The Ice Mile - 3 Years On

Cold water swimmer, Becca Harvey, takes us over the course of a year as she prepares for the challenge of an Ice Mile. It’s a journey of grit, training, and pushing limits, set against the stunning yet tough UK landscapes.

As I stood at the edge of Loch Insh I could feel the cold water lapping at my toes enticing me in. I didn’t plan to pause when I first approached the water, and it wasn’t hesitance, but a moment I wanted to remember. In times of challenge, it’s good to stop, take stock and remind yourself of the journey it took to get to it. I couldn’t quite believe I was there, surrounded by friends and fellow swimmers watching from the café balcony. There was a quiet over the place even though it was mid-morning, almost like my world was sighing after the rigmarole of what got me to that point. Then a flock of geese honked overhead, like nature’s starter’s gun, and I saw that as my sign to start.

It had been three years since I started training for an ice mile and honestly, I thought my time had been and gone to complete one. I thought it was a challenge that wasn’t going to be in my timeline after so many knock backs.

If you’re an outdoor swimmer you may have heard of the ice mile, and much like me, you may underestimate it and just think it’s a distance to acclimatise for, but it’s so much more. An ice mile is swimming a distance of a mile in water of five degrees celsius or below, only a swimming costume is permitted, no wetsuit, gloves or boots. That in itself is daunting, and it took many years to enter various events to increase my distance.

It doesn’t take a solo human to accomplish something like this, it takes an army and that’s something I hadn’t realised until a few years into training. I was extremely lucky to be surrounded by decorated swimmers, who had helped me train and gave me advice on everything, from “underwear is unnecessary in winter” to using a sippy cup for hot drinks when I got the shakes. It’s almost like the drive to succeed gave me tunnel vision at the start of my years of training, as I really believed that I’d succeed first time. That I’d get my ice mile and that was that, no-one warned me about the turmoil that comes with it.

When I decided to pursue the ice mile, I initially wanted to prove to myself I wasn’t broken and that I could still do hard things. I was a few years into a post-traumatic stress (PTSD) diagnosis and felt like the water was my safe space to push myself in ways the dry land wouldn’t allow. This mindset though was not the ice mindset, because I found out quite quickly that if you pin your worth on something like this you begin to chase it. It doesn’t remain a healthy challenge, but becomes a frantic need. This is really dangerous in ice swimming because you have to have discipline and push yourself, but also listen to your body when you’re getting too cold. Knowing that line is an art that only experience will give you.

I think one of the hardest parts of training is the unpredictability and uncertainty of the ice mile, as conditions have to be perfect, with a whole team of people to set it up. From medicals, to water rescue plans, to having an official observer, warm up team, approved venue and that’s not even mentioning the three thermometers that have to be of five degrees celsius or below. I can see why after three seasons I’d given up, as there had been so many challenges to get to that point. Cancelled attempts due to water temperature, wind and an observer being ill. It had all started to feel like I was on a never-ending escalator, not wanting to stop because if I did I may lose my cold water tolerance. I just kept training for nearly 3 years until the end of the 2022 season when I’d started to let go, and realise that the training is the hardest part of a challenge like this. That it would be healthier to stop training, to stop putting my life on hold, as everything was going in to this, my spare time, my money, even the conversations I was having…..but exactly as everyone tells you, just as I had given up, the tide changed and I got my attempt.

It’s been nearly three years since completed an ice mile, but when I look back I see this period of my life as an extreme coping mechanism. When I completed my ice mile I didn’t feel pride, I felt relief and I was really frustrated in the moments around it. The only thing people were asking was “what’s next” or “time for another one”, but actually I was just relieved the relentless training was over, I’d lost a lot of my love of swimming and the peace it used to give me and I just wanted that back.

Three years on, the ice mile was a turning point for me, because once I’d completed it, I had space to really prioritise myself. We often hear cold water is the cure for mental health, but it’s actually a tool that can help us find the strength within ourselves. Whether it’s trying therapy again, going to your GP or otherwise. The ice mile taught me that you don’t have to suffer it out and keep pushing through icy waters, ignoring the cold. You can turn and face it, and come out stronger.