Martyn Brunt on the mental toughness of endurance swimmers

Swimming for 10 hours, with only his thoughts for company, gave Brunty an honest insight into the minds of our 220 community – and how triathlon is all about living in the moment.

One of the many advantages triathlon has over other sports is that it doesn’t give you any time to think. From the moment the person in the canoe blasts their klaxon, all thoughts about bills, mortgages and embarrassing things you did 25 years ago empty from your mind and you become instantly focussed on more pressing concerns. Am I going to get booted in the face at that turn buoy? Is that a pothole? Is that a mile sign or another bloody “caution runners” sign in the distance?

I had time to ponder this recently when I had a crack at a long-distance swim, the “Two Way Windermere”, which involves swimming the full 11-mile length of Lake Windermere, then turning round and swimming straight back again.

This is obviously a substantial physical and logistical challenge that, because of the possibility of my untimely death if it went wrong, I took seriously for once. However, no amount of planning or training could prepare me for spending several hours with only my own thoughts for company. For once, I had an insight into what it must be like to be one of my own readers!

The swim is a solo effort rather than a mass event and starts from Waterhead Pier in Ambleside. I arrived there at 5:30am after a restless night in my campervan feeling like a tinned trout and stood on the deserted shore waiting for someone to show up.

Soon, a speedboat appeared through the mists, armed with my pilot, Dave, and observer, Andy, who were there to guide me down the lake and back, and stop me bumping into ferries, rocks, canoeists and whatever terrible brown clouds of unpleasantness the local water company had dumped in the lake.

One of the many advantages triathlon has over other sports is that it doesn’t give you any time to think.

I handed over my bag of drinks bottles and was given my instructions: stay near the boat, tell us when you want something to drink and if you get into trouble, try not to tip the boat over when we drag you out.

That was pretty much the last human contact I had for the next 10 hours. I only stopped for a quick drink twice at six and then 16 miles, so the rest of the time I had nothing but the voices in my head for company – and it was every bit as grim as you might imagine. Mostly it was a stream of knob gags and insults that my brain constantly thinks up, most of which were rubbish, but some made me laugh, and thus swallow water.

Sometimes I got a song stuck in my head, which isn’t so bad if it’s a song you like, but it almost never is. A special prize goes to my swim coach, Dave, who sent me a message just before I started with a link to the “Crazy Frog” tune in a deliberate attempt to plant that atrocity in my head for the entire swim.

When I finally got back to Ambleside and staggered back out of the water like a knackered puffin, I must have looked deranged because the now busy pier immediately emptied as people moved in the general direction of away, apart from one bloke who, upon learning from Dave how far I’d swum, said to me, “There are ferries you know.”

Anyway, I got it done. It took me 10 hours and 12 minutes to cover the 21-and-a-bit miles, which is sub-30-minute mile pace, and which goes to show how fast I can swim when I want to shut my own brain up. I’ll honestly never complain about a pothole, or a headwind, or a motorbike marshal, or any kind of distraction ever again.

I’d like to finish with a thank you to pilot Dave, observer Andy, the Waterhead Pier chip shop who didn’t bat an eyelid when I strode in still in my wetsuit and demanded a giant chip butty, and to every one of you who sponsored me. Thanks to your generosity, £1,200 has gone to the Cyclists Fighting Cancer charity to help children undergoing, or recovering from, cancer treatment. My lake-deep thanks to you all.

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