, and how grandad was watching over me, and how proud he was of me. This time I ate some Goats Cheese and Chilli crisps (OMG if you haven’t had them, get some!) with my sandwich and cucumber, and a major handful of Minstrels our chocolate of choice during our training, and something that will always now trigger those girly beach visits, deciding how many more times we should get back in vs lie in the sun. The Sun - I forgot to mention that. From the very beginning I believed we would have a beautiful day, despite the crappy UK summer, only about 2 of our training sessions were truly rainy and miserable, one day in brighton, and one in worthing. The rest were dry bright and more often than not sunny, the girls would laugh as the sun came beaming out, and I’d be smug in my belief, but to the point that eventually we were all ‘programming’ the universe about the sunshine. (This was also a subject raised in Dads funeral - he believed in ‘Luck of the Coopes’ and so do I, The sun shines on the good - we were doing good that day:) So, when you check out the pictures, that’s what you’ll notice, beautiful bright blue sky and a gleaming sun bouncing off all of us. We couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather. We could have been gifted a slightly different wind - but that’s a trade off Moralee and I made on the monday when we took the decision to go despite the crosswinds they were expecting.

There's no-one who can tell you what you're going to experience on that crossing, when I got into the water for the last time, it was following Niki who struggled with major hip problems and looked in pain while trying to keep going, breast stroke seemed to help and her lovely Rob took up a position to keep her going at the side of the boat, it didnt give me any more confidence that my last leg would be easy!

So it was with a pumped up, motivated team around me who became excited that I would be the final person in who would land, we were only 1.4km from the shore, and ‘All’ I had to do was to ‘Cane it’ to use Peter’s words for 30 minutes and then leap out onto the rocks in France. It looked so close. I still haven’t debriefed it from all angles, so I don’t know the full picture, but my experience was that I ‘Caned it’ - Martin reported my stroke was again at 66 a minute, but after what seemed like an age, and calling on every resource in my kitbag, (I thought about all the people I know/knew who had cancer throughout my life, I thought about those who survived and how they have lived their lives in more meaningful ways, I thought about their fears, their treatments, their experiences, and I tried to get some perspective on mine. I used Dad and Mike as my arms, knowing they would both gift me a little energy if I asked, I thought about everything except how far i’d gone) It was about then that I hit sewage. Initially I thought the boat had dumped its toilet load, but it hadn’t, the smell and taste of the water were disgusting, I have no idea how bad it was, just that the smell alone was making me gag, I kept trying to pretend it wasnt there, but there was no mistaking it, and my lungs can vouch for it...

I don’t look up when I swim (its called Spotting), because its still something that makes me even more unstable in the water as my legs drop down. As a result the only place with ‘data’ was the boat - which I was miles away from again. I kept watching the dingy at the back, believing that at any moment someone would be getting in it, and would follow me to the rocks (I am quite clumsy so I confess I wasn’t looking forward to mashing my face into the rocks, but Pete gave me a lesson about going with the sea swell!). Anyway, no-one got in the boat, and no-one was making any moves towards it, I was feeling completely in the dark - yes the sun was setting, quite beautiful, but also I couldnt see detail on the boat, when I ginally got closer I could see a sign, held high, and with a sinking feeling realised it said 50 on it. I swore outloud and hard, no wonder I was feeling so spent. At that point I finally looked up, and there was France, still about 800 meters away and I definitely groaned, All that F’ing work, and I hadn’t even made it, and there was no way I was making it in 10 minutes, Bridget would be taking us home.

What I hadn’t realised is the tide had turned, Niki drew the parallel to watching me swimming in a slip stream the current was so fast, but I did what a team does, I got us as far as I could, apparently good enough to hit the bay where the tide dropped and gave Bridget a cold,dark but hopefully more tolerable ride home.

The last 10 minutes was hard, the only resource I had left was my automatic mode, learned after hours of drills with Peter, floating, arm extensions, paddling up and down, and finally doing the crawl, I counted my stroke. I knew that if I got to 700 then I had done the last 10 minutes, there was nothing else, just me, the stroke and the water, my words when I used to do the pool drills and the hours of learning to swim from 18 months ago were ‘I am in my own Merry Hell’ and I truly was. What a revelation and a weird cycle back to the early days of my swimming. (It wasn’t til 3 days later they told me about the massive Jellyfish I had missed by an inch....).

