Friday, 21 November 2014

8 Bridges....

The pool saga rumbles on, but happily, much more fun things have been happening and  earlier this week I was lucky enough to be accepted onto the 8 Bridges swim. I haven't been sure whether or not to sign up for something so ambitious and I was originally hoping to wait until February to decide once I'd got back to training, but it started to fill up within days of the registration opening, so there was nothing for it but to jump in with both feet. Billed as the world's longest marathon swim, it's a 120 mile 7-stage swim down the Hudson River, starting in the Catskills and finishing at New York harbour's Verrazano Narrows. I'm one of 6 swimmers attempting all 7 stages, along with lots of others doing smaller combinations of stages, so it promises to be a hugely fun and exciting week.

I've had my eye on the 8 Bridges for a couple of years now. Everyone I know who's been on it can't speak highly enough about the swims, the atmosphere and the superb organisation, courtesy of Dave Barra and Rondi Davies - both extraordinary swimmers in their own right. And then there's the leaping. Every year, the swim's Facebook and blog pages fill up with joyous pics of swimmers leaping , hurling themselves off boats with the kind of abandon that you only find among people who love the water. I'm not at all sure that my exuberant leaping skills are anything like up to this standard, but I'm willing to give it a go.

But I'm also drawn to the relentlessness of the challenge; while I've always enjoyed the idea (and reality) of a singular 'big' swim, I love the idea of getting up day after day and doing it all over again. And it's an intriguing training challenge as well as rather intimidating prospect. To be absolutely frank, even with good conditions, favourable winds and all the good luck upon which marathon swimming relies, I'm not convinced that I have all 8 bridges in me. At best, it's at the very edges of my capacities as a swimmer, and if I complete them all, I will have been very lucky indeed. But it's good to try something difficult; if I learned nothing else in 2013 it's that swim failure isn't a disaster, and this time, if I have a bad day and things don't go well, there'll be a chance to muster my resources, recoup and get back out there for more the next day.

So there's heaps of work to be done, and me and the big blue clock have been working hard at getting my fitness back up to the point where I can train consistently and productively. At the moment, I'm doing just an hour a day in the EP mixing up technique work, threshold sessions and longer, steady sets to build endurance, but will start inching that upwards as my fitness returns. If nothing else, you have to love the irony of training for my longest swim to date by going absolutely nowhere for hours. I don't know yet what the limits of the EP are in terms of training and at what point (if any) you simply have to get into a full length pool, but the foreseeable future, the logistics of work and commuting plus the privilege of having the pool, mean that this is an entirely EP-based training programme for now.

If you need me, I'll be in the shed, swimming, and thinking about bridges....all 8 of them.

Friday, 14 November 2014

The pool project III

We've had the pool for a few months now, and it's been something of a mixed bag. On the plus side, when it's all working properly, it's brilliant. It's amazing to be able to just pop down the garden to swim without having to deal with pool hours and unpredictably crowded lanes. And aside from the convenience of it all, my feeling is that it's a very productive training experience. Unlike in a regular swimming pool, 'distance' is a pretty useless metric when you're swimming on the spot, but instead, you have 'pace' plus 'time'. Unlike in a regular pool, you know immediately when your pace is slowing because you start to drift backwards, so it's a fantastic way to acquire an embodied sense of the different pace registers of swimming and to learn to hold those paces consistently.



Combined with the big blue clock, the predictable pacing of the pool can be structured around time intervals - for example, into ladder or pyramid sessions. If you build in a 10 sec rest between intervals, you have just enough time to switch the pace up or down a notch before starting again. I don't know how well the pace per minute readings on the pace clock correlate to actual open water swimming, but this doesn't really matter; the pace meter only needs to be internally consistent. I also combine these sessions with longer sets of steady swimming, usually in half hour chunks, after which the motor switches itself off. The lack of turns and glides at the pool ends means that it's a pretty consistent workout, and I find it very soothing and meditative to be in there with no distractions. So far, so delighted.

But sadly, the pool also sprang another leak a few weeks ago - this time on the wall of the liner and without any prior injury or knock. This is the third leak in three months, and unlike the other two which were slow dribbles, this one was quickly unmanageable, and within 2 hours, we'd used all of our towels and we were desperately mopping and stuffing duvets and sleeping bags around the edge to try and control the flow while we frantically tumble dried the towels. After a few hours, we gave up and emptied the pool using a sump pump we had bought after the last leak. I'm just grateful that we were there when it happened because it would have caused an enormous amount of expensive damage if left unchecked.

