As another swim year wraps up, I’ve been thinking less about distances and times, and more about what I’m ready to leave behind. I’m also thinking about what I want to carry forward into the water in 2026.
This isn’t a list of trends, or a best of, or a holy shit that sucked. It’s more of a personal audit. The kind you do after enough long swims, cold mornings, annoying injuries, questionable snack choices, and the inescapable KNOWING that you still want to be doing this for a very long time. As mentioned in a previous post, September Is the New Year after all, and January is just another month in the swimming year. So no resolutions at this point, I’m afraid, except to keep on keeping on.
But since it is the season for celebration, I capped off 2026 yesterday with a delightful 100×100 with my friend Patti. In three and a half hours down at the Trail pool, we hammered out 10 km (400 lengths and 300 flipturns) for the Inaugural First Annual Kootenay 100×100 Christmas Grinch Swim. We used the brilliant marble method to keep track (thanks Julie!) – moving a marble from one vessel into another at the end of each 100 metres. Eventually, all 100 of our respective marbles moved over to their festive jars, and we celebrated with treats and a hot tub. Doing this sort of ridiculous stunt with a friend makes it so much more fun. We hope to have many more joiners for next year’s edition. And we’ll make arrangements so that the water slide is open for a victory run.
Ok. Here’s the Outs and Ins.
Out in 2025
Grinding for the sake of it.
More kilometres don’t automatically make us better swimmers. Sometimes they just make us grumpy and tired. I have learned that intentional practice, whether that’s a short technique session or hard sprints, makes a bigger difference in how I perform during the long ones. Not endless long swims.
Ignoring early warning signs.
That polite whisper in the neck or shoulder that eventually escalates into a formal written complaint. I’m lucky to have excellent help from my physio and my RMT (and confer many, many blessings, hugs, and smooches upon them), but waiting until I can’t turn my head or nod along to a song is no longer happening.
Proving something every swim.
Not every session needs to be epic. Some swims are just… swims. And that’s fine.
One-pace, one-stroke thinking.
Endurance isn’t rigid. It’s responsive. Also, chop happens. Sometimes you have to turn on the gas. Sometimes you have to preserve your legs. Sometimes you have to impress a man on the beach with your open water butterfly. Sometimes a pelican might dive bomb you, and then what are you going to do?
Confusing suffering with strength.
Endurance sports involve discomfort. They do not require misery as a personality trait.
Comparing volumes instead of outcomes.
What someone else swam this week on Strava has absolutely nothing to do with what my body needs today, or what I need for my specific goals. Give kudos, but fuck comparison.
In for 2026
Intelligent endurance.
Training that respects age, recovery, and the fact that I also have a job and a life, both of which I love. Again, outcomes over volume is where I need to focus, and the intended outcomes are where I need to grow. The research is new, but it’s there. More on that later.
Listening early.
Responding to signals before my body decides to escalate.
Quality where it counts.
Purposeful intensity. Thoughtful long swims. Easy days that are actually easy.
Adaptability.
Changing pace. Changing stroke. Embracing the IMs that I really do love. Changing plans when conditions demand it, whether those conditions exist in my mind or as a bat signal in the sky.
Rest as part of the plan.
Not a concession. A feature. This is a big one for me.
Swimming for the long game.
Because I’d like to still be doing this when I’m old(er) and wrinkly(er).
Getting more serious about nutrition and feeds.
Not “winging it,” not “I’ll figure it out on the day,” and not pretending I’m fine on vibes or bananas alone.
This means practising feeds, fuelling early, fuelling often, and accepting that vomiting while swimming and then continuing to swim is a skill — not a character flaw. My love affair with UCan came to an unexpected end this summer, but I will continue to experiment, iterate and test. Suggestions always welcome!
A Channel, a Pause, and What Comes Next
Crossing the English Channel is something I will always celebrate. It deserves a proper moment not just for the swim itself, but for the years of consistency, patience, and mild stubbornness/obsession that made it possible. And the people who helped make it happen.
As 2026 grows closer, the question becomes: what now, and how do I want to approach it?
For me, that means turning my attention to my Catalina Channel swim in July, and to two significant swims here in British Columbia that are still wrapped under the tree for now. I’m heading to Croatia in April with Swim Trek for some cold water training and can’t wait for this new experience, new friends, and the investment in travel that always brings so much learning and joy.
None of these bodies of water cares about my past accomplishments.
They will, however, care deeply about preparation. About adaptability. About fuelling properly. About showing up ready, excited, and steady. Could “steady” be my word for 2026? Do I finally feel steady, after what this past year has wrought?
The longer I swim, the clearer this becomes: the strongest endurance athletes I know aren’t louder, harder, or more relentless.
They’re steadier.
They know when to push and when to hold back. They trust accumulated fitness. They eat before they bonk. They understand that durability is earned through restraint as much as effort.
As I head into 2026, that’s the swimmer I’m aiming to be: anchored, adaptable, well-fuelled, and still deeply in love with the water. And a little steadier than now, but I’ll get there.
Here’s to swimming smarter.
Here’s to swimming longer.
Here’s to staying steady.
Here’s to 2026.
