I’m 47 and I can’t read my body. Is there a support group for this?

I mentioned before that I was diagnosed with bone cancer at the age of 15. I have had multiple operations, treatments and have had to learn to walk more times than I care to remember. My last operations was in 2019 and I’m still using a walking stick.

How can I trust my body? From a young age I learnt I can’t trust it; and now I definitely can’t trust it. I have been diagnosed with chronic neuropathic pain. My body reads pain when it should just be quiet. It convinces my leg (complete with swelling, redness, bruising etc) that it has been injured when it should just be registering a bit of tiredness, or a change of temperature, or a trouser leg gently touching it.

So, how do you train when you are managing pain? Should I take it easy and skip training when I’m not feeling 100%? Or shall I push on through hoping to ‘shake it off’. Who knows?!?

What I do know is that I’m surrounded by inspirational women. Diane Nyad is my old time swimming hero. Her book ‘find a way’ has inspired me to look at challenges as something to take seriously, comfront and look for ways to overcome them. Often, I charge through things leaving a path of destrcution and a trail of blood behind me.

Still buzzing from our trip to Lake 32 I arranged to go to vobster with my friend Dace for a training swim. The plan was to try and intersperse some sprints with some normal swims to see if I can manage to swim the Henley mile at a decent speed.

The thing with chronic panic is that you just never know when it will creep up on you. Low and behold I had a terrible night of sleep, my leg felt as if it was made of lead, my hands were swollen and my shoulder blade felt as if it was out of place. (sighs)

Determined to find a way I decided to tuck into my #thisgirlcan bag of goodies and take my new swimsecure bubble swimcap, Zoggs goggles and swimming costume for a spin. Much to my amusement I discovered that the new swimming costume (complete with bust support!) was the same as the one that Cath Pendleton wore when she swam in the Antartica. Surely this was a sign, right? Channelling my inner Cath Pendleton I made my way to meet Dace.

As we got ready to swim I told Dace that instead of sprinting I was going to go for slow and steady and maybe only do half of what we had agreed to do. Before swimming she had to take pictures of me looking like Cath in the Antartica though. Poor Dace, even Katie the lifeguard was amused by our antics.

Amused by the cheek of comparing my vobster swim with the Antartica ice mile I got into the water. Dace pressed on ahead while I settled my breathing.

Head down, breathing steadily, focusing on streamlining and on a decent catch I started to flow. My body relaxed, the pain eased off and I felt whole again.

After 400m I was shivvering, the bad night sleep catching up with me, so finished the loop and got out. We can’t win them all but at least I showed up. And I tried, by doing so I found a way to be proud and be present. Filipa x