The pool company came to repair the leak a few days later, but after three leaks in three months, we no longer consider the integrity of the liner to be intact and want to have it replaced. We're nervous even to go away in case it goes again. Unfortunately, the pool company refuse to consider paying for a new liner, even though they offered us a 1 year guarantee for parts when we bought the second hand pool off them. We know that the liner was kept in storage in ways that are directly in contravention of Endless Pool's guidelines (it should be stored clean and dry, while ours arrived from storage dirty and with puddles of water sloshing about), although the pool company insist that this could not have damaged it. In a way, it doesn't really matter what's caused it; the fact is, as far as we're concerned, it's no longer viable. Endless Pool sold us a new one at a discounted rate, but the pool company are now refusing to even quote for the cost of dismantling the pool, replacing the liner and reinstating it. Because regional agent companies have a monopoly over a given area, we are not allowed to simply go to another EP agent company, and I'm now planning to petition Endless Pools to hopefully find a way around this impasse. It's all very frustrating and disappointing.

So this is where we are at the moment. The new liner won't arrive until around Christmas time, so the replacement work won't be possible until the new year. So for now, we've bought a repair kit just in case, and are keeping the pump to hand in. It remains to be seen who ends up doing the work; all I know is that it's going to cost us a lot of money.

So what have I learned so far? Having a pool is a fabulous, unimaginable luxury that is a dream for training. On this front, I have no regrets at all and it is an enormous privilege to be able to have one. But if I were to do this over again, and with all the benefit of hindsight, I would (a) buy a new liner from the outset; and (b) listen more carefully to the warning signs that were there in my early interactions with the local agent company and not allow myself to become such a hostage to fortune. I'm sure it will all be resolved eventually... hopefully before the next leak springs.

And in the mean time, me and the big blue clock will keep working away. And more importantly, I'm hoping I'll have an announcement soon about plans for next year.

Saturday, 11 October 2014

The things we don't discuss II ....

Over a year ago, I wrote a post called "The things we don't discuss...", where I talked about the ways in which menstruation is largely treated as unspeakable within swimming (and elsewhere), with the exception of whispered conversations between women about how to keep all evidence of menstruation hidden. This post follows up that earlier one by focusing on a second unmentionable - the menopause. Unlike periods, the menopause is quite commonly discussed in everyday society, although in very limited ways. It exists in popular discourse as the end to a woman's reproductive potential; the threatened end point of the presumed have-it-all postponement of reproduction. It's also commonly caricatured via common symptoms such as hot flushes, and women are exhorted to turn to hormonal therapies to keep them looking and feeling young (although we're also supposed to also negotiate the unknown risks of taking those hormones). It is widely represented in popular media, medicine etc as a disaster for women - the end of reproduction, and of desirable womanliness; it tends to be medicated as an illness, rather than as a natural part of a woman's life cycle.

In swimming, I've heard very little about the menopause. This in part reflects the relatively limited numbers of menopausal and post-menopausal women in the sport, but also the silence expected both within and outside of swimming about all things menstruation-related. When it is mentioned, comments usually refer to either (a) potential freedom from menstruation and its management and concealment; and (b) the imagined warming effects of hot flushes on cold tolerance. This latter in particular is misguided, since hot flushes are unpredictable momentary incidences rather than a consistent increase in core temperature. Furthermore, while medical science seems unsure of the precise mechanism, they are generally agreed to be a temporary disruption to thermoregulatory systems caused by falling oestrogen levels. As I head determinedly into the menopause now, one consequence of this that I have noticed is the increasing unpredictability of my response to water temps. This has made it hard to judge or predict my condition in the water, and I have had several experiences recently of suddenly becoming extremely cold at temps that have never been a problem for me in the past. The suddenness of the cold is also at odds with the much steadier fall in perceived body temperatures I have previously experienced. I don't know, of course, if my core body temperature is falling or whether I'm just 'feeling the cold', but it seems important to err on the side of caution, especially since I now do most of my outdoor swimming alone.

The many popular texts on managing the menopause love to advise women to swim - good for the joints, keeps your weight down, relieves stress, blah, blah, blah. This is all basic lifestyle advice - well-meaning, but rather bland, generic and presumptive. But I haven't been able to find much on the menopause and the more extreme end of endurance sport, except for the a few rather patronising news articles about older female athletes, the tone of which is primarily one of surprise that women don't sit down and start knitting as soon as they stop menstruating.

