If the title of this post doesn’t give you an earworm then I am not entirely sure you’re human, and you should probably avoid daylight, mirrors, wooden stakes and young women with shapely necks. Which will make for a dull eternal life, I imagine.
So… for someone who is supposed to be training to swim 5k fly in 5 weeks and 4 days I’ve been very quiet on posting about training front, haven’t I. I’d like to be able to say that’s because I’ve got a top secret , super-charged training plan that I’ve had to keep under wraps lest it became such a game changer at the Olympics that all the fly swimmers refused to come and stayed home playing ludo with their mummies.
But it’s not. It’s because I haven’t done any training.
‘Aha!’ I hear you cry. Shortly before you wonder ‘Is this the true path to success? And if so why have I been hauling my buns to the pool at unsociable o’clock and pretending that I don’t want butter on my sandwiches?’
Let me answer those questions in turn…
‘Because you understand that if you want to be fitter / swim better / look impressive in sandwich shops you need to put in the work.’
To be fair I understand that too. I wanted to do the work. When I went to see Mark in Chesham and benefitted from his eye-opening coaching I really believed I could (and would) do the work. By applying what he had shown me I doubled my distance over night. But I wasn’t very well then, and I have been even less well since. A thuggish virus kicked around the sink estate that is my lungs for weeks on end, my asthma joined the gang – tooled up and intent on hooliganism, and all manner of stressors I couldn’t control put the boot in and left me having panic attacks that I didn’t even recognise for what they were. Well, you don’t, do you – when you’re one of life’s copers? But my GP, despite looking about 13 years old, did recognise them for what they were and signed me off work on the spot. I love the NHS, and we should all be MUCH angrier about the government selling it off. But that’s another issue for another day.
Anyway, being open about this stuff matters. It’s easy to sweep it under the carpet, and pretend everything is fine, rather than just admit that the wheels are coming off a bit. We all need a bit of help from time to time, and I’ve had a lot of that lately. My dearest friend Sally tells me, in that blunt way that very good friends have, that I am ‘shit at asking for help’. She may be right, she usually is… but I think I’m just rubbish at identifying what help I need. Once I’ve worked that out I think I can ask for it. I’ve learned to ask for it. I had a very difficult time 6 years ago when I learned that and everybody stepped up to the plate. As they have this time. Many of them recognising what help I needed before I even recognised it myself.
I’m not rambling as much as it seems I am, I promise. The point is, I need help if I am going to get to 5k fly and therefore avoid the ordeal of 3 months dry. I’ve had a lot of fun with fly the last month or so, even though I haven’t been training. I had the pleasure of helping Duncan double his distance, of seeing Lynx get to grips with fly, of getting Ruth to bust some serious fly moves having never done it before and of helping a small boy and his mum, who showed a bit of interest when they saw me swimming at Bovey Tracey outdoor pool today. All that was really fun, and I am enjoying what fly I can do. So the help I need is for other people to be around having fun with fly as well – or at the very least just having fun.
So to that ends I invite all and sundry to come and have some fun at the Flyfest. Please. It’ll be for two good causes – firstly to delay the point at which I quit, and that alone might just get me to 5k, and secondly to raise a bit of money.
And there will be cake. Bound to be.
And if you can resist the temptation to come and watch me nearly kill myself then you could always just cut out the plump lady swimmer and make a donation direct. Thank you kindly.