The Big Swim

8 minute read

From day one, I knew I could swim the Henley Mile. It was within my physical capabilities, and I was willing to do the work in the lead up to 10 July 2022. It was a challenge; it was something to aim for and work towards alongside the demands of my solicitor’s training contract.

On Sunday 10 July, I didn’t swim a mile; I swam two miles! What? How? When? Why? Are you mad? Just a bit.

Back in April when I was one of six women selected to swim the Henley Mile, I was intrigued by an event running the same day called ‘Suits vs Skins.’ All you had to do is swim one mile in a wet suit and another mile in skins[1]. In May, I shared my intrigue with Becky from the Henley Swim team, and she said I was more than welcome to do the additional mile. I told her I would think about it. As we went into June, I was still toying with the idea. Two miles is a lot, and I had never swum that distance in my life. I wondered if I could be overdoing it. I finally decided that I would do the ‘Suits vs Skins’ swim when I realised that swimming two miles would be excellent training for another Big Swim I had signed up for after the Henley Mile.

I did both swims, but not without hiccups.

I just about got to Henley-on-Thames[2] on time.

My friend Dale and I had a bit of a nightmare with the sat nav, so rather than arriving around 9.15 am to settle in and mentally prep before my first swim, I arrived on site around 10.17 am. I was late. We were all supposed to be there for 10 am in good time for our 11 am swim. I was really late. After some fraught ‘where are you?’ texts and calls, I finally met up with all the other ‘This Girl Can’ (TGC) women and Cath Pendleton, our open water swimming mentor. All the TGC girls were already in their wetsuits, and it wasn’t long before I was dragging mine on to catch up with them. There was no time to dilly dally as we had to walk to the start point about 10–15 minutes away. Gloved and handling my wetsuit as carefully as I could (fingernails can lead to tears and holes), I spotted that all the women had little red and black tags around their ankles.

“Are all your friends criminals?” Dale whispered conspicuously.

“No, they’re not!” I snapped, annoyed that time was running out and there was yet another thing I needed to find.

“Where’d you get that?” I asked Claire, another TGC swimmer, pointing to her ankle.

“You have to register over there to get one” Claire answered coolly, sipping on the free Cola drink they were handing out nearby. This is the luxury of arriving places on time, you get a head start on all the free samples.

I looked at Dale, wondering if he could go and collect the tag for me, but he seemed quite content taking in his surroundings from the bench. That’s the luxury of driving me to Henley, he just needed to get me there, everything after that point was down to me. I resented Dale’s inactivity and blissful ease, so I insisted he came with me to the white tent Claire pointed out.

While I waited for the Henley Swim team to wave their i-Pad about to get some wi-fi reception to register me, Dale was what we call too ‘faast’ in Jamaica. Lured by the free sachets of vitamins laying on the fold-up table before us, he helped himself, nearly choking on their chalky texture. I was still so annoyed about being late that I offered a ‘serves you right’ look rather than any sympathy or concern.

This is why I don’t like being late: I quickly turn into a sociopath.

It was only as I headed off on the walk to the start line with my wet suit down to my waist, that I started to process how long a mile was. With the River Thames to my right, I trailed behind the TGC’s women and their families processing: a mile was blinking long. I tried to look ahead and spot the start point, but it was too far.

To make matters worse, around 5 minutes into the walk, I realised I had forgotten my goggles and would have to run all the way back to get them. Panicked that I would fall even further behind the TGC girls, I shouted my predicament across to Cath and she shouted back, ‘Don’t worry love, we’ll wait for you!’ There was something reassuring in Cath’s Welsh accent that comforted me as I ran back to our bench in the hot sun.

Cath came to my rescue once again when I finally made it to the start line, and I needed help putting on my wetsuit properly. She did all the rolling of my sleeves, hoisted it onto my sweaty shoulders and advised me to grab any excess wetsuit material from my belly and pull it up to the top for more space in the chest area. Cath’s support was like a mother helping her child into uncomfortable sports gear for the first time.

Cath, a Guinness World Record holder for being the first female to swim a mile inside the Antarctic Polar Circle, had no intention of bombing it down the Thames to the end as you might expect. Like Helen, another TGC swimmer, Cath wanted to take it slow and take in the views from the water. I am usually of this approach, but once I got into the 20-degree water, cupping handfuls of water down the front of my wet suit and ducking into the muddy green water, I was ready to get going. It wasn’t a race, but we were being timed from the moment we stepped onto the light blue platform at the top of the steps into the water until our exit a mile away.

“I’m going to be swimming under water, so I won’t be able to hear you” I said, turning around to Helen, Cath, Jennie and Rachel, who were all chatting happily as they adjusted into rhythm and temperature of the water (Claire was long gone!)