So I'm not sure yet what difference the menopause makes - maybe not much, maybe quite a lot. We'll see, but it is a conversation that female swimmers could usefully have with each other and in public settings. These bodies of ours are nothing to be ashamed of. As with menstruation, it would also be interesting to think about what difference swimming makes to the menopause as a process and experience. I wrote before that past long swims have had a profoundly positive effect on my hormone regulation for months post-swim, so there's no reason to think that it wouldn't also affect the menopause, although whether positively or negatively remains to be seen. I'm also exploring what changing nutritional and recovery needs I might need to address; I don't know whether it's ageing generally, or the menopause specifically, but I'm certainly noticing a slower recovery time these days.

It would be great to hear about other women's experiences. Everyone's body is different and there is no single truth to any of these experiences, but if we don't talk about it, we'll never learn more.

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

The pool project II ....

In my last post about the pool, we had just accepted the inevitable and decided to take up the wooden floor of the summerhouse and have a new concrete pad laid rather than making do with the uneven (and very waterlogged) one we discovered under the wooden floor.

Well....this turned out to be a complete success, and we soon had a lovely flat floor to work with.


I then spent a VERY long weekend applying coat after coat of marine varnish to the entire inside to protect against the moisture....and which also ended up giving a lovely rich tone to the previously untreated wood. And finally, we laid a vinyl floor, the electrician put in lights and sockets and we were ready for the pool.

 

The installation team put up the metal frame and liner easily, even though it's a bit of a squeeze in there, then started to build the panelling around the edges. We had asked for this so that we could include a layer of insulation between the liner and the panels to maximise heat retention. 



The propulsion and filter units were fitted and we could finally start filling the pool while the rest of the work continued. All very exciting.


Frustratingly, this is where we hit a series of problems - not least the spectacular inefficiency and poor communication skills of the company fitting the pool. Endless Pools have regional agents who handle sales in a given area. Consequently, this agent company had a monopoly but offered a service that was spectacularly poor. It's not worth going into the details, but this included having given my electrician the completely wrong details and wiring diagram for the electrics requiring significant remedial work (and expense), and the team rarely worked more than a four hour day, dragging the job out over nearly two weeks. But 'the box' was where they really excelled themselves. Our purchase invoice included a "bespoke soundproof box"  - the motor for the propulsion unit is quite noisy and we don't want to disturb the neighbours. But what we got was a plastic storage box from Argos, lined with insulating foam to almost no useful effect.


This remains a work in progress. We have abandoned the pool company as a lost cause and are bringing in a professional soundproofing company to build a soundproof fence around it to deflect the sound away from the nearest neighbours. To be honest, it's not that noisy and no-one's complained, but we want to do everything we can. 

But the good news is that finally, after a frustrating couple of weeks, our pool was finally up and running. And it's just wonderful. As you can see, it pretty much fills the room - there's just enough space to run up and down the edges with a mop to wipe up the splashes - but it's quick and easy to use and it is an unimaginable luxury to be able to swim every day.  We keep it fairly cool - around 18 / 19 degrees - so it's perfect for OW training.



I'm still building up after my year of dealing with my shoulder, but am gradually working out how to train in this rather extraordinary environment. Expecting it to be boring, I tried listening to music while swimming, but I found it completely distracting and quickly realised that this kind of swimming is not simply a more impoverished version of a full sized pool, but is actually a lot closer to the open water - you just swim and swim. It's incredibly relaxing and the time passes in that rather fluid way that open water time passes. It's really very soothing and meditative. I'm still only swimming for relatively short periods (up to an hour), but the time flies. I just bought a pace clock so that I can introduce intervals into the mix, and I think that with some focus, there's no reason why the bulk of my training, especially in winter, can't be done in here. Time will tell. But for now, with a month of regular swimming already under my belt, I feel fitter and stronger for swimming than I have for over a year, my shoulder feels stable and pain free, and I'm starting to feel confident enough to make some plans...

Monday, 7 July 2014

Tour de France, Yorkshire style...




