I am not what you might call sylph like. So, I may not be built to run, or high jump or long jump or skip or,or...

But I can swim - and I love it. I used to swim for my city and was in the water three times a day on some occasions. I got a free pass to the pool (and on the bus to get there). I won races, got awards and took survival courses.

When I started I loved the sport - I was good at it - the only sport I had the strength and stamina to achieve in and I got immense satisfaction from beating others of my age.

The health benefits were brilliant - I could eat well and stay relatively slim, my skin benefited from constant cleaning, my hair was always washed (when it was not wet) and I felt really fit and toned.

When I started I surprised myself at how easily I could swim. While others were practicing getting across one width of the pool I was doing lengths. I loved the pull through the water and the light playing under the surface. I liked the wake you made as you went fast and used the wake to breathe. I never intended to be a good swimmer and was delighted that here, finally , was a sport I could actually do.

I guess I was a bit of a show off really. I spent every moment I could in the water or under it. I got fit, kept lean and strong and generally liked everything about the pool. The smell of chlorine, goggles, Speedo costumes that held everything in in all the right places - boys in tight trunks- their physiques, what was there not to like?

Then, gradually, as I became a 'serious' club swimmer, the magic went. I got a coach and found myself swimming 3 nights a week after school, early mornings and twice weekly club nights. Galas were coach journeys away with people I knew only vaguely and who had no other interest in life other than swimming. Swimming became a job and a chore rather than something I enjoyed.

If I missed a training session my coach wanted to know where I had been, who I went out with, what I ate, the whole thing got ridiculous.
What was more - I got beaten, first only now and again but then by everyone- it seemed I had peaked. Whatever I did, I was built to go so fast and no more. I got thirds, seconds, a place in the relay squad (not much to go on if you like a bit of glory). Swimming lost its lustre and became boring. Up and down, up and down.

Then, blessedly, came O levels (GCSEs now) and a choice was made - largely by my parents but surprisingly willingly by me. Swimming took a back seat in favour of study

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