One year ago this week, I stood on the shore of Wissant, France after swimming the English Channel. Blinking and smiling in the early evening sunlight, which was the most golden gold I’ve ever seen, I let myself be overcome with joy and happiness.
It still feels surreal.
The Channel was never just about swimming all that way. It was about years of early mornings, cold water, self-doubt, persistence, incredible friendships, and believing that an ordinary person like me could possibly do an extraordinary thing if I kept showing up and if I wanted it badly enough.
I’m especially proud that this journey also raised over $10,000 for Jumpstart, helping more kids discover the joy and confidence that sport can bring.
The year that followed wasn’t what I expected.
After my swim, my life changed in ways I never could have imagined. For a while, I let that overshadow the joy I should have felt: the joy from that classic golden hour in Wissant, when everything came together.
It also became impossible to keep the swimming momentum going. I wanted to, but healing turned out to be its own endurance event. Looking back now, I recognize how much I needed that break. I needed time to process, recover, and rediscover who I was beyond the Channel and the singular focus of training and training and training. I am many things, and becoming other things.
This summer I’ve played lots of tennis, I rode my bike around Hokkaido, Japan with my nephew, and I’ve swam glorious sunny laps in the delightful oceanside Kitsilano Pool. I swam at the Tokyo Aquatic Center, home of Summer McIntosh’s breakthrough Olympic performance in 2021. I have another bike trip just around the corner, and maybe I’ll do some swimming in Ireland in August. The world is my jellyfish! I’m looking forward to organizing an exciting roster of swims for 2027 with a clear head, a refreshed body, and a better understanding of who is really on my team.
I couldn’t have done any of this without so many amazing people. Thank you to everyone who paddled beside me, trained with me, coached me, mentored me, encouraged me, fed me, believed in me, donated to my charity, or simply encouraged me to keep going when things felt impossible. Especially to those who support me beyond swimming. Every solo English Channel swim may have one swimmer, but it is always a team achievement.
Happy Channelversary to me. Here’s to the next chapter. 🌊
I have certainly been oot and aboot, as we Canadians say. I’ve been in places I didn’t expect to be, but somehow seem to be the right places at the right time, most of the time.
Facing a crappy snow year on the mountain, dealing with ongoing fuckery, and generally in need of a change of scenery at the beginning of the year, I rented an apartment in Vancouver. Kitsilano, to be exact, and it has been a great call and one of the coolest experiences. Kits ticks all the boxes: an 11 minute walk to one of Vancouver’s nicest beaches, Pacific ocean sunsets, bike paths, cherry blossoms, and friendly people. I have loved my Kootenay and Kelowna homes, but I think I’m in my ocean swimming phase this year. Salt water heals and makes my hair look great. 💅🏼
Vancouver is home to VOWSA, an active open water swimming community that I hope to get involved with this summer. I also joined the English Bay Swim Club who practice at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre, and have enjoyed a mix of short course and long course Masters practices. Exploring other pools in the city has been fun, and I can hardly wait to swim outdoors at Kits Pool and the pool at Second Beach this month. I’ve been biking and exploring and thriving in my little 700 sq ft space with a blooming magnolia right outside my bedroom window.
Work travel combined with a long overdue girls’ trip took me to Quebec City in March, where I snuck in a swim at Laval University’s lovely facility.
I presented the story of my English Channel swim to a fabulous hometown crowd at the Rossland Museum in April. I have worked on different narratives that might suit specific audiences, and my Rossland attendees responded really well to an overview of both my swimming history, approach to training, and the swim itself. I pretended that everyone in the crowd was naked, which made me feel relaxed and happy, since Rosslanders are very good looking people. You can watch the talk here.
I am presenting my swim story for the Across the Lake Swim’s Lake Club as an exclusive member webinar on May 12. The Lake Club is ATLS’s new membership offering, and I’m looking forward to dishing the details for this community. I am also serving as a Swim Squad Ambassador for Across the Lake Swim for the third time. ATLS are running several new events this year, including a starlight swim and two new events on Vancouver Island. If you are interested in any of these events as a first time participant or seasoned swimmer, please let me know and I can offer information, mentorship, and a discount code.
“What’s next, Aerin?” still weighs a little heavy on me at this point, almost one year post Channel swim. The truth is that I really did need to take my foot off the gas this year, after nearly three years straight of pretty intensive and structured training. I wanted to focus a little more on other things. I didn’t have the motivation for the weekly kilometres. My bank account needed a bit of a bum rub of love. And honestly, the personal situation that derailed the celebration and processing of my swim kept not calming down and carrying on and throwing weinerschnitzel at my head.
I’m starting to feel ready to start planting swimming seeds again, as April showers turn to May flowers. Two friends who will swim the Channel this summer are coming this very weekend for some ocean training. You can follow them here – I know they will both smash it!
I’m taking off for a cycling trip to Hokkaido, Japan with my nephew in June. Since a bicycle needs a fish, I’ll be swimming along the way as well.
August means a trip to Ireland for work, combined with other amazing swimming opportunities. Thinking maybe Galway Bay? Fastnet? Suggestions welcome!
And there are the Across the Lake swims, some VOWSA events, and just generally trying to enjoy my life and maintain my peace, and get back to a place where more training and structure makes sense. Getting there!
All in good time. And all a good time. A fresh start means everything and I really needed one. For someone who has planned and structured meticulously for the last few years, it’s nice to just stop and smell the flowers. There are a lot of flowers around this time of year. I hope you’re enjoying them too.
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.
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.
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.
Post-swim London hijinks with Brent.
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.
Back in the Scrabble saddle.
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.
ATLS Ambassadoring
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. ♥️
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.
📷: Stan Stores
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.
📸: Debbie Collingwood
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.
📸: Debbie Collingwood
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.
France in sight
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.
The White Horse Pub, Dover
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. ♥️
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!
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.
Logging lots of pool time!
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.)
Dream Team
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!
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!
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.
Invested in a proper DryRobe
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.
Palm Springs Montréal’s Parc OlympiqueRapide!
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!
