English Channel | Open Water Aerin

Are you going through something?

I originally wrote this post on World Mental Health Day in October. I chickened out of posting it, but I think it’s ok now. So let’s talk about mine, and yours, and ours.

I’ve stewed over whether my website is the appropriate place to discuss personal things. My original purpose in starting this blog was to journal my swimming journey while going through a challenging period in my life – the divorce from my partner of 17 years in 2017. It was a difficult time for me, and swimming was absolutely the best tool I had to move past the pain, develop a new focus, and commit to working on myself. I wrote about my struggles and how the water was helping me work things out. This combination of writing and swimming has worked for me in several other difficult circumstances, including the death of my father in 2019 and my English Channel DNS in 2024. It’s a proven method.

Since then, this site has become so much more. It’s a timeline of the events I’ve participated in. A journal about training. A travelogue, of sorts. It’s also a record of the accomplishments that I’m very proud of. And it’s very much a community (based on what readers share with me) rather than just a place to jot down my musings. I like to keep it fluid (hence “Open Water Aerin”) and part of what makes it valuable for me, and hopefully others, is that physical health and mental health – and the way that these two things are just LIFE – relate to swimming. I swim for my physical health. I swim for my mental health. Without swimming, my physical and mental health would suffer. But like any valid attempt at balance, it is an ongoing project and a work in progress. The feeling of flow I have when I’m swimming isn’t necessarily how I’m feeling about my mental or emotional state in general. Swimming is how I try to get there. Sometimes it works and sometimes it’s harder and takes longer. Right now is one of those times, dear friends.

“Under the pillow a little room to breathe
The early morning light’s a pale cranberry
I hear the Aaa-aah-aah not now-wow-wow
Of a siren faraway and closing steadily

Saying Are you going through something?
Are you going through something?
Cuz I – I – I – I I am too.“

Gord Downie, The Depression Suite

So yes, I am going through another very personal challenge. If this gives you the heeby-jeebies, then I’d suggest that you stop reading here and maybe visit some of my other posts. Consider this a trigger warning if you have experienced infidelity or emotional trauma, and give yourself the space you need.

If you’re still here with me, I’d like to tell you what really happened with my English Channel swim.

My partner and I started our relationship in late 2018. As with all relationships when you’re over 40, we came to it with some baggage and battle scars. Despite all this, we built a partnership focused on our compatibility: mutual attraction combined with a passion for adventure. As skiers and cyclists, we enjoyed holidays near and far. He introduced me to bike touring, and we cycled in beautiful places in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy, as well as nearer to home in BC. We found connection in our shared love of literature, philosophy, and cinema, admired each other’s ambition and commitment to our careers, and shared places, like my home in Rossland. We planned to spend our lives together.

In many ways, our relationship was a perfect partnership based on pure and undeniable common values.

Or it seemed to be.

(this is the gross part, so there’s still time for you to go and do the Wordle or whatever)

Four days after my English Channel swim and 8 hours after saying yes to his romantic marriage proposal on the white cliffs of Dover, as we were about to leave Deal for our London trains to Germany (for him) and Edinburgh (for me), I learned that he was having an affair with his ex-wife. The affair had started a few weeks before the swim. I’m not going to comment here about the timing of all this, because I think it’s pretty obvious that their timing was less than ideal. I now understand the timing to have been intentional, which adds another layer of steaming hot rat shit garbage to the story. He was on the boat, cheering me on, saying “I love you, Aerin!” during my feeds. So yeah – four days of post-swim celebration with my whole support team came crashing down in a shitpile of shock, anger, and disbelief.

My salt tongue had barely disappeared. My fingers were still post-swim wrinkly. I had a lot of media interviews to do. Most of these next few weeks were a blur, much the same way that the middle chunk of my 16.5 hour swim was a blur. I know I was there….but was I really there? I came back to Canada on July 14 and knew I had to deal with it. All of it.

At first, I fought back. I hear the terms grit and resilience tossed around a lot, and I do believe in my heart that I am a resilient person who embodies a fair bit of grit. But I fought back, since that is what I thought a gritty and resilient person should do. I would not let this awfulness shatter the experience of the swim. I’m not proud of all of the things I did and said, although some of these things were certainly deserved. I am particularly frustrated that I lowered myself in an attempt to save the relationship, because in the months of cruel limbo, the affair continued, my mental health suffered, and my swimming stopped.

