Embrace the cold.

Picture the scene: it’s minus 2 degrees and pitch dark; there’s a hefty wind chill factor blowing across Brighton beach from the north; the only others awake as we cycle down to the sea are wrapped up in huge coats, scraping ice off their windscreen; the pebbles on the beach are frozen together; and we are about to strip down to our speedos and get in another sea swim before school starts for us both.

Why? It’s the question most commonly asked of us, and the question we have probably most commonly asked ourselves.

The quick answer is that we’re training for our Channel swim. A huge chunk of those who fail in the Channel do so because the cold takes them down, so we’re hoping our regular winter sea swims will stand us in good stead.

But, the question remains: why? It can feel utterly horrendous, as if your skin is burning and freezing all at once. Some of our early swims left us shaking and shivering on the beach, fumbling with zips on coats and desperately trying to pull gloves over concrete-like hands, mild panic starting to loom. We’ve arrived in school, not really sure how we had cycled from the beach to the school entrance, knowing only that we needed to get indoors as soon as possible. We’ve stood in assemblies an hour or so later, trying to appear calm and composed, whilst the body continues to shake and shiver, we’ve sat in meetings trying to hold legs from jumping up and down and battling to focus on whatever everyone else is talking about. We can both testify to the reality of the Afterdrop, a rather sinister-sounding phenomenon whereby the body protects its core temperature during the swim, only for the cold blood from the extremities to flood back into the core after the swim, and just as we have been congratulating ourselves on a great swim and recovery, the manic shivering has started.

Do you get used to it? We think so. Not that we’ve ever merrily strolled into a February sea as if on a spa retreat; but once that first minute was under our belt, we’ve swum for longer, relaxed more, recovered more quickly than we ever thought we could.

But the question remains, why?  

Firstly, as much as the wind and ice and cold are real, so is the incredible exhilaration experienced by cold water swimmers as the body is flooded with endorphins; we’ve found ourselves buzzing, giggling, laughing hysterically just after a swim, and whilst our other halves have simply put this down to the rapid onset of ‘barking madness’, there’s undoubtedly a genuine physiological kick to be derived from ploughing through ice cold water on a very cold day. Perhaps just as importantly, there’s a massive psychological boost on offer too: there are not many occasions when the thought of getting in the water didn’t cause some level of fear/mild panic/denial. And as with so many things in life, facing those fears, tackling something you know is difficult and dealing with it makes you feel – in a small way – as if you can do pretty much anything. Who wouldn’t want to start the day with a big shot of all-conquering confidence?

And then, perhaps most importantly, there’s the magic. Not the Harry-Potter-Flying-Cars-and-Wand-Wielding sort. But the magic of a sunrise creeping over a pancake-flat sea, with the entire ocean to yourself; treading water with a jet-black sea beneath you, and the lights of a city slowly breaking out in front of you; experiencing life with a sharper intensity than you every thought possible. As another swimmer put it: “some days dawn with a glittering intensity and the water is calm and cold and the air is clear and you are the only person alive in the world.”

Why? Why on earth would you not?