London Fields Lido

Dawn across Hackney

On the streets of London there are more clothes everyday. We are heaping layer upon layer until the human form is barely noticeable beneath swathes of man made and natural fibres. We resemble walking laundry piles, insulated from the cold and nearly all other sensory stimulation. Winter is now firmly upon us yet I am unable to break out of my swimming routine. Not that I am trying to escape the thrice weekly dips but I am surprised at how enjoyable I still find the whole ritual considering the subzero temperatures.

Kick start

When I get out of bed I am barely human. My need for coffee renders me Neanderthal until those first sips of black gold slip past my lips and begin to activate my system. As I stand in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil, like the first man yawning at the entrance to his cave, my impaired intelligence makes it possible for me to do all manner of stupid things. Here are just a few I remember:

• After filling the cafetière with hot water, stored the kettle carefully in the fridge
• Opened a fresh bag of coffee and emptied the entire contents into the coffee maker rather than the jar it was meant to go into
• Violently shook up a carton of Soya milk with the lid open
• While holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a roll-on deodorant in the other, ignored the coffee and put the roll-on directly into my mouth

 Let the world burn

I survive these perils and take care as I cycle through the early fog to the watery haven of London Fields Lido. The wintry weather ensures fewer crowds than in the summer months but the water itself is heated year round to a balmy 26°C. The Energy Performance Certificate pinned up in reception gives an indication of how much power is required to achieve this temperature when the air outside is reaching -4°C. There are volcanoes that are more energy efficient. But who cares? The Lido is a miraculous wonderment and I am deeply thankful for it.

The competition

I find an empty cubicle and peel off the upper layers before removing my cycling shoes and letting my bare feet touch the concrete. My body, shocked, wakes up from the ground up. I pad across the poolside area and size up my fellow H2O lovers. How many iron men are there to blight my swim with their surging flipper-assisted power strokes? And how many hardy bikini clad females for me to ponder striking up an awkward pool-end conversation with?

 Beginning of the world

This morning the air temperature was -2°C as I slipped into the water. The steam floating up from the lanes was so thick as to make all other swimmers invisible to me. It felt like the dawn of time and the future lay across a primeval swamp. I fastened my goggles around my head and began the first 50 metres of front crawl. The view beneath the surface was clearer than above and the sight of thrashing legs reminded me that I was not alone. A liquid environment is not one that humans are designed for. Unless highly trained, with patterns of efficient movement deeply etched into the muscle memory, we fight the water and move inelegantly through it. Our hearing, sight and breathing are restricted and there is a lurking fear that you will wind up lifeless on the bottom or come to spurting chlorine into the mouth of the 20 stone man who has been giving you CPR. I will always be more Eddy the Eel than Michael Phelps but with the help of Youtube my technique is improving.

The steaming lanes of the lido

Focusing the mind 

Swimming can be boring. I try to concentrate on my technique and the length number as a form of meditation. It requires discipline not to leave the pool as soon as I have had enough. But I know I will regret getting out early and conversely will always be glad when I stay the course. I felt good after 30 lengths and the thought of a blazing hot shower was impossible to resist. All the layers went back on and as I crunched across the gritty poolside on my way out I silently thanked the lido for offering me the perfect start to the morning. It’s like a return to the womb to regain strength for to tackle each day with vigour.

Later, I sat in the canteen at work eating a hearty cooked breakfast and I reflected on my life this time last year. A pre-work dip in December would have been the furthest thing from my mind but the legacy of my triathlon training is an addiction to this wonderful routine and now I can’t live without it.

If you live near enough to London Fields Lido to go before work, don’t wait until warmer months. Go now. You will not regret it. 

Check back in a couple of weeks and I will bring you a tale of Christmas kite surfing in Egypt. Happy holidays.