Getting in the water made me feel sick. I cancelled all of my planned events. I avoided the beautiful lake at the end of my street. I went to the YMCA/H2O Centre where I love to train, and sat on an exercise bike in the gym overlooking the pool, watching people swim laps, glorious laps. But I didn’t get in. I stayed up late. I drank a lot of wine. I smoked a lot of cigarettes. My brain played endless loops of the disgusting scenarios I knew about when I tried to sleep. I didn’t sleep. I mostly ate cereal and nectarines. When I met with friends, I wasn’t there. It wasn’t me. The endless loops consumed me.

At the same time, I was in the middle of processing my English Channel swim. I was aware of the well-known “Channel Blues” that swimmers experience when processing such a big event. In fact, most athletes experience a cycle of lows after accomplishing a major goal, whether that’s a marathon, a summit, an Ironman….you name it. It’s not new, and it’s not unique to me. The hours and hours of training and preparation and anticipation and focus all suddenly come to an end, and then what is there? There’s a void. A void in my schedule. The critical pressure that, for me, pushed me to swim and train and stick to my plan was over.

I expected that I’d have to deal with the Channel Blues. My intention was to keep swimming all summer to ward it off – maybe even do another big one – but definitely to keep connecting with my lovely local swimming community at our summer events. I was looking forward to writing about it, too. Reading back, I can feel the tension in my writing voice.

But I wasn’t even able to talk about my swim without crying. Writing that I had a lump in my throat feels like a cliche, but that’s exactly what I had. I had a giant lump in my throat and a gaping, bleeding gash in my heart. I forgot things. I forgot how to talk, sometimes, which is difficult for someone whose ability to make a living depends on talking and communicating effectively. I declined opportunities to speak about my swim. I couldn’t concentrate. My head hurt. I was nauseous all the time. I was mean and impatient with cashiers and at the person driving slowly in front of me. I was always tired. I created a script that I could use, and when asked, I gave scant details about the swim, except to say that I couldn’t remember much about the middle. A few anecdotes about jellyfish, barfing, and the beach in France seemed to tide people over. If you were someone to whom I gave this truncated and bland account, I’m sorry. Now you know.

I had to do something about it, because I wanted to swim and I wanted to move on. But mostly, I wanted to stop feeling the way I was feeling. I sought out the best counselling I could find immediately in the aftermath of the grisly discovery, and continued this work through the summer and fall as I flailed and ruminated and gasped for air, like a fish out of water. My doctor prescribed anti-anxiety medication to help me get some rest. I walked, and the dog probably lost 10 pounds. I started using different thought models and tried to make a practice of journaling and applying therapeutic cognitive behavioural techniques. I tried really hard, because I’m a hard worker. I wish I’d told more people about what I was going through, but it felt somehow weak or ungrateful or fragile or embarrassing to admit the mental mess I was in.

It took me 16.5 hours to swim from England to France, but it’s taken me almost 20 weeks to be able to write this post – to tell you that our common mental health struggles are that – they are COMMON. When I told people how I felt, the response was often “me too.” My relationship situation is not unique. My partner is not the first person to have an affair, as he so kindly informed me. My post-swim depression is not unique. Even the combination of the two hard things has probably happened to someone, somewhere. If it’s you, let’s please find each other and go and find some water. Or throw axes.

I should have spent the summer in celebration mode, and some selfish assholes stole that from me. But now I’m doing ok, or at least giving it my best go.

I’ve been swimming, outside and inside. I’ve been walking a lot. I’ve been spending as much time with friends as possible. I’m trying to continue to do the work I need to do. I’ve come to some understandings that weren’t transparent to me in July and August and September and October. I’ve done some forgiving (mostly of myself), and I’ve shifted back into focusing on my physical and mental health, my productivity, and the things I want to achieve in swimming. There are many things. So many things. I am starting to talk about my swim with pride and joy. I can say how happy I am that I raised over $10,000 for charity. I’m looking forward to sharing the story of my swim with young’uns and old’uns and everyone in between. If you’d like me to speak to your class or organization, just send me a little note here. (I’ll keep it clean ;))

If you’re going through something, please understand that you are not alone. It sounds like another cliche, but I’m not sure how I would have pulled through without the support of my PEOPLE. You know who you are, PEOPLE. I LOVE YOU. I think we should talk about mental health more often than just on the “designated” day. I’m happy to talk with anyone who’s struggling, any time. I always have time for you.

