100 Swims, Again: Familiar Water, a Different Year
I’ve now completed 100 winter swims in the Amsterdam canals three times.
The first time felt transformative.
The second time felt revealing.
The third time, this time, for the first 100 days of 2025, it felt strangely familiar.
Nothing had really changed. And yet, everything had!
The water felt exactly the same
Cold water has a very good memory. The shock, the breathing, the short moment of resistance before settling: it was all there, exactly as before. The same sensations getting in. The same calm coming out.
There were no new insights waiting for me this time. No breakthroughs. No surprises.
In that sense, it felt a bit like watching Donald Trump’s second presidency unfold:
different context, same patterns, same reactions, inside and out of the water.
I already knew what was going to happen.
My body knew it too.
Repetition doesn’t always teach. Sometimes it confirms
This third round didn’t expand my understanding of cold water swimming. Instead, it confirmed it. I didn’t need to prove anything anymore:
- I know I can do it
- I know what it gives me
- I know what it costs
That last part mattered more this time.
The bigger challenge wasn’t the swim
While I was swimming every day, I was also in the middle of a much larger personal project.
2025 was the year I turned 40, and my wider Misogi for the year was ambitious:
to cycle the distance from my mum’s birthplace in London to my dad’s birthplace in Saint Andrew, Barbados. A symbolic journey covering circa 6,700 km.
Now, I’m not new to cycling. I’m not new to cold water swimming. But combining winter swims, long rides, and real life created a very different experience.
Time became the real constraint
The swims themselves were short. What added up was everything around them.
- The hesitation before going
- The changing and re-changing
- Warming up
- Showering
- Getting back into the day
All of that happened while raising a two-year-old and keeping life moving.
Even on days with decent weather, I felt rushed.
Not stressed. Just constantly behind.
The irony was obvious:
Cold water swimming usually slows me down internally.
This time, the structure around it sped everything else up.
The benefits were still there. (Just compressed)
The swims still worked.
- They lifted my mood.
- They steadied my nervous system.
- They gave me a daily sense of completion.
But instead of expanding into the day, those benefits often stayed contained in a short window after getting out. I was happiest right after… then immediately onto the next thing.
Cold water was doing its job. The problem was life, MY LIFE was just a lot louder.
Ending it didn’t feel emotional and that felt right
When the 100 days ended, I wasn’t dramatic about it.
- No relief.
- No sadness.
- No urge to extend it.
This was my third winter 100.
I’d already learned the lesson. Three times over.
Stopping didn’t feel like quitting.
It felt like closing a well-used book.
Final thought
The first 100 swims taught me what discomfort can give you.
The second taught me how seasons change effort.
The third taught me something quieter:
Repetition doesn’t always change you:
sometimes it simply shows you where you are in life.
The water stayed the same. I stayed mostly the same.
What changed was time and quite simply how little of it there is.
And maybe that was the lesson this time.