I could barely get back to the boat, Bridget was eager to set off but I was holding her back, and it took the last heave to get me out of the water, and the second heave to finish off emptying my stomach and lungs. My relief was audible and visible i’m sure, my final strip off and dry was accompanied by Bridget who I could see through the changing room window at the same level, the sun was pink behind her, and she was powering through the water with no hesitation - taking us in.

Niki Lemon was yelling to me to get upstairs to come and share the experience of Bridget landing, and we did, we watched her little green dot disappear into the darkness and make her way to the beach - too dangerous to land on the rocks now, and suddenly she was there, standing on the beach in Calais, with us screaming our joy at her for getting us home, and at ourselves for our unbelievable achievement.

If anyone wants to know why we didn’t join her on the last leg - we talked about it many times in the lead up to it, but there was absolutely nothing that would have got me back into a wet swimsuit and back into that water for a 5th time - as romantic as it might seem, the pain of trying to get 4 of us dry and changed in a 1meter square changing area and also the crew trying to watch 4 green dots in the dark - it was a ‘No Way’ from many voices. Would I do it again? Nope not on your nelly.

So it was done. 10th October 2012 a relay team called the SeaBreezers conquered the channel in 15 hours and 19 minutes. For me I conquered a long term fear of the water, found 4 deep friendships, discovered the resources I have within me, raised money for an important cause, and achieved an extraordinary journey which will be told to my Grandchildren and Great Grandchildren, I hope, with pride.

WWW.Justgiving.com/Nikki-Watkins-Seabreezers

Make Memories!

It's so dark outside, and having just made sandwiches, packed food bags, and run over the lists again, I have just read/listened and digested all the lovely messages from people wishing me luck, love and as my mum said in her text 'Make Fantastic Memories'...

Isn't that what we're here for? My last 18 months has been FILLED with fantastic memories - 'firsts', my first 10 lengths (with the girls wondering if I'd ever get to 50!), my first mile, first serpentine freeze and meeting the incredible range of ages jumping in, the first sea swim with the yellow hats, our first open water competition and finishing it, first panic in the lake and being supported out, first 2 hour swim, first 4 hours of swimming in a day,and now a first of getting on an off a boat in the middle of the channel to swim an hour at a time.

This is the first time I will be doing a challenge like this with the spirit of others encouraging me on. Its the reason I took it on in the first place having been inspired my friends and family who had cancer and survived (or didn't), then proved they were living by creating fantastic memories themselves.

My wonderful Dad will be with me, telling me 'nothing good in life comes easy', he thought I was mad preparing to swim the channel, and talked regularly about his brother Edmond who was an open water swimmer his whole life, and used to come out of the sea quite blue! Also our dear friend Mike Wynter who died last month after a battle with cancer, I promised his wife Jan I would swim for him, with him in my heart.

So, less than an hour to go, a quick photo opportunity with Ben - wearing my new Seabreezers hoody and ready at last to make Fantastic Memories

WWW.Justiving.com/Nikki-Watkins-Seabreezers

The Night before the Night of....

I knew this time would come, and as i rechecked my bags, kit, clothes, and mental state, I realise I am relatively calm, with just an undertow of adrenaline. We are just waiting to find out our start time - sometime from 3am Wednesday 10th October 2012... Wonder how I’ll sleep tonight..

I can honestly say I am not in the form I was in 5 weeks ago, the life events overtook the training alot, but I can also say I have done the best I can, I can swim an hour at a time, and I am fully connected to my body and it’s ability to do extraordinary things.

Someone just reminded me that it probably won’t be as hard as childbirth (27 hours for Jess), or my Karate Blackbelt - (5 days of torture culminating in 12 x 2 minute sequential fights, black eyes, bruised ribs and shins, torn up feet and black forearms from blocking too hard).

Yes it probably wont be that hard...but it’s tough in a different form...swimming in the dark of night...with air temperatures of 9 degrees and sea temperatures under 16 degrees....on seas battling between a warm air front from the north east and a cold air front from the south...trying to warm up on the boat...dealing with seasickness which is apparently inevitable....while trying to keep down a sandwich or two...Yes it will be some adventure.