I am your people. Now go listen to that Hip song (here’s the link again) and have a lovely day.

What’s Next?

Posted on August 2 by Aerin Bowers

I celebrated my one month Channel-iversary this week. It might have been with a few margaritas, since something happened to my tastebuds during my sixteen hour salt bath. Coffee tastes gross, beer tastes funny, dairy products taste like chalk, but the swim still tastes like a success.

That being said, I have not been swimming very much. I feel like I’m still processing the swim, and getting little bits of my brain back. I can accurately describe hours one through four and twelve through sixteen, but there’s a big murky middle where sensory deprivation and focus took over and I couldn’t tell you whether I was happy, tired, scared, or hungry. Beginnings and endings are much more interesting to me anyhow.

I’ve had ample opportunity to talk with both media and friends about my English Channel swim and was frankly surprised by the level of interest. People seem to be very curious about so many aspects of the swim, giving me a steady supply of topics to write about in the future. That one constant question though: what’s next?

What is next? I made the mistake of committing myself to several summer swims that should have seen me back in the lake racing almost every weekend. I’ve pushed back against the inevitable pressure these events would put on me – self-imposed, but still pressure – and cancelled! As someone who hardly ever cancels anything, I struggled with it and still wonder if I should just pull up my pantaloons and get back out there. To be honest, I have enjoyed not “training” over the last month, and have relished the long dog walks, Rossland hikes, bike rides, hangs with friends, and gym sessions. I haven’t dragged my bum out of bed any earlier than 7:30 am, and I haven’t consumed a single ounce of UCAN.

This month, what’s next has meant my next meal or next episode of The Bear (for the second time through).

I do have a lake swim in mind for later in the season, but that’s a big maybe right now. I don’t know if the logistics can work for both boats and crew, and it’s one I’d definitely want to do right, or not at all. So maybe that’s next, but maybe not. Upcoming holidays will certainly involve swims in Zurich and Thun, but it’s all for the pleasure of leisure at the moment.

One of the best things about swimming is that there is an almost endless list of potential “nexts”. I’m waiting for the lightning bolt of inspiration to strike. There are local lakes to bag. Big ocean swims that I never considered have now become possibilities. My English Channel swim has opened a lot of doors, especially in my own head, but rushing instead of processing and savouring feels wrong. These first short swims from Sarsons Beach are my way of easing back into the structure that I love and need, but it’s really all about the ease, which I haven’t enjoyed in a few years. So go easy on me, and what’s next will reveal itself soon. Or maybe in a few months. ♥️

You’ve Gotta Be Tough: An English Channel Swim

Posted on July 10 by Aerin Bowers

We did it!

With the expert navigation of the pilots of Optimist, unrivalled coaching and encouragement from Brent Hobbs, and Debbie Collingwood’s superb attention to all of my nutritional needs, I swam from England to France in 16 hours and 33 minutes on a spring tide.

I started at 2:30 am GMT from Samphire Hoe near Dover and walked on to the beach at Wissant, France at around 7 pm CEST. I spent ten minutes celebrating with Brent (who followed me in from the boat as Official Safety Swimmer) and a group of lovely French people who were enjoying the beautiful evening sunlight. Then, as the French Coast Guard dictates, I walked back into the water, swam about 200 metres out to the boat, climbed a ladder, hugged and cried and hugged and cried, and then promptly fell asleep for the three hour journey back to Dover.

To be honest, my brain hasn’t seemed to “upload” the swim quite yet, potentially due to some unexpected post-swim information that demanded some extra processing. I can remember sections, like standing on the pebble beach in the dark at the start, thinking “Holy shit, I guess I’m going to do this!?!” when the boat sounded the horn and I went for it. I remember finding it difficult to confirm where my position should be relative to the boat, especially in the dark, as I was told to swim on the starboard side. I do always breathe bilaterally, but my right side is dominant and much more comfortable.

