Completing a six-mile open water swim in London’s iconic Serpentine lake as part of the Super Six Swim Serpentine 2024 event was no mean feat, but raising over £700 for Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide – the charity I’ve volunteered for since 2017 – made every stroke worthwhile. From dodging equipment malfunctions to battling cold water and stubborn breakfast, this swim was as much about endurance as it was about resilience and purpose.

Prepare for the Unexpected

I’ll be honest, before the swim, I had never tackled that sort of distance in open water. Yes, I’d practiced in a pool and a lake, but my maximum training duration was only two hours. Nothing could prepare me for the reality of swimming without a wetsuit for hours on end.

Image credit: Haley Phelps on Unsplash

Registration Issues
I had to swim under someone else’s name due to an event registration mix-up. Not exactly how I envisioned my debut as an “endurance” swimmer.

It wasn’t the smartest move, and I wasn’t even sure I’d get away with it, but I had no choice; I would have been so disappointed if I hadn’t been able to take part.

The day of the event, I finally received my event pack under my assumed name — complete with my Swim Serpentine hat and timing chip — at midday, just hours before I had to leave for London. Talk about cutting it fine!

Travel Troubles

Travelling from my home in Hampshire to London turned out to be another obstacle course.

Delayed Train
My train was delayed, and naturally, it had to be the only train delayed that evening. 

Isolation
After finally arriving in London, I queued at the wrong hotel for what felt like an eternity.

By the time I checked into my room, it was after 11pm. The basement-level room meant no phone reception or Wi-Fi, which left me feeling quite isolated. Despite this, I slept like a log.

Image credit: Dmitry Ganin on Unsplash

Morning Mayhem

On the morning of the swim, I set my phone alarm for 6:30am, but when it went off, I realised I’d forgotten to charge it overnight as usual. Lucky for me, it hadn’t run out during the night despite being an older model that doesn’t hold its charge very well.

Wot No Breakfast
To make matters worse, there was no kettle in my room, so I couldn’t make a hot drink or the instant porridge I’d brought. Just what I needed before a big swim — a rumbling stomach and annoyance at the hotel’s lack of facilities!

I could feel a TripAdvisor review/rant coming on, only to realise there were communal tea and coffee-making facilities after all, but by then it was too late to make use of them. Arghhhh!

Image credit: Julien I on Unsplash

Navigating to the Event

In a mild panic about finding my way to the Serpentine (I can read maps but have no sense of direction), I was relieved to find two other participants heading the same way. Safety in numbers, right?

Luckily, my new acquaintances, Hilary and Colin, were very friendly and chatting away to them calmed my nerves a bit.

The calm before the storm (and I forgot my sunglasses!)

The Start: A Nervous Entry

As we approached the start line for 9.00am, my Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide Super Six teammate had a moment of doubt, then exclaimed, “Why aren’t there any other people with pink hats on?” (in a sea of red hats).

Then we heard over the tannoy, “Super Sixers, going in 30, 29, 28, 27…!” Talk about pressure! We raced to the start, hurriedly giving up our snacks to the marshals for later.

I wasn’t quite so keen to get started as this lot!

Prior to getting changed and lining up at the start line, I hastily devoured the emergency £1 cherry Bakewell flapjack I’d bought from my local Londis shop the day before and treated myself to a decaf coffee from an event vendor. So, I did get some breakfast after all. 

The breakfast of champions (said no endurance swimmer, ever…)

Unfortunately, as I started swimming, the flapjack and coffee sloshed around in my stomach a little too much and took some time to digest (followed by a lot of burping), leaving me feeling quite uncomfortable for some time.

The First Mile and Beyond

I completed the first mile loop (of six) and almost swam to the finish before being told by a safety official in a canoe that I was heading the wrong way. Who knew swimming could be so disorientating?

Brain Issues
My brain wobbled throughout the swim, and I regularly questioned my decision to swim without a wetsuit.

The water temperature was 15.9 degrees — about 4 degrees cooler than I was used to from my lake swimming training at Ellingham lake the New Forest.

