I haven’t ventured into a swimming pool since 2019. In my head I suppose I feel there should be a bit of pomp and circumstance attached to the momentous occasion of my first training swim. But no, it’s just me at 6.30am and an exceedingly warm, rather ‘compact and bijou’ 14m hotel pool. I discover slightly too late that the s-t-r-e-t-c-h element of my swimsuit has gone ballistic during the past three years. The ‘flattering wrap effect’ of ruched fabric no longer hugs the lumps and bumps of my contours – a double-edged sword right there – but sags sadly around my torso. Oh well, I’m not here to win any fashion accolades. And, luckily, I have the pool all to myself for now. The first challenge is negotiating the slightly slick flooring tiles and the step up between the changing room and the pool surrounds. Although my knee replacements mean I’m no longer in excruciating pain with every step, I am still learning how best to negotiate different situations. When confronted with a very hard tiled surface, the reflex is to stiffen up and I have to consciously relax. Whilst I no longer need to use a stick, sometimes I feel I’d like the extra bit of reassurance, especially on slippery surfaces, slopes and when tackling steps. Reaching the pool edge, the next challenge is getting into the pool itself. The steps are footholds embedded into the pool wall, with handrails of course. I find going down surprisingly tricky. It requires greater dexterity/agility to transfer my weight from foot to foot, whilst leaning back slightly, than I would ever have given a second thought to previously. Naturally, I manage to miss the bottom step and blunder backwards into the pool in an ungainly fashion. Typical. But I have made it into the water. I feel I have already achieved! Glancing down, I realise that the aforementioned, overstretched swathes of fabric are undulating gently around me like luridly coloured kelp. Note to self – move ‘replacing cossie’ up the priority list. My hair is already stuffed into my swimming cap and I have my earplugs firmly in place, so all that remains is to adjust my goggles … and I’m off! Breathe in, head down, I push off from the wall and relish the sensation of gliding face down in the water for a second or so, before starting to swim. And I instantly recall exactly why I love swimming so much. I feel so at ease in the water: supported, confident and comfortable. I automatically go into front crawl which is my preferred stroke. I always breathe to the right and I’m a bit surprised that establishing the rhythm of inhaling and exhaling comes back instantly. I’ve never had a lesson in my life, so I’m sure my technique leaves a lot to be desired, but at this point I don’t care! Before I know it, I’ve reached the far end of the pool. Although there is sufficient depth, I can’t tumble-turn due to yet another medical condition. I have BPPV – Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo – what a mouthful! This means that an abrupt change of position can affect my inner ears, resulting in severe dizziness which often lasts for days. Through trial and error over the years, I’ve discovered that the combination of earplugs and turning my head to the right only, whilst swimming, does not usually provoke an episode. So I simply touch the wall and push off to return to the other end of the pool. It’s such a small pool and I’m enjoying myself so much, I clock up 40 lengths in what feels like no time. In the interests of being able to move my shoulders tomorrow, I decide it’s prudent to call it a day. I’ve probably already overdone it but I feel a real glow of pride and sense of achievement. Day 1 of training is under my belt!