If we weren't sure about our decision to move to Yorkshire before this weekend, then we are certainly sure now. This weekend, the Grand Depart of the Tour de France came to Yorkshire, with the riders sweeping within easy striking distance of our new house on both days. I've always had a soft spot for the Tour, and we always follow it on TV every year, in spite of the twin stains on the event of the continued absence of a women's Tour, and the sport's well-established history of cheating. But to say that Yorkshire was excited about the Tour would be something of an understatement and I have never seen an event so widely and wholeheartedly embraced by an entire region, which by race-weekend was festooned with yellow bikes, bunting and chalked messages. 



Already impossibly excited at the prospect of seeing the Tour go by, the weekend was made even more special by the arrival of our lovely Californian friends, Scott, Debbie and Quinn, and by Friday evening, we had our plan of action drawn up and ready to go.



On Saturday, the Tour passed along the A65, just a five minute walk from the house, so we installed ourselves on the roadside with a clear view down the hill, as well as of a couple of approaching bends in the further distance. The caravan came through first, followed by dribbles of team cars, sponsor vehicles and UK and French police. Excitement mounted as helicopters began to pass overhead, and then the red lead cars arrived, closely followed by a breakaway group of three - an advanced party to whet our appetites:


Then just a couple of minutes behind, in the distance came the media helicopter hovering over the approaching peleton - a lithe snake of tightly packed cyclists.


And then, in a flash of colours, the mass of riders flew through:


It is hard to describe what it is like to be so close to such a tightly packed group of nearly 200 speeding cyclists - there is a deep buzz of tyres on tarmac, the whistling of the air moving around them, and the stunning sight of the bright colours and rapid movements across your field of vision. And then there's the atmosphere - wildly electric, with the air full of whoops, cheers and delighted laughter. It's over almost as soon as it starts, but we were buzzing for ages afterwards with the excitement. 

After a quick lunch at home, we walked the three miles into Skipton to watch the finish of the stage on the big screens they'd set up there, joining thousands of people in a collective groan of disappointment as Cavendish hit the tarmac, shoulder first, just hundreds of metres before the finish. We ate ice-cream in the sunshine, bought some Tour de France swag and then walked back in the sunshine to the house, our lust for the Tour temporarily sated. 

On Day 2, we walked the 2 miles to Bolton Bridge and managed to find the perfect spot on the inside of a sharp left hand bend, where we hoped to catch the riders moving slightly more slowly. The crowds were much bigger than our previous day's spot, but the atmosphere was superb as everyone waited in the intermittent sunshine. 

It was the same long build-up as the previous day - the caravan, then the sponsor and team cars, then passing helicopters, police motorcycles....and then the red cars followed by a small breakaway of 7 riders, with the peleton following 3 minutes behind. And the second time was easily just as exciting as the first...I even managed to snap a shot of the yellow jersey worn by the previous day's winner, Kittel.


Our hope that they might be slower on a sharp bend proved to be foolish, but it was all the more amazing for that - such speed, so close together. 

We had a post-race picnic in a nearby park and then walked back home across the fields between Bolton Bridge and our house in Draughton before all flopping down in front of the TV to watch the Tour finish and then the men's Wimbledon final. I don't watch a huge amount of sport, either live or on TV, but this was a hugely fun day very well spent with some of my very favourite people. A great weekend. 










Tuesday, 1 July 2014

Olympic swimming...

I've been having a couple of days in London. Unhappily, I travelled to Essex at the beginning of the week to join family members to say a very sad farewell to the wonderful Brenda, who lived a very long and happy life, and was both loving and loved. And after some family time, I decided to stay in London rather than go back up to Leeds since I had a work meeting at the LSE later in the week. And so I found myself in Stratford - site of the 2012 London Olympics (and a former stomping ground of Peter and I from our East London days). And so what could I do but go for a swim at the Aquatic Centre?

I have always had a lot of reservations about the London Olympics - the militarisation of the whole area, restriction of the freedoms of speech and movement, the bewildering amount of money the project went over budget, the crass commercialisation and the flag-waving nationalism all turned my stomach, even at the same time as I knew that I would enjoy the spectacle of sport on display. My concerns weren't allayed when I arrived in Stratford (my first visit since before the Olympics) and while looking for my hotel, I got accidentally channelled into the Westfield Centre - a massive shopping mall that you have to pass through in order to get to the Olympic park and which is also directly connected to the Tube station. Once in, I couldn't find my way out. It was as if they had made the whole of Stratford indoors and then filled it with a fiendish whirlwind of commerce, noise and bright lights. I ended up begging a man selling fruit smoothies from a walkway stand to tell me where "outside" was. I know that Westfield has brought a lot of jobs to an area greatly in need of them, but it's hard to believe that this grizzly monstrosity is the answer.