The departure of my special friend Claire back to Vancouver has meant that I had a space on the boat for a supporter, two wonderful young men jumped at the chance - my nephew Oliver whose enthusiasm for my challenge was visible on holiday when he asked me daily about my successes and learnings, and my son Ben who has been telling people since I first started training that he was coming on the boat - he manifested this one for himself!!

So, with that level of support, with the wonderful other 3 Seabreezers and our fab coach Peter all ready to set off for our big Channel swim, and a recent reminder of how fortunate I am to be alive, fit, healthy and loved - how could I be anything other than grateful, anticipatory and excited.

One more sleep, One team, One crossing, One hour at a time, One arm in front of the other, Just keep Swimming...

www.Justgiving.com/Nikki-Watkins-Seabreezers

THAT phone call

Last night, Thursday, I had just landed back from a successful client meeting in Amsterdam, had enjoyed a glass of wine in the lounge and an amusing chat with an old colleague, and was on the bus back to the terminal when my phone rang.

Sea Breezer Sarah Moralee was squealing down the end of the phone, and my immediate assumption was that we would be swimming the next day - more fool me for that glass of wine!! THANK GOODNESS her next words did not match that assumptions. "I've spoken to Mike and he's got us down to swim on Wednesday, the tides are good, the sea is calm, and we have to be down there for a 3am start on Wednesday 10th October, eeeeeeeeekkkkkkk" (or a squeal to that effect :)

After another excited girly squealing call with Seabreezer no. 2 Bridget, on the drive home, I was reflecting on phone calls and texts, the exciting ones and the terrifying ones. How many calls I have made and texts I have sent, in the last few weeks to precious friends and family to share the news about Dad, or to update them on the swim - certainly the bringer of news, just in different flavours. Now that the swim date is fixed (well unless mother nature has other ideas), then there will be the phone calls afterwards, sharing the story and the adventure we all had.

For now though the mood is one of utter excitement, and the challenge of getting the 4th seabreezer Niki back in one piece from Egypt in time to swim, she lands at 10pm tuesday night, talk about cutting it fine.

Fortunately our acclimatisation is still working, we went swimming last Saturday to remind ourselves of how cold water can be, after an hour in the Serpentine at 14 degrees and the shakes kicked in, as they did in the old days, sea temperatures should be a couple of degrees warmer, although starting in the dark at 3am the air temperature will be cold (see frost on windscreen thursday morning).

We took this picture during the 30 seconds that the body doesn't know yet how cold it is, I sent it to a friend who said we looked like the Latvian synchronised swimming team - am searching for a compliment somewhere in that statement :)

So now on waiting time to get the phone call that confirms we are off on Wednesday and until that, life goes on. To quote myself, and my little sister recently struggling through practicing our tribute to my Dad at his funeral tomorrow, 'Keep Swimming, Keep Swimming, this'll be one for you Dad xx'.

Enjoy the Journey, not the end game

Its 10pm, Friday 28th September 2012.

Like many, you are probably thinking "The channel swim should be over by now for Nikki and the team!, Should I ring? Did it go ok? The weather has been awful!"

So, who knew.. Who knew except our Pilot, who chose to not proactively tell us, that the week you choose to swim the channel is 'Just a guide'. Just a guide, towards which you have been training for 18 months, towards which your wonderful friends coalesce, travel from canada, and call, write, connect with you to see 'how it's going'....

In all other walks of life a date is a date (well, let's face it except childbirth).. But not this one - Mother nature truly has her fist wrapped around this one, deciding what weather shines or blows through, and in this case this is the daily reports that we were being issued:-

Dover -- Shipping Forecast - Issued: 0405 UTCMon 24 Sep Gale warnings - Southwesterly storm force 10 expected soon Wind -- Southeast 5 to 7, veering southwest 7 to severe gale 9, increasing storm 10 for a time.

i've no idea what that means but gale force 10 seems just a little extreme to me! Despite the sunshine in Great Kingshill with my amazing friend Claire from Vancouver and I having a lovely swim at the local Lido (temperature 21 degrees, and she has a new appreciation for how cold that is - remember we'll be swimming in 17 maximum, and that's warm compared to what we've been swimming!) The channel has had other ideas.

