“A love letter to my humble, local swimming pool – plasters, kids and all”

Writer and swimmer Kerry Law has had fun bathing in rivers and dipping in the sea, but it’s her humble local pool that has done more for her as a swimmer than wild swimming ever has. 

It was New Year’s Day 2020 and I came striding out of the North Sea exhilarated from my cold water swim. “I’m going to do this all the time,” I confidently decided. “Lakes, rivers, the sea… wild swimming is going to be my new thing. I’ll go all the time!” Spoiler alert: I went a grand total of zero times that year.

Firstly, Covid struck and we were all stuck at home. Oddly, I don’t have an expansive lake just behind my house in suburban London and trips to the seaside were illegal. When restrictions slowly eased and everyone was allowed a little more outdoor freedom, the wild swimming boom began. You couldn’t glance across a stretch of water without spotting a neoprene-gloved hand and swim cap making waves. But still, despite my new year intentions, I didn’t jump in after them. 

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Let’s be honest: wild swimming is a faff. Most of us don’t live within easy access of open water, let alone beautiful spots that are safe and legal to swim in. Less than 4% of rivers in England and Wales have a clear right of access, as cited by the Clear Access Clear Waters campaign. There’s also the grim fact that every single English river failed a quality test for pollution in 2020, according to the Environment Agency.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed some truly magical, if rare, times swimming in the wild. Bathing in the River Wye among dragonflies and ducklings comes to mind. I’m a strong advocate for the restorative quality of exercising in nature, and a firm believer in the health benefits of cold water immersion that UK waters so persistently provide, whatever the season. But, as soon as post-lockdown allowed, instead of pursuing my wild swimming crush, I became a member of my humble, local swimming pool.

This no-frills pool, run by social enterprise Better isn’t trendy or ‘magical’, but it gives me just what I need: a place where I can swim an easy 1k during my lunch break, perfect my front crawl, attempt a tumble turn and practise my breaststroke. I’ve also managed to get a bit of ad hoc coaching advice from a friendly lifeguard (my technique must have been painful to watch), and I’ve been inspired by the pensioners powering up and down the lanes with a stamina that puts me to shame. 

It has helped me strengthen my core, in turn improving my yoga practice, and it helps me destress as I lose myself in the meditative repetition of stoke after stroke, lap after lap. Bar the mindfulness, little of this tends to be found during a dip in a watery beauty spot. 

I used to swim at my local pool all the time as a kid. I eagerly collected my distance certificates and was a keen member of the swimming club. But then as an adult, I simply stopped. I don’t know why, but life in general took over and swimming just became something I did on holiday.

I’ve since joined my own children for a splash about in the pool (also known as crawling around the shallow end), but August 2020 was the first time I started swimming regularly again, as an adult, on my own. I wasn’t the only one. A survey in March 2021 found that over a third of adults had taken up a hobby since the pandemic began, with swimming the seventh most popular activity.

Swimming two, sometimes three, times a week has become a core part of my fitness routine. The post-baby impetus to regain my own time has been a big driver, but is nostalgia also playing a part? Is the powerful scent of chlorine taking me back to a simpler time when I was eight years old?  

Dr Sean Gammon, professor at the University of Central Lancashire, released a paper about the relationship between nostalgia and leisure during lockdown. He tells Stylist: “There is little doubt that immersing ourselves in interests and hobbies from our pasts can be very comforting. It can reconnect us to who we were, and who we were with, while also taking us back to an unchanging, stable period. It’s quite helpful in these uncertain times.”

Clinical psychologist Dr Marianne Trent of Good Thinking Psychology believes the physical environment of the pool could be acting as a powerful draw. “Our brain is designed to keep us safe and as such it has the ability to process and retain memories related to safety and threat. 

“Scent can have a very powerful impact on humans because it is supposed to. In this case, recognising the smell of chlorine activates the part of the brain which tells us we are safe and brings back memories from happy times. Our whole body then responds with a visceral sense of feeling calm and soothed.” 

Swimming was on the rise before the pandemic struck and Sport England’s current figures claim 4.7 million people swim at least twice a month, making it the country’s fifth most popular activity. However, lockdown closures and delayed reopenings (remember when drinking in a pub was allowed weeks before swimming in what is essentially a vat of Covid-inactivating chlorine?) mean that many indoor swimming pools could be facing permanent closure. Swim England warns that a decade of underinvestment, on top of pandemic pressures, could result in the loss of 2,000 public swimming pools (around 40%) for good by the end of the decade. We’re now in a ‘use it or lose it’ situation.

So while my head was turned by wild swimming, I’m sticking with my first love, the municipal swimming pool, where I’m in it for the long haul. 

Love swimming? Swim stronger by supplementing your workouts with a Strong Women Training Club bodyweight strength session.

Images: Better.co.uk

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