So, not a good start. But the next morning, I headed out for the Olympic park. It was a beautiful, blue-skied morning, and the aquatic centre is the first structure you come to; it's absolutely stunning - all sweeping scoops, dips, curves and waves.



And you get the same effect in the light and airy inside:



The competition pool is 3m deep and 10 lanes wide, giving a luxurious feeling of space; this was greatly enhanced by the fact that there was hardly anyone there and for half an hour, I had a lane to myself! It's nice and cool, and isn't heavily chlorinated, so is a delight to swim in. While most pools only have viewing galleries on one side, the rows of seating on both sides gives the pool a stadium feel that is compounded by its recent Olympic origins. In the momentary absence of other swimmers to join my clockwise lane circuit, I treated myself to a sprint down the black line to the roar of the crowds as I raced to victory - one of Olympic history's big upsets as the middle aged woman with the duff shoulder snatches gold. 

Unfortunately, after half an hour and several golds, I was tapped on the head by a uniformed staff member and told that they were closing all but lanes 1-4 because they were going to be doing some filming. I moved over and 5 of us swam up and down the lane perfectly amicably, but it was still slightly annoying because the filming didn't actually start until over 45 minutes later. I felt like we could all have been left to enjoy our luxuriously solitary swimming a bit longer. 

But that aside, it was a fantastic experience. The pool and changing areas are roomy and spotlessly clean, and the facility is priced equivalently to the other pools in the London boroughs; my off-peak ticket cost £3.50. The training pools were packed with children having swimming lessons, and divers were being coached while doing improbable things off high boards. It had a sense of legacy that much of the remainder of the Olympics infrastructure doesn't at the moment, which was nice to see. I hope that it continues to be a success and to be accessible to as many local people as possible, if only to demonstrate the palpable demand for more public pools at a time when public leisure services are being brutalised. 

Sunday, 29 June 2014

The pool project...

We finally moved into our new house after an intense couple of months of decorating (by us) and building work (by people with skills..ie. not us). It's lovely, and we're very happy with our new life at the foot of the Yorkshire Dales - hills, sheep, tweeting birds. All the good stuff, with none of the wildly partying students we've been living alongside for the last 10 months. Plus, we're only 65 miles away from the Lake District, with all the swimming possibilities you could ever ask for.

But one consequence of moving out here is that we've added almost 2 hours a day of commuting to our days at the office, which makes it much more difficult to make lane-swimming pool sessions either at the university pool or at the local sports centre. But....the new house has a summerhouse in the garden that used to be an office space for the previous owners, and we are hoping that this will provide the answer.



Originally, I'd hoped to put in a regular Endless Pool, but the costs were prohibitive for us. However, the space is just big enough to house a Fastlane Pool, which has a slightly larger footprint but is less expensive, since it is basically a big bag of water in a frame with a Fastlane propulsion unit at one end. So this is what we've decided to go for. 


I can't quite believe that we're doing this, and it seems like an impossible luxury to have a training pool at home. But we managed to get hold of a pool second hand, complete with all the propulsion and heating units, and this now in storage, waiting until we're ready for installation. So far so good.

After knocking out the internal walls to the office space, our plan was to cut out the footprint of the pool so that it could stand on the concrete pad underneath, leaving the surrounding wood floor intact. Simple. But things didn't quite go to plan, and when we cut away the floor, we discovered large pools of standing water and a considerable amount of rot in the wooden floor beams. In short, the structure has been quite shoddily laid and has inadequate protection against rain water, which has been seeping underneath. Plus, the concrete pad underneath is far from level, so probably couldn't do the job anyway. 



Back to the drawing board. Plan B...that probably should have been Plan A in the first place... is now to take up the entire wooden floor, line it and lay a new concrete pad on top to bring it up to the original floor level. And then our clever builder has come up with a remedial action plan to mitigate the seepage problem involving sills and channels around the outside of the structure. There's still lots of other work to do - it involves quite a lot of electrical work to make the building safe and with a sufficient supply, and we need to marine varnish the entire inside to protect the wood from the moisture from the pool. But I feel like we're making progress.

So in spite of the set-back, we're still hopeful that our Endless Pool project won't become an endless pool project.