“Ok love, enjoy your swim!” Cath called out.

“You too, see you at the other end” I said, flipping back onto my tummy and setting off with my chosen swim stroke: breaststroke into an underwater glide.  

I’ve got to be honest and say that it is really hard to remember all the details of the first mile so here’s what I do recall:

1. Sighting, a brilliant open water skill I learnt from my swim teacher Naomi, was my top tool. I sighted (picked) buildings, coloured buoys, boats along the river and used them as my ‘I’ve just got to get there’ markers.
2. Dale walked along the whole mile stretch, shouting encouraging sentiments and filming for my mum who was participating in the event via WhatsApp messages and videos at 5 o’clock in the morning in Jamaica (that’s love).
3. I stopped about 5 times to shout, “Where’s the end point?” “Am I nearly finished?” “How much longer?” at Dale, walking along the bank beside me. He hesitated, looked ahead, but like me, he couldn’t see the finish point down the meandering river. He yelled back, “You’ve got about 5 minutes left,” “You’re nearly there!” “You’re so close!” I sensed he didn’t have a clue, but I believed him. I didn’t want the swim to be over, all I wanted to know is how much further I had to go. When you don’t know where the end point is, a mile feels incredibly long!

When I spotted the orange inflatable goal post to the right of the river, I flew into a few bursts of front crawl to get me closer to the finish point quicker. I ran out of steam quickly and returned to my steady breaststroke-glide under water. Between each resurface for air, I could hear Dale shouting more encouragement, loud whooohh’s and repeating “Amazing!” as I headed towards the Henley Swim team clapping on the bank.

After Dale’s shouts, I heard a male voice call out, “Here we go! Come on in!” It was a Henley Swim team member ankle deep in water. Don’t ask me what he looked like, but he waved for me to come in as I waded towards the bank. I don’t know how long he had been standing in the water congratulating swimmers on their return to land, but the clapping and encouragement made me feel incredibly special.

Dale shouted, “Come on in! Whoooooh! Go Abi!”

Filming me as I got back on my feet and wiped the water from my eyes and nose, Dale narrated my arrival like a thoroughly impressed sports commentator: “Look at that; a mile completed! Go Abi!” (that’s support and some).

“Lipstick still intact” my Henley Swim water supporter noted.

I laughed.

I made it.

Dale gave me a big hug before I officially stepped over the finish line where I received my ‘Henley Swim Festival 2022’ medal – the first sports medal I’ve received as an adult. It was official: I had completed my ‘This Girl Can’ culminating challenge and I was smiling as if I had just swum the English Channel. I couldn’t be happier.

Thank you

Thank you to my mum who supported me all the way from Jamaica in the early hours of the morning on 10 July. Thank you for listening to me babble about cold-water swimming, ice baths, cold showers and swimming lessons from Day 1. I wouldn’t be who I am today without your unconditional love, guidance and support. I love you.

Thank you to my dad for disappearing on long swims on holidays, normalising swimming in deep water without fear or concern.

Thank you to Dale, for getting me to Henley, dealing with my irritation at being late, coping with my demands and walking alongside me as I swam in my first ever open water event. Thank you for the constant encouragement and not telling me I still had over half a mile until the finish line.

Thank you to Ekene, my best friend from uni, who came all the way to Henley via public transport to support me. You got there on foot – much respect for your determination to support me on such a hot day.

Thank you to Cath Pendleton for your supportive and motherly presence on my Big Swim. I will never forget your ability to whip my wetsuit on right at the last minute.

Thank you to Becky and Juliet from the Henley Swim team for looking after all the TGC women on this fantastic journey. I will always appreciate this opportunity.

Thank you to my swim teachers: Sakina, Naomi, Chung and Jason from South West Swim. I swim better because of your tips, advice and pointers.

Thank you to my fellow TGC girls: Helen, Claire, Rachel, Jennie and Jill. Jill, I’m sorry you couldn’t swim this year, but let’s do it all over again in 2023 and swim the Henley Mile as a team.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my blogs, giving me feedback and encouragement.

Shout out to Swim Dem Crew and all my swim lesson buddies in North London.

The Second Mile

The second swim went much faster than the first. I knew where I was going, and I didn’t stop other than to defog my goggles. After I got out and received my second medal, the tension created by swimming another mile in skins was released through loud, long guttural groans as I walked back bare-footed in the 28-degree heat. The swim released the warrior within me, leaving me feeling unbelievably powerful.

Without a shadow of doubt, This Girl Can.

[1] Skins: swimming in a conventional swimsuit or trunks.

[2] Henley-on-Thames is about a 1 hour 25-minute drive from London (if everything goes to plan).