I received my first jellyfish love bites on my face and my forearms about an hour in. It hurt and it stung and the pain lasted much longer than I expected, but it turned out to be nothing I couldn’t handle. Nobody peed on me from the boat, thank goodness. I saw many other pretty and colourful jellies along the way, which also made the experience feel magical and surreal. Sometimes they bumped into me, as if giving me a little nudge.

And yes, despite taking Zofran and other anti-nauseants and antihistamines ahead of time, and relying on UCan as my priority energy source, I still vomited around 4 hours in. If it hadn’t been for Debbie’s approach to my feeding plan, and the magnificent concoctions she created that gave me nutrition, hydration, and pain and nausea management exactly when I needed it, I don’t think my swim would have been succcessful. Because this swim is HARD – and required me to turn on my speed and kick and push and get faster and stronger just when my body would normally tell me to go and fuck my hat. I always had enough sustenance and calories and focus. Maybe it was eye of newt after all. Maybe she’s….a wizard.

The middle of the swim – hours four to twelve – are murky in my mind. The sun rose, I changed to polarized goggles, and I was aware that my left boob was just hanging out the whole time, even though I had specifically chosen a bathing suit that normally holds the girls in and doesn’t chafe. I guess my boob wanted some glory too. I tried to adjust this during my feeds to save time, but she persisted. Oh well.

The last four hours in French waters were hard and forced me to dig deep to places I’d hoped I could access but never really had before. The strength of the current that was pushing me back into the Channel instead of into the Cap forced me to use every bit of mental and physical strength I could muster. Brent communicated this risk to me during my feeds, and I knew he meant it. I could sense the concern from the captain and Stan, the official observer from the CSPF. This is the section where most swims are aborted, especially when the tides change. And given that while I am a swimmer with reasonable technique and endurance, I am not particularly strong or fast. I’m 50 and more physiologically suited to pinching perogies. I have small hands and feet, and I’m 161 cm tall. The “Channel weight” I’ve maintained during my training helps to keep me warm and buoyant (and cuddly), but it doesn’t make me faster.

So – I had to find the will somewhere. I had to reason with myself, and tell myself that I could do anything for one more hour, and then another hour. I had to think about my Dad and conjure his voice, saying “Come on! You’ve gotta be tough!!” I had to use the power of the words of the people on the boat, who believed in me. Somehow, the shore grew closer, and then I was standing. And then I was walking, and crying, and clearing the water on all sides as required.

🎥: Debbie Collingwood

There were many more people who contributed to this effort. People who paddled for me, like Scott. People who built kick-ass training plans, like Amy. People who swam with me, put in kilometres alongside me, and urged me to get in the water, like Phred. People who saw that I wasn’t actually very tough, like my RMT Terry Downs who watched me levitate when she tried to work on my neck. And Jess Deglau, who is an amazing physiotherapist AND one of Canada’s best butterfliers ever. Emma France from Dover Channel Training, who introduced me to UCan.

Holger. My Mum. The Hoffmans. Nicole and Craig. Martyn. Kylie and Robynne. Donna and Don. Brendan. Sarah. My ATLS SwimSquad. Gary and Jane and the lovely champagne!

And Catherine Taylor-Ludolf. Without her kind and selfless offer to switch spots, I would have had to wait until September, 2026 to attempt my English Channel Swim. I know she’s gonna smash it out of the park. She’s such a star.

I also just achieved my fundraising goal. I raised $10,000 for Canadian Tire Jumpstart Children’s Charities through the generous donations from people all over the world, including The Earl of Sandwich, who we met on the train from London to Dover. Many people donated twice – which truly makes my heart grow three sizes. Jumpstart has been a dream to work with. I will keep my donation page open as long as folks are interested.

After a few emotional days in Edinburgh, I sit on the grass in London Fields, where I’m just about to have a swim at my favourite London Lido. Everything is going to be ok, and maybe this is just the beginning.

