Swimmingly

Much as I’m loathe to use a cliché, I’m also genuinely astonished at how drastically things can change in a week. Last Monday I felt alone, frightened and was wholeheartedly despairing of my living situation. This in turn had absolutely ruined my work ethic and any chance I had of doing anything other than just getting on with things in the best way I could. At which I was also failing miserably. I think perhaps the worst consequence of this situation was that I’d also completely given up on weight-loss; shifting my excess was just one too many responsibilities and the will to do so had leaked out along with my motivation, and frankly my giving-a-(four letter word). So what changed?

On Friday night I went home. I snuggled up on the sofa with Tony and Philip and watched Toy Story 3 until I fell asleep. When I woke up at 7am I went quickly back to sleep wrapped, as I was, in my own nest. Unfortunately I awoke feeling just as agitated and nervous as I had the previous day, albeit for very different reasons. For that day was the day of the Marie Curie Cancer Care Swimathon. 

Months previously, when I was swimming regularly and was hopeful of my abilities I signed myself and Tony up for the 5k Swimathon option – that’s 3 miles to us simple folk. 3 miles of continuous swimming. To say I was feeling less than confident would have been an insult to apprehension, I was terrified. Given that my last attempt at swimming (documented in previous entry) had seen me struggle my way to a mile and then throw up afterwards, I was under no illusions of my ability, there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to complete this swim. Luckily I had only raised around £120 in sponsorship and had stopped asking for it as soon as I realised I was unlikely to be able to deserve it. However, for the sake of the sponsorship I had managed to glean and, more pressingly, so that Tony wouldn’t be disappointed in me, I put on my swimsuit and we headed off to Christleton Leisure Centre.

Upon arriving I was confident that my failure would not be well-witnessed being as we were the only people in attendance. Unfortunately this was due solely to Tony’s propensity to arrive anywhere incredibly early and soon we were swimming in swimmers. Luckily though, not everyone was taking part in the 3 mile challenge, some were only doing a mile, so I was confident that I could sneak out when they did, admit my failure to the lane-counter and pretend to everyone else that I’d signed up for, and completed, a mile. This wouldn’t have happened though, my own propensity is to be really and stupidly honest, and I would have admitted to everyone that I’m overweight and unfit and could never have completed the ridiculous challenge I’d set myself. So, instead, I put on my stupid, rubber hat and pushed off from the wall.

My plan was to reach a mile (64 lengths) and see if I could continue. I secretly thought I might be able to swim two, but wasn’t willing to admit that to myself until I got within 10 lengths of it as it would also be a colossal achievement. Having struggled up to100 lengths and stopped to have another drink and stretch out my now aching arms I started to wonder if I could get to 160 lengths and therefore have managed two and a half miles. Surely that would amply discharge my promise and show everyone that I’d really, really tried my hardest. So, absolutely amazed that I was still going, I pushed on towards my new goal. And I reached it. No one was more surprised than me – except perhaps Tony who thought I’d gotten out of the pool about an hour ago. By this time my upper arms were terribly sore and a really strangling headache was developing under the rim of my stupid, rubber hat, but also developing was a personal vendetta against this swim. I was determined to finish it even if it meant a migraine or possibly more vomiting afterwards. It had never occurred to me that triumph may even be an option and here it was within my aching reach. One of the biggest driving forces though was how proud I knew Tony, my parents and my friends would be. Having watched me give up on everything else recently, this was something I could do to prove I was still worth it, that there was something I could do, some way that I could still surprise them.

2 hours, 17 minutes and 48 seconds after first donning my goggles I realised my dream. It was a dizzy, chloriney, achey, tired dream, but a dream nonetheless. And it was worth it to hear Tony say he was proud of me and see the huge smile on his face. Unfortunately it was closely followed by a McDonalds but considering how much energy we’d used swimming 200 lengths crawl I’m pretty sure we’d earned it. It also stopped me throwing up on the way home and ensured we were able to attend the other event of the evening – the second leg of a stag do complete with man wearing wig, dress and leg warmers with makeshift boobs made unusually from Bibles. We may have only lasted for two drinks, but we made it to the club, danced a bit, saw our friends and then went home for a well-deserved sleep. Plus, we woke up without the usual Sunday morning hangover!

The best news this week though was that Tony has set a date to move to London. We’ve even been able to start looking at flats, and it’s this more than anything else that has turned my mindset around and encouraged me not to give up. Whatever happens now, whatever Scario throws at us, however hard London is on my own, it will be softened by the knowledge that I won’t be on my own for long. At the moment I feel as though our life together is on hold and I’m now counting the days until it can start again.

Oh! And sponsor me J ........please? x http://my.artezglobal.com/personalPage.aspx?registrationID=366681&langPref=en-CA&Referrer=http%3a%2f%2fswimathon.org%2fpage.php%3fpage%3dSponsor_a_swimmer