However, I had grown to embrace lake swimming over the summer, especially (and surprisingly) sans wetsuit. I have my endurance swimmer “friends” to thank for that particular recommendation!

The fabulous Ellingham lake in the New Forest, where I did my open water training

Midway Crisis

At one point, I panicked, thinking the timing chip attached to my ankle was falling off. I kept checking it obsessively, then the thought vanished from my mind. Another brain wobble. 

Then, I developed “claw hand,” where the cold (I now realise) made it impossible to put my fingers together to form a paddle shape on my right hand.

It felt like I was trying to swim with a lobster claw and was genuinely scary – my fingers felt paralysed. I have since learnt that this is a frequent issue for cold water swimmers. Who knew?

Battling the Elements

Throughout the swim, I battled the cold, got bashed by fellow swimmers, and had to have a stern word with myself to keep going.

Equipment Challenges
I had bought new mask-style goggles that started to leak water during mile three.

As I got deeper into the swim, they became harder to adjust and I struggled to keep my head above water as I got more tired.

I ended up doing more breaststroke than I’d have liked as I didn’t want an eyeful of lake water every time I tilted my head doing front crawl. 

Sunburn and Chafing
To top it all off, I didn’t think to put on sun cream or anti-chafing cream. I thought that kind of malarkey was reserved for “proper” endurance swimmers.

I ended up with a white cross on my back from my swimsuit and the sun and chafed shoulders and underarms. Great look, Ellie!

Who knew swimming could come with a side of sunburn? I did enjoy showing everyone my “war wounds” for some days after, though, I have to admit.

The Finish Line

I finally completed the race in 5 hours and 13 minutes, non-stop. I won’t say the time flew, but it certainly didn’t drag, either.

Exiting the water onto a very wobbly pontoon, I grabbed anything I could for support, including a nearby, unsuspecting marshal. 

Another marshal handed me back my untouched Londis 69p energy drink and said, “You didn’t even stop once!”

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had to swim without refuelling, but I just wanted to plough on and get through the swim. 

Brain Thaw
It took several minutes for my brain to return to “normal,” and I was quickly handed a can of warm Coke (accompanied by a swarm of wasps) by the Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide Fundraising Manager.

Apparently, Coke is supposed to kill any bacteria you may have ingested from the lake. Who knows if it worked or not, but I was surprised that the water tasted so nice even if it was an interesting shade of khaki green. 

Looking out over the course we’d just completed with my Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide Super Six teammate and Fundraising Manager

The Triumph of Finishing

Despite the chaos, once I had completed the swim, I felt truly amazing, a high which lasted for three days straight. My happy hormones were working overtime.

I was incredibly proud to earn my Super Six medal. Between us, team Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide raised a whopping £5,500 in total too.

Proudly showing off Super Six medal!

The Final Stretch

Tube Issues
After saying my goodbyes around 3:00 pm, I headed towards Knightsbridge tube station to get to Waterloo for my train home.

Knightsbridge tube station
Image credit: Wikipedia

When I got there, I found the station closed, forcing me to trek almost a mile to South Kensington tube station, which was absolutely heaving with people.

I must have looked quite the spectacle in my Dry Robe and woolly hat, strolling past all the posh shops on my way there – but I was riding such a high and proudly wearing my medal, I couldn’t have cared less. (It’s likely my brain was still in the process of thawing out too).

Image credit: Etsy

Homeward Bound at Last!
I felt like I was going to pass out on the packed tube when I finally got on it, but there was no space to de-robe (quite literally).

On arrival at Waterloo, I realised my train was just about to depart. Somehow, I found the energy to sprint for it up the escalator, feeling quite light-headed in the process.

I made it on board just as the whistle blew! A chaotic end to a chaotic, but rewarding day; one that I hope to remember for a very long time.

Image credit: Max Van Den Oetelaar on Unsplash

Have you ever tackled a challenge that felt impossible? If I can swim six miles in open water without a wetsuit, I promise you can conquer your own fears. Would I do it again? Maybe next time somewhere hot with crystal clear water…

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By the way, if you’re looking for peer support for you or someone else following bereavement by suicide, Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide run in-person and online groups throughout the UK along with email and phone support.