Everything is ok and maybe this is just the beginning. ♥️

Off We Go!

Posted on June 27 by Aerin Bowers

I’m writing this from the Kelowna airport, where I’m impatiently waiting to board my flight to Toronto, and then London, England!

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of preparations, packing, and handling last minute details. Ran out of time to get my hair and nails done, but at least I remembered to shave my armpits and moisturize my heels, which are also important aspects of an English Channel swim.

I completed my peak week of training in Slocan Lake, which at 15 degrees was the coldest body of water within reach. Extra special thanks are due to Craig and Nicole for the lovely hospitality (and cracking sauna), and Scott for the expert paddling in some crazy Kootenay conditions!

Since then I’ve tapered and sharpened and hydrated and slept and eaten, and finished a very important second quarter at my real job! I’ve connected with my pilot, Paul Foreman, and we are hoping to set off on the good ship Optimist very early next week. I will post updates here, on Instagram, and in a public WhatsApp group that you can join here. Trackers for the swim can be found here (select the boat Optimist at the top) and here.

I’m so grateful to Canadian Tire Jumpstart Children’s Charities for their support, and encourage you to help them on their quest to ensure that every Canadian kid has the chance to participate in sports and activities. Over 4 million kids have accessed Jumpstart grants – let’s help another 4 million do the things they love! I’m getting very close to my fundraising goal of $10,000 thanks to so many generous people. Every dollar goes directly to Jumpstart, and potentially to a kid with a big dream, like swimming the English Channel.

Extra special thanks go to my coach Brent Hobbs, my best pal Debbie Collingwood, and my love Holger Andreas for stepping up to crew my swim. The dream team/motley crew will convene in Jolly London tomorrow morning, and then off to Dover we go! Get ready for some silly walks, Spam jokes, and German efficiency. I’m hoping for a very short trip on the Dovercoaster this time. Stay tuned and thanks for following my grand adventure!

The Big News

Posted on April 3 by Aerin Bowers

As many of you know, I was supposed to swim across the English Channel last September. The weather gods made other plans, so I waited around in Dover for 7 days but didn’t get a chance to swim. Swimmers call this period of waiting and wondering and hoping and despairing “the Dovercoaster” and I rode it like I stole it.

I had a few months to lick my wounds and process the disappointment, and soon enough I refocused my training for an attempt at California’s Catalina Channel in late June. And then in late February, world events (that I won’t get into here) impacting the safety, security and sovereignty of Canada led me to a decision to cancel my Catalina slot to avoid travel to the US. Without an official BIG SWIM in the plan, I thought about things like joining a square-dancing club, becoming a tradwife and learning to pickle, or unicycling to the Yukon – all worthwhile pursuits but not what my chlorinated little heart really desired. I would just have to wait until September 2026 for my chance to swim the Channel.

I’d been off Facebook for a while but found myself back in different swimming groups to look for someone to take my Catalina slot. And the day after I canceled it, I noticed a video with a story that would change everything. The person in the video – an accomplished marathon and ice swimmer in the UK – had been training for an English Channel attempt in July 2025, but an unexpected and necessary medical intervention would make that date impossible. She was looking for someone with a later booking who might want to swap.

It dawned on me. She was looking for someone with a later booking who wanted… to….SWAP!

She was looking for me!

I sent a message saying that indeed I would love to swap my September 2026 window for a new window of July 1-10,k 2025. She responded, and through some truly wonderful conversations we decided to move forward with requests to our respective pilots and the two Channel Swimming governing bodies. It seemed to happen all in a happy, dreamy blur – the pilots agreed, the governing bodies agreed, some paperwork and international transfers happened, and there you have it. I WILL swim this year!

I am so grateful to Catherine for putting it out there. I know she’ll be back and ready to smash it come next September, and I will do everything in my power to honour her generosity and swim my best swim ever in July.

Which means….that I’ve purchased another ticket for the Dovercoaster, and it’s a mere 18 weeks away. My window opens on July 1, which happens to be Canada Day. And I think that’s quite a perfect day to do something awesome, especially this year. I confirmed my intrepid support team (stay tuned…although I can say that Brent the Beaver is back to remind me to keep my elbows up, the decorated Triple Crown swimmer Debbie Collingwood will keep me focused, and a certain German that I love dearly will be frying weinerschnitzel on the boat.)

