The Way that Water Holds Us

I have never quite understood why swimming affects me so profoundly. I am not a Piscean. I don’t yearn to live on a boat. And yet the moment I slide beneath the surface of a pool, something inside me exhales.

My first relationship with water began in childhood — a life spent at the swimming pool, ploughing up and down lanes while being yelled at to swim faster (something I never quite understood, since in my opinion I was already swimming for my life). Galas and races, lengths and awards, bronze and silver and gold, life-saving skills notched up over years of rigorous chlorinated routine. Then, as teenagers tend to do, I chose a social life over the smell of chlorine lingering on my skin. Damp hair tied into imperfect knots. Begone.

Today, that narrative spins another story entirely. The quiet luxury of an hour that belongs entirely to myself is my version of heaven. As I dip into the water, I feel immediately revived. I don’t mind the sharp cold.  The refresh is breathtaking, in every sense.

The noise softens. Problems untangle themselves somewhere between lengths twelve and twenty-two. And life, however complicated it felt dressed and upright,  suddenly becomes manageable in goggles and chlorine.

Swimming, unlike almost every other form of exercise, asks for complete surrender. You cannot scroll while doing it. You cannot answer emails. You cannot multitask. The water demands your full attention, which perhaps explains why it feels less like fitness and more like meditation.

Why the Body Loves it

And the body loves it too. Swimming uses far more muscles than walking, toning the arms, legs, core and back simultaneously — without punishing the joints. It is strength without aggression. Movement without impact. Exercise that feels oddly graceful rather than punishing.

By midlife, many women begin to notice that the workouts they once relied upon suddenly feel punishing rather than energising. High-impact exercise can elevate cortisol, inflame joints, disrupt sleep and leave the body depleted rather than restored. Swimming offers something entirely different.

Water supports the body while simultaneously strengthening it, allowing muscles to work deeply without placing stress on joints, hips or the spine. It tones quietly but effectively — arms, core, back, glutes and legs all engaged at once — yet leaves behind none of the jarring impact that can accompany running or repetitive cardio.

And perhaps more importantly, swimming regulates the nervous system in a way few exercises do. The rhythmic breathing, the repetitive movement, the immersion in water — it has an almost meditative effect on the body, lowering stress levels and helping calm the cortisol spikes that so many women in midlife quietly battle through chronic stress, hormonal fluctuations and mental overload. There is a reason many swimmers describe the pool as therapy.

It becomes less exercise and more exhale

There is also something deeply luxurious about swimming in the evening. Unlike late gym sessions that can leave the body overstimulated, swimming has a remarkable ability to soften the nervous system before sleep. Body temperature gently rises and cools again afterwards, helping signal rest to the brain, while the repetitive rhythm of lengths clears the mental clutter accumulated throughout the day. It becomes less exercise and more exhale.

Recently, my children bought me underwater earphones for my birthday, so I can listen to music while swimming. The first time Coldplay drifted through the water mid-length, I nearly wept. Not from emotion exactly — though perhaps a little of that too — but from the strange beauty of feeling entirely suspended from the world for a few fleeting moments.

The Beauty Ritual of a Swimmer

Of course, no relationship with swimming is entirely glamorous. Chlorine can be wonderfully cleansing for the mind and considerably less kind to hair and skin. Over time, regular swimmers often notice dryness, sensitivity and brittle hair if they are not careful. But like most things in midlife, it is less about avoidance and more about ritual.

• Wet your hair thoroughly before entering the pool.  It helps prevent the hair absorbing excess chlorine
• Apply a leave-in conditioner or protective hair oil to the ends to create a barrier
• A good swim cap is less about athleticism and more about preservation
• Shower immediately afterwards so chlorine doesn’t linger on skin
• Rich body creams and ceramide-based skincare replenish moisture levels beautifully
• A weekly clarifying shampoo removes chlorine build-up; follow with a nourishing mask to restore softness

Swimming, I have discovered, requires its own beauty rhythm — one rooted less in perfection and more in care.

And maybe that is why so many of us return to swimming in midlife. Not to become smaller. Not to chase exhaustion. But because the water gives us something back. Some of my clearest thinking happens between lengths. Problems that feel impossible on land somehow loosen in water. And for one quiet hour, the world with all its weight simply cannot reach you.

This May, I am swimming 10 kilometres in aid of Cancer Research UK .

The water has given me so much, and this feels like the most natural way to give something back. If you’d like to support the swim, details are in my bio.