My Place - Harold Holt Pool

My Place – Harold Holt Swim Centre: A Winter Swim Outdoors 

by Daphne Briggs

In deck coat and fur-lined boots, I join the waiting conga line on the footpath. Before me, grey ‘brutalist’ slabs reflect the gloom of a winter’s morning. The car thermometer had warned of this; two degrees Celsius.

At seven am the glass doors slide and the Harold Holt Swim Centre is open. A tide of impatient patrons carries me into the warmth of Reception. The familiar smell of chlorine fills my nose.

The Masters’ squad members continue through to the 50m outdoor pool. These are my tribe. 

Cheerful greetings delay the inevitable, until the clock overrules. I shirk the coat and, stripped to bathers, feel the sting of cold air on exposed skin. In contrast, the pool resembles a bath; steam rising from the twenty-seven degree water. I am compelled to jump in. After walking a few steps, I porpoise and come up stroking; freestyle to warm up – feeling the water, pulling through with each stroke, kicking and turning to breathe. 

There is a short break for notices and instructions from the coach. 

What follows now are lung busting sprints, leg burning kick sets and gruelling endurance work. My shoulders and arms ache, yet I am urged to push harder, swim longer, and kick faster until every ounce of energy is drained from my body. An hour and a half passes before the four kilometre session is over. 

Showered and dressed, our group gathers to refuel and drink coffee. Buoyed by endorphins, we laugh and share our lives. The sun has risen and the pool water glistens like an aquamarine. I inhale deeply. My lungs are heavy but clear. Warmth radiates from inside my body, and a welcome calmness permeates. I am relaxed, happy and ready to face the real world.

(adapted from an article originally published in ‘The Age’ Sunday 5 October 2014)