I’ve renewed my fundraising campaign with Jumpstart Children’s Charities. Having raised over $5000 toward my goal of $10,000, I know I can get there this year! I am honoured to partner with a Canadian organization making such an impact on the lives of children all over the country by removing financial barriers so that they can experience the activities they are passionate about.

Buckle up, ‘coz the Dovercoaster rides again! That’s the news!

The Post I Didn’t Want to Write

Posted on October 2, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

This is it. This is the post I didn’t want to write.

I wanted to write an exciting and rollicking post-English Channel swim recap, but instead I’ll take a deep breath and just say it – the swim didn’t happen. The weather got the better of us and despite waiting a week for a window of calm, the window remained firmly closed. The wind blew and it rained, and the waves in the Channel reached 2 ft +.

I’m disappointed, of course, but it’s necessary to put all things in perspective since there are no guarantees in this sport. I’ve had so many lovely messages of support (you GUYS! 🥹🥰) and so many questions.

So, here’s the Coles Notes/Bowers Brief version, or the FAQ:

Pilots book up to 5 swimmers on a tide. I was booked in the number 2 slot with mine. The swimmers in the number 1 spot, a relay from Iceland, did get to swim on Saturday. They made it!
Saturday was the only day within the previous 2 weeks that boats were out and anyone got to swim, due to a persistent, rotten weather front. I think there were a lot of swimmers hanging around waiting. Misery loves company!
When you book a swim (often several years in advance), you pay a non-refundable deposit and sign a contract that acknowledges that you may not get to swim and that everything depends on the weather and conditions. The pilots will not compromise anyone’s safety, so you might just have to suck it up and accept that these experienced and capable people know what they’re doing. The pilots make the call. September has been pretty good in the last few years, especially the water temperature, so I hadn’t been too worried that the weather would be a problem.
If you don’t get to swim, you may be offered another spot on a future tide, for which you must pay another non-refundable deposit. The current spots offered to me are all number 5s for next June/July, so I will need to weigh my options before confirming a new date.
Yes, swimming is an expensive sport. Yes, it’s worth it.
Yes, there is a risk in telling people what you’re hoping to do, because it might not happen. 98% of the people in my life are gracious and kind and supportive, which makes it even harder to come back and say that my swim was cancelled. But these people also strengthen my resolve. The other 2%? Fuck ‘em.
I have been trying to immediately schedule another epic swim to make use of my substantial training and readiness, but it’s really late in the year and I haven’t found anything yet that works with my schedule. I will probably hold off on any major decisions/applications until January.
Training continues! I love training and the structure it provides. I can be in the lake for another 3 weeks, I reckon!
I will continue to fundraise for Jumpstart until I reach my goal. You can read all about my efforts here. I so appreciate your generosity!

Stepping on to the plane in London this morning was rough, I can’t deny it. But I’m also buzzing with very happy memories of the millions of fun things we did while we waited, and I’m really grateful to Scott and Brent for coming on this adventure with me. We had so much fun on the Dovercoaster, and that’s what it’s all about.

The English say “Chin up!” and “Carry on”, so that’s what I have to do while I wait for my next window. Thanks for following along!

In the Thick of it

Posted on March 28, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

March: month of leprechauns and lions, Ides and madness. I am in the thick of it!

In my last post, I mentioned a little challenge that I will take on in September – swimming the English Channel! It’s a dream several years in the making – all the way back to Grade 7, in fact. Some Howard Coad School bully (there were a lot of them) probably said to me, not kindly, regarding the extensive amount of swimming I was then doing: “What are you gonna do, swim the English Channel? What a barf bag.” and I probably said “YEAH!” and ran home before they could steal another Beaver Canoe t-shirt right off my back. 12-year-old Aerin would have had very little conceptual understanding of the actual undertaking or what I’d agreed to, but it’s really feeling VERY REAL now as I start to check off the application requirements and make VERY REAL plans.

