In the swim
The ice-cream headache that hits me is more of a Magnum than a soft serve. After 90 seconds or so the shaft of pain at the base of my brain drifts away, as do I. It's sink or swim at this point as mind battles body in a persuasive attempt to convince me that ocean swimming in winter is a bright idea. Life in a bubble is brilliant for I am immersed in thousands of them. Effervescent handfuls of salty spume dart past my goggles with every stroke of freestyle. I feel fast and buoyant, channel thoughts of Thorpedo and kick on. But it doesn't last. Ears give in to a relentless tide, my breathing begins to labour and my nose is subjected to an epic irrigated event. Feeling more like a stone fish than porpoise I persevere for there is too much stimulation coursing through my veins. Noradrenaline and cortisol fuel a fight or flight response. Stop now and I'll sink. Each gulp of air is met by a blinding blast of morning sunshine which cuts through my smeared goggles. The sky...