The Movember Swimmer

Ah, The Swimmer, The Swimmer. In no other situation is satisfaction so thoroughly guaranteed. Intricacies of this monthly outdoor swimming extravaganza are outlined here for the October installment, but basically you meet in north london and get to south london through the power of FEET and swim at four lidos/ponds/lakes en route.

The November installment on Saturday (a year since I first took part in this madness) saw record attendance of 23 lunatics, including FIVE whole women, not to mention some of the usual suspects:

Arch rivals Marcus and Peter try to out-fluoresce one another

 ...and some unusual upper-lip motifs for movember:

"I'm telling you my moustache is right here"

We were blessed with some early morning sun for swim #1 at Hampstead Men's pond, where John celebrated his 50th birthday with a dive into 9 degree waters: 

A quick splash about (and startled expressions from a couple of unacclimatized newcomers), then redonning of clothes and hop over to parliament hill lido - a hallowed place where steel and cold water make each other colder (in a good way):

Back into clothes, scarf down half a banana in the carpark, pile bags into support car (this time kindly driven by Jonathan and Beano the dog thank you very much indeed), run to Primrose Hill, get random lady to take the obligatory group photo...

...share second half of banana with a chap called Martin who sometimes swims at Brockwell, hoof it through Regent's park, Marylebone, Hyde Park. Hello Serpentine!

On arrival I discovered the token tree that usually constitutes my changing room is entirely surrounded by mud, so head up a little set of stone steps that lead nowhere and start changing there. Soon discover the bag already there belongs to a man who has now finished his swim and come back to dress - awkward. We dealt with the situation by having a very pleasant chat about swimming whilst studiously looking in the opposite direction.

Not sure quite why but the Serpentine felt absolutely FREEZING. I hear tell it was 8 degrees, so not exactly warm, but seemed more like 5 degrees to me. The serp club had some races on in the cordoned off part so we were instructed to go Beyond the Buoys - thrilling! Suddenly felt very exposed to the elements and all at sea. We opted for a conservative lap along the buoys and I strategically stuck close to Marcus (who knows those waters) like a pilot fish on a sea turtle, before slithering ashore with all the dignity we could muster amongst the mulch.

The usual battle between icy fingers, damp towel and barely preserved modesty, then onwards and downwards to south london and journey's end - viz my own dear Brockwell lido, though not before we were thoroughly soaked in a deluge from Clapham onwards. Having taken the last leg at a leisurely pace I was even able to put in a canter at the end like an old horse nearing its stable, before a delicious 6 lengths on home surf followed by equally but differently delicious poached oeufs at the lido cafe.

Always rehydrate after a long run

Meanwhile, two of the girls had been mislaid en route, causing organiser Will to prong the eggs and b. with a meditative fork, frowning (see above). Fortunately they eventually materialised (to a resounding cheer from our table), having run all the way to Tooting Bec before discovering that we finish 2 miles north:

And then there were 23 again

They seemed completely unfazed by the detour (whereas Martin, on the right of the above pic, is clearly traumatized by the very idea).

This has since sparked rumours of an "ultra" penta-splash version for the December Swimmer... watch this space...