Pass the medical. Confirm insurance. Decide who will be my support team on the boat. Accommodations. Flights. Align training cycles to travels. Documentation. Deadlines, which are helpful and also seemingly always approaching. I’m a reasonably organized sort of person who takes great pleasure in any sort of checklist, and the remaining items mostly involve the coordination of people who are not me. There’s also the 6-hour, sub-16-degree qualifying swim that must be completed before September, but I’m waiting for that sweet spot between 12C and 16C that usually happens in the middle of May. Sweet = a temperature that turns your nipples blue and gives you several subsequent episodes of afterdrop, but I’ll take those over hot flashes any day.

Only Harriet is swimming in the lake so far

Lots of people have asked me lots of questions about this swim. How far? Why? What the fuck? How do you train for that? I will endeavour to answer many of these questions in subsequent posts but thought I’d write a bit about training since that’s what I’m in the thick of. In the meantime, this helpful FAQ from the Channel Swimming Association (the official body under which my swim will be ratified) contains lots of interesting information for the curious.

My training plan is the most detailed and specific that I’ve ever used, thanks to the expert stylings of one Amy Ennion. I followed Amy and her impressive swimming accomplishments for a while before reaching out to see if she’d build a plan for me. And what a plan! I’ve worked on technique, speed, and swimming at my threshold pace. I’ve forced myself to swim slowly to swim faster. I’ve used paddles and my buoy more than ever before, so much so that my buoy has become a second buoyfriend. I am also swimming all four strokes, even though my Channel attempt will be 99% freestyle/front crawl. The other 1% is peeing during backstroke, a technique I have nailed. I might figure out how to pee better on my front between now and September, but no pressure. Right now it’s just fun to splash kick away the yellow so that the lifeguards don’t see. I have just entered a new “mesocycle” to prep for the approaching open water season, replacing 2 of the interval sessions with 2 long back-to-back swims each week. I’m in the pool four times a week, in the gym twice, and at yoga twice (if I can be arsed – I’m trying to fall back in love with yoga). My weekly distance has now ramped up to between 16-20 km. For instance, this week I did 2 interval sessions including a speed test and a pull/paddle-focused workout. I also did 2 back to back 90-minute swims of 5 km each. I’m also in the thick of my busiest season at work, with many long days and lots of travel in the mix.

Fitting it all in is an opportunity and a challenge. In January, I swam in some pretty cool pools in Palm Springs, including the Palm Desert Aquatic Center and Palm Springs Swim Center. The PDAC accommodated my super early mornings and I am still feeling the thrill of swimming outside in January! Under palm trees! I also swam in Toronto in January which was the complete opposite experience with limited morning lane times within the downtown corridor, although the Varsity Swim Centre was fun and very fast! In February and March, I swam in Calgary at the MNP Community & Sport Centre, Waterloo at the Swimplex, London at the Canada Games Aquatic Centre, Hamilton at the McMaster University Pool, and Montreal at the Parc Olympique. Montreal was a highlight as the World Aquatics Championships of Diving were happening, and it was such a thrill to watch the competition between sets! Such tiny splashes, and yes, such tiny Speedos.

I’m using a Garmin Swim 2 to track my training sessions and have slowly become a convert, or at least less of a skeptic since I got the watch in September. The battery life sucks, the features are somewhat limited, and it sort of ruins any nice outfit, but it’s what I have for now. The stats are great, and I actually look forward to reviewing my swim data after every session. I’m working hard toward not working so hard and the ability to track how much time I’m spending in each heart rate zone is helpful. A chest strap would give more accurate data, but I’ll take the watch for now. I’m saving up for a Garmin Fenix 6 Solar for the open water season. The Garmin integrates with Strava, and if you’re a Strava-er you can follow me here. I also use a pair of Shokz OpenSwim Waterproof Headphones for long pool sessions – I do love them and they are a significant upgrade from the Finis Duo that I used for years. My latest swim playlist is here.

I will finish off this month back at the Trail Aquatic Centre during my long weekend Kootenay getaway. I hope yours is filled with giant bags of Mini Eggs filling your cheeks (6 at a time in each), great globs of caramel running down your chin, and several toasty, heavily buttered hot cross buns. Training makes me so hungry. It’s one of the best things about swimming. Come on April!