If we reflect and wonder why this has happened, I have to reflect on our real ability to be able to cope with the challenge, Niki and Bridget were both pretty ill last week after managing olympic activities and major organisational change initiatives respectively, and I have definitely been feeling weak and odd as I have been dealing with my fathers death last week. Poor Sarah was the only one really ready, so perhaps Mother nature was taking care of us? For me, the gift of a week to spend at a different pace, being a tourist in london and sharing memories and moments with Claire that wouldn't have been possible if the swim had happened as expected.

Our Pilot has told us he believes we'll swim before christmas, OMG, We seriously hope so, can you imagine a snowball fight one day and swim the channel the next? October is often good weather, and apparently the Neap tide is not all its cracked up to be - or perhaps it is, but if we want to swim, it'll just be a bit harder!...

So, To those of you who have sponsored us, to know our spirit is still FULLY ON! we are swimming in the serpentine in Hyde Park tomorrow morning at 8am - if you have been in the UK this week, it's not warm... swimming will continue and our commitment to our various charities does too. Yet another wonderful friend of mine died this week from cancer, and his wife asked me to swim for him, He was called Mike (the same as our Pilot), I'll absolutely swim for you, just have a word up there to make sure we can!!

We are also having a seabreezer dinner tomorrow night, to just stay deeply connected to each other, and perhaps celebrate the opportunity to extend this challenge and these relationships a little longer. Niki Lemon, Sarah Moralee, Bridget Gisby and Peter Frost, you are all wonderful special people, I can't wait to swim with you.

A reminder once again, that the journey is as important as the end game, as my strength and power return it's each day that matters.

Swimming in Treacle and Healing Hugs

Saturday 15th and Sunday 16th were always planned to be the last all girl swim before the channel neap tides began 23rd September, we put them in the calendar one afternoon early 2012 when we were all together building our training plans, it should have been the most fun weekend, all the hard work done and being fully ready for our swim.

After an exhausting week sitting vigil with my very sick father I said my goodbyes and headed down to his brothers in Sandbanks Poole to meet the girls for a swim saturday afternoon and a few hours on Sunday. Saturday was beautiful, the swimming was simple and cleansing, and the warmth of the late afternoon sun was a perfect balsam to a tired soul.

Sadly at 3am my twin called and broke the news that Dad had passed away, and amidst tears and whispered conversation i confess to feeling both huge sadness and huge relief - he lasted 9 days in palliative care with no food or fluid, he was made of stern stuff it appears, and at last was resting in peace. One upside was that it meant I could tell his brother face to face, small comfort for us both, but the connection to Dad in that hug was very special, something about serendipity there...

As usual, I paid scant regard to my emotional reaction, my rational self telling me that it was a blessing for him, crying a little but then ‘cracking on’ as he would have wanted. The day was grey and cool, but the sea was beautiful and calm, and the first hour was pleasurable with some extra drills in place to practice changing the pace up and down, something I am crap at. As we waited for Niki to arrive after a friends wedding, we did gymnastics and olympic long jump on the beach, giggling like 5 year olds, but anything to keep warm!

So you can see a picture of normality! Well, as normal as 3 grown women wearing multiple layers of towels, dressing gowns and hoodies can look on a deserted beach pretending to be olympic athletes. Pictures to prove it...

So, Why the title ‘swimming in treacle’?

The sea is always warmer the second time you go in, don’t know why, mental game I think. We were all smiling at the fact that at last the 4 of us were swimming side by side again, and the reality of being only 1 week away from the start of our swim was just brilliant. We swim at different paces, well, Moralee basically beats the rest of us hands down while we all try and keep up. We swam for 30 minutes down the coast, when the tide is gentle it means less need to swim back and forth - one of the brighton swims was 25 minutes in one direction and only 7 in the other for the same distance. It was about that point i noticed that my fluidity had escaped me, having learnt to swim from scratch, my muscle memory is pretty good, but I felt tired, in pain, and decidedly lumpy... in fact, on reflection, decidedly soggy.

