Tag: cold training

Sea Views

Over the last few weeks, I have been participating in a Wim Hof training course. It provides a non-invasive way to control and perhaps even lessen the symptoms of MS. A key component of the method is exposure to the cold. This can be achieved by taking chilly showers, but I have found a much more enjoyable route to the same end: sea swimming.

So, every couple of days, we rise early and head to the beach. The sun hangs low on the horizon and spreads out an apron of sunlight upon the sea. The silhouettes of intrepid paddle boarders and swimmers dot the waters and, onshore, the newly washed pebbles glisten.

Everywhere I look, there is a magnificent vista. And the only question I ask myself is why I haven’t been doing this before.

Morning sunlight on the sea Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The psychological blocks

When I tell people about my sea swims, they do one of two things: one – look slightly horrified or two – say that they would also love to go. Sadly, they seldom do. And I understand that. For years, my boys all went sailing and paddle boarding in the most inclement weather (my husband once went surfing when there was snow on the beach) and I would stay at home drinking tea and thinking wistfully that it must be wonderful to be out in the ocean.

Forcing ourselves out of our comfort zone is just plain hard. We tell ourselves that we are busy; the weather is not quite warm enough and that changing on a cold beach is a pain (it is). All these are true, but few things of value are gained without inconvenience.

The rewards

For me, the rewards well outweigh a few goosebumps. The days when we swim, I feel the same excitement I had as a child on holiday. Sea swimming is, quite simply, exhilarating. Unlike the pool, there is no danger of being crashed into by inconsiderate swimmers doing diagonal backstroke, or being dive bombed my energetic teens. There is no sting of chlorine or the babble of voices booming around the echo chamber that is the municipal baths. There is only the gentle plash of the waves and the call of the gulls overhead.

Come on in! The water is lovely. Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

For anyone with a disability, swimming is often the only aerobic exercise one can do. However, getting in and out a pool is not easy and asking for the hoist is embarrassing. Then one has to negotiate the slippery floors of changing rooms. Getting in and out the sea is much easier and I have my husband to help get me there and to change afterwards.

Another benefit is that the sea is cold. MS really is not compatible with heat, and my local pool is positively tropical. In the cool of the ocean, I am able to exercise far longer and more easily. The result? I complete my swim energised and fitter – a double win.

Aesthetics

I am a great believer in the healing powers of natural beauty, and I can think of almost nowhere that could compete with the views the sea commands. Looking out to sea, there is the enchanting image of sunlight dancing on water and above skies stretching to eternity. Clouds form and reform in an endless choreography of vapour. On bright, early mornings even the moon is visible – a chalky disc set in the blue.

The shoreline is delightful too. When far enough out, the deep green Downs with their ghostly white faces undulate far above the water. They serve as reminders of the land the sea has given up, but will reclaim again.

And scanning the promenade to the headland of Hastings, there are the pretty gardens, the elegant hotels, the bandstand and the pier.

Eastbourne – early morning Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

A word of warning

The sea is truly sublime – in Burke’s Romantic sense. It evokes feelings of awe, but also of terror. As with all wild places, there is an element of risk that makes it more appealing. The sea may beguile us with its beauty, but we should never underestimate its power. Calm seas may conceal strong currents; waves can catch us unaware; we may not be as strong a swimmer as we think.

Since I can never be certain that my MS won’t suddenly decide to make my legs stop working, I always swim with my husband close by. He is happy to circle me like an amiable shark and I am definitely more confident with him by my side.

Having extolled the virtues of the cold, I should be honest about its downside. Sea swimming is best enjoyed at a leisurely pace. It’s important to let your body acclimatise to the cold without rushing in (especially on hot days). A rash vest provides a little more warmth and a wet suit more still.

It is important to keep swims to a moderate length. Fifteen to twenty minutes is perfect for us. Any longer and we start to really feel cold and it is difficult to warm back up on a beach in the early morning. If you start to feel warm when swimming, it is a danger signal and you must get out immediately. It means that hypothermia has set in. Nature gives no quarter. It is magnificent, yes, but also deadly. It is as well to remember that.

A healthy habit

My morning swims have become a habit now. Though I know there are a few hardy souls who swim all year round, I suspect that come winter I shall return to my exercise bike.

While I can still do it though, I intend to continue as long as possible. The benefits that have accrued are impressive. Swimming in the sea requires all your concentration and thus acts as a sort of meditation. It is exercise, but never monotonous or dull. Each swim will be as different as the ever shifting tides.

