One Stroke at a Time: What Swimming Lake Coniston Taught Me About Courage
It starts with daring yourself to show up, not for anyone else, but for you. Even when self doubt is loud and the inner critic whispers that you’re not ready or not fast enough, you show up anyway. Because real courage lies in not denying yourself the chance to shine.
On the 21st of June, I set out to swim the length of Lake Coniston, a 5.25 mile open water swim. I didn’t reach the finish line, but I finished my swim with no regret or disappointment, because I triumphed against the voice that said I couldn’t.
I conquered the doubts that tried to hold me back.
I overcame by swimming through miles, through burning shoulders, and arms that felt heavy like lead. One stroke at a time.
Mile two was where I really had to dig deep. It was the furthest and longest I’d ever swum, and my body was starting to feel the strain.
When it got tough physically and mentally, when I didn’t think I could go further, I leaned on my support: my coach, friends, and family. Their encouragement kept me moving forward. Every stroke I took was a reminder that whilst I was swimming on my own, I wasn’t on this journey by myself.
This swim was bigger than distance.
Not so long ago, I’d only ever officially swum a mile. It took three tries and a successful channel relay to believe I could even do that. I’m not fast, not what most people picture when they think “athlete.” I was once told I was too slow. It embarrassed me at the time, but now it fuels me. Because slow or not, I keep moving forward. And I’ve learned that is what counts.
I was at the start line, surrounded by swimmers, feeling like I didn’t really belong. But as I listened to the conversations around me, I came to realise that everyone felt the same.
When I signed up for the Coniston swim, I didn’t overthink the distance. It just seemed like a challenge worth giving a go. No drama, no fuss just me in the water, stroke after stroke.
This swim reminded me that the swimming community is filled with the kindest people, who remind me that every finish deserves celebration. Despite not crossing the final stretch, I felt just as seen, just as supported, as anyone who did.
Success doesn’t always come with medals or milestones. Sometimes, it’s the courage to show up. The strength to keep going. The grace to honour your own finish whatever that looks like.
Pssst! Go on… give it a go. I dare you.
Jess Cox - Ceredigion Bluetits
