Canadian swimmer | Open Water Aerin

Steady As She Goes (Into 2026)

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.

Celebrating 100x100 in the hot tub — Hot tub lovelies with prized marbles after 100x 100. It looks like everyone else in the tub is naked, but they really weren’t.

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.

Trusting the Process: One Month To Go

Posted on May 30 by Aerin Bowers

One month from now, I will be in Jolly England with a score to settle. While the rest of my compatriots celebrate Canada Day with fireworks and Fireball, I’ll be nervously watching the wind forecast from my seat on the Dovercoaster.

Just kidding – I’m not really the score-settling type. But I’m not gonna deny that this time feels very different than the last time I was a month away from an attempt to swim the English Channel.

What’s different?

Last year’s open water training ramp was a lot longer, from May to the end of September. It also included a number of the Across the Lake Swim events as well as my Around Coronado Swim. At the end of August 2024, I’d been really giving it my all for 4-5 months. I was extremely well-conditioned, but I was also pretty tired, and dealing with the expected aches and pains of a woman of my vintage. This time my distance building ramp is a lot shorter, mostly because of the short window of open water swimming in a survivable temperature in our chilly Canadian lakes. Once the temperature hits 12 degrees, I’m generally good to go. Most of my build has been done in the pool during March and April, where I focused on speed and technique, as well as building my weekly back-to-back distance swims.

I’m just about to start my final big distance build cycle before a short pre-window taper. Coming up are a five and a two, a six and a three, a six and a seven, a three and a two, and a two and a two. I will additionally swim three times each week in the pool, continuing to work on technique and speed. On the weekends, I swim back-to-back long slow swims, which is a proven method of training and conditioning for ultra-distance athletes. These long slow swims allow me to relax into the extended period of time both physically, psychologically, and emotionally. I have to accept that there will be boredom and there will be pain. Without fail, I say to myself, “This is what you’re doing today.” at the beginning of each long swim, which creates the mindset I need to endure the time. Long and slow is the name of the game, like a snail doing laps in a bathtub.

That’s not to say that once I accept that “this is what I’m doing today” it becomes easier or less painful, just that acceptance sort of allows me to focus on getting started and settling in. I never know how I’m going to feel three hours in. Last week I swam a five hour in Victoria’s Thetis Lake and had the absolute worst time of my life during hours two and three. My neck burned and screamed at me. My arms complained and nagged. My shoulders called me every bad name in the book. But somehow, hours four and five got better. In some ways, each swim is a lifetime. And in the same way that some people forget the pain of childbirth or suppress trauma, my body and mind allow me to get back in the water the next day to do it all over again, and often I feel better and swim better the next day. Research supports the practice of doing between 50-75% of the distance you’re going to do in your event over back-to-back days. This is the proof that I cling to, partly because it worked for me last year, but also because I believe that it’s necessary to “trust the process” to become properly psychologically ready.

Part of being able to put my body through this amount of training is the necessity of massage and physiotherapy. Rest assured that my benefit limits have long been reached by this point, but I have learned to never scrimp on these crucial services. I work with exceptional professionals who understand my goals and provide treatments that are often specific to the overuse of certain parts of my body; namely my neck and shoulders. I’m in the gym twice a week working on strength, balance, and flexibility, and I use a foam roller, the old “tennis ball in a sock”, and any doorway I can hang from at home. I’m at the point where I can barely shoulder-check when driving, so I mostly ride my bike instead! I’m grateful to Jessica and Terry for putting up with my big baby tantrums and resistance to having my neck touched. I’m also grateful to Holger, and Scott, and Debbie, and my Mum, and Phred, and Brent, and everyone else who listens to me ramble on about my training and my FEELINGS.

The Oru Kayak that gets this snail around the bathtub.

With all this structure, it’s still difficult to “trust the process” and feel confident that I have enough volume under my belt. In fact, I worry about it all the time. The main thing is to get to the day and believe it on that day, and I work on that every day.

Post-swim golden hour at Sarsons Beach, Kelowna

Here’s what’s coming up next, for those who like to be in the loop:

June is Jumpstart Month, and I’ll be kicking my fundraising campaign into high gear! Stay tuned for the fun, and please follow me on Instagram for inspiring content about my WHY, my swim, and how your generous donation can help kids access the activities they love, without financial barriers.
As mentioned, the BIG BACK-TO-BACKS start pretty much now, and I love getting messages of support to help me push through these long training swims.
I’ll be honing and refining my nutrition plan to prevent the barforamas of the past. I’m looking forward to sharing what works for me in both training and on the day, since so many people have reached out to me with similar issues.
I haven’t yet decided on my wardrobe for the day of the swim, but I have narrowed my options to a few solid choices and I’d love your feedback.

Thanks for reading and supporting and cheering and challenging me – this is all part of the process that I am learning to trust, and knowing I’m not alone and have all of you in my Quackpacker makes a massive difference.