A good swim will pretty much ensure a good night’s sleep – a boon for all of us. Studies have shown that cold water swimming can improve mental states and create greater resilience to infection. As a method for improving health, it is difficult to beat.

So I encourage you, while this delightful summer continues, to dig out your swimwear and take the plunge.

Expanding the Possible

I don’t believe in fixed boundaries when it comes to living – only flexible ones. When we are sad or depressed, we bring in those walls as a form of self-protection, though ironically, they simply seal our fate. We need to break down the barriers; free ourselves from our ‘mind-forged manacles’ and embrace the possible so that we can live to our full potential. Does this involve risk? Absolutely. Does it involve discomfort, denial, discipline? Definitely. Is it worth it? Do you need to ask?

At 7.30 am this morning, my husband and I headed off to the beach. It was a pretty day and the sea was calling. We were going for a swim. At such an early hour, there was no concern over social distancing, only that the sea would be on the chilly side. It was. But after a few weeks of cold training, it was perfectly fine. After a few minutes, it was positively pleasant.

The best way to start the day! Image: Jenny Bess on Unsplash

Since the sea is strong, and I am not, my husband circled close by in case I got into difficulties. (When I talk of risk, I mean the small and manageable rather than the fool-hardy kind.) I managed fifteen minutes, which is hardly an Olympic standard, but it is a progression for me.

And this raises a crucially important point: expanding the possible takes time. Our culture is so obsessed with quick results that we often give up before we really begin. If one thing doesn’t work, we try another, forgetting that everything from learning the piano to running a marathon involves dedicated and incremental steps.

Finding balance

Slowing down often, as in the fable of the tortoise and the hare, means reaching our goal faster (see https://whenlifegivesyoulemons.blog/life-in-the-slow-lane/). Taking time means that we will generally be more successful in achieving our wish – no matter how unlikely or impossible it seemed at the outset. I was completely inspired this week by the Swedish photographer and artist Janna Jinton. Her stone balancing is truly breathtaking. I’ll let you see for yourself in the video below.

My husband and I tried this with a few pebbles this morning. We managed three standing upright and were very pleased with ourselves! Even on such a small scale, it was empowering. And whenever we try and succeed in pushing ourselves and our skills a little further, we feed our very souls.

Witnessing the impossible

In order to attempt the seemingly impossible, most of us will need a little prompting from someone who has already blazed the trail. For me, this has been Wim Hof , an extreme athlete and multiple record holder. My husband mentioned his exploits some time ago and I was duly amazed. After a video chat with my Overcoming Multiple Sclerosis friends, his name came up again, and I did some further research. Here are some of the ‘impossible’ things that he has done:

  • Running a half marathon above the Arctic Circle, barefoot only wearing shorts
  • Swimming underneath ice for 66 meters
  • Hanging on one finger at an altitude of 2,000 meters
  • Climbing the highest mountains in the world while wearing only shorts
  • Running a full marathon in the Namib Desert without drinking
  • Standing in a container while covered in ice cubes for extended periods of time
  • Shown scientifically, that the autonomous nervous system related to the innate immune response, can be wilfully influenced, something that was previously unknown to science https://www.wimhofmethod.com/iceman-wim-hof

All of these exploits have been checked and confirmed by the Guinness Book of Records, so I think we can trust them. That said, my mind still reels. I still wanted some visual proof and here it is:

Seeing is believing

These incredible feats were not achieved overnight, but after decades of serious training. When pushing our boundaries – wherever they lie – we need to take tiny steps allowing for rest and recovery in between. If we do not, we risk injury and capitulation.

We also need to enjoy the experience. I love the sea and I love swimming. Putting up with a little cold, therefore, is a small price to pay to experience both.

I also love my daily yoga ritual and look forward to it as one of the first things I do each day. It wasn’t always like this. In the past, I would prevaricate and skip days and forget – even though the yoga itself was always physically healing and relaxing. It took the discipline of doing it daily to break that behaviour.

Don’t stop

Committing to a goal is the first step in achieving it. We are capable of so much more than we imagine. However, there is a significant caveat here. We do not all begin from the same point in terms of age or ability. All we can do is expand our own boundaries millimetre by millimetre in whichever field seems most important to us. I will never run a marathon, nor likely ever run, but I can work on my mobility and general health to optimise it. That is my marathon training.

Importantly, I can never, ever stop. For life to be the amazing, fulfilling adventure that I believe it is meant to be, we must never cease testing and stretching ourselves to expand the possible. We are capable of so much more than we even dream.