Despite trying to be brave, keep going, and push them down, tears were trying to force themselves up. On land that isn’t a problem (although driving while crying is hard I have found), but when your face is buried in water, and your eyes are in goggles, the feeling was one of suffocation, and the harder I tried to stop them the slower my body went, my emotions being buried meant my body was somehow playing out the feeling, the slow, sad, weariness of the previous 3 weeks, and the sleepless previous night, and I was getting refusal. I hadn’t associated grief with the impact of shock. Even 4 days later as I write this, I am exhausted, trying not to worry about training, but just getting mentally fit for next week instead.

Anyway, how did it end? I swam slowly until I got into the buoy swimming area, where I could stand up, and then with the gentle waves, cool breeze and nature all around me I wept. I cried hard, those wonderful loud gulping noises we make when we no longer care what people think, sobs wracking me and salty tears joining the salty sea all around me. Bloody hell nature is amazing at helping us heal in that way. Niki, Bridget and Moralee swam to me, and gave me the most precious gift - they held me, all three of them hugging me, wrapped around me whispering, and encouraging me to let it go. I apologise unreservedly to them for the snotfest (to use my twins word), but not for the tears, and thank them from the heart of my bottom for just ‘being’ with me in that moment.

If you ever want to test the human spirit, just let your friends in. If you ever want to make new deep forever friends, take on a challenge with them. Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, its about learning to Dance in the Rain. The Channel swim has become a metaphor, alongside the passing of my wonderful dad, for living life to the full, for all those people who realise today is for now, go large or go home! If you want to sponsor me.... WWW.Justgiving.com/Nikki-Watkins-Seabreezers

Commitment comes in all Conditions

Two weekends ago Sunday 2nd September, we had to divert from Brighton as Gay Pride week was on, so in an attempt to find somewhere equally easy to get to, we scoured the south coast and decided on Worthing... Sounds nice?!

It was grey, raining and miserable - remember, I am the queen of ‘It will be glorious’ but for once, the universe conspired to ensure we were prepared for different weather. In an attempt to not get everything soaked, we agreed in the end to drive Bridgets car and park next to the beach on the main road, and get changed in the car. Our plan was to only wear our swim gear, flipflops, take one towel each and the car keys. Everything else was in the car (including my own car keys, all the phones, money, etc).

Walking to the beach was fun, people in waterproofs, welly boots, coats and umbrellas watched bewildered, and we sniggered at the curious sight we must have made. Fortunately I had packed a dustbin liner, so we packed our towels and keys and headed into the sea. It is a weird experience swimming in the rain, quite liberating, what we hadn’t bargained on was the masses of brown seaweed, the dirty water and the rip tides. Nonetheless we were determined.

At one point we were trying to swim a final 10 meters to a flag pole, it took 10 minutes of hard push to get there and as soon as we did we were swept back again! It was at that point we noticed how high the tide was, so decided to call it quits. At 80 minutes we finally staggered onto the beach as we watched my flipflops already floating and the sea lifting the bag up on the waves. Remember, inside the bag was towels and keys, we had NOTHING else with us.

Whilst the universe might have had ideas about the weather it also had a warning about preparation and safety. Even though my preparation skills are ok, I’ve always been a bit reckless (hated that word when someone first called me it), but it was a sobering thought that we could have been on a beach in the rain in our swimsuits with no way to contact anybody, no money, no transport, no phone. I’m sure people would have taken pity on us....wouldn’t they?

To add insult, we discovered there were no showers - there are never hot ones, but the seaweed and water left us covered in muck, in the end we found a storage cupboard with trains in and changed there - so unglamorous!! Especially when the train man came in midway through....

So, whilst you may have seen countless shots of us on sunny beaches, smiling happily, with ever growing sun-tans, we are committed in all conditions, even if the worthing weather comes to visit us while we are on the boat - after all, as I learnt long ago.... Prior preparation prevents pi** poor performance!!

Tomorrow, Saturday 15th September, we are heading down to Sandbanks, for 2 days of swimming. The weather is destined to be beautiful, the beach is sandy, the sea certainly not as dynamic as Brighton, it will be the last time the four of us swim together before the Channel swim itself - Mental, Physical, Emotional and Spiritual Preparation all wrapped up together, can’t wait! Especially as the team swimsuits have arrived!!