The sunshine came too late to raise the water temperature in the Tooting Bec Lido, south London. It was a frosty 0.5C. And a good thing too. In previous years, there have been grumblings from overseas competitors that the pool wasn't cold enough at the UK Cold Water Swimming Championships. That wasn't a sentiment I heard expressed this time.
The bright sun and aquamarine water looked vaguely tropical, but the grimaces and boiled lobster colour of the competitors were a more accurate guide to temperature. A woman in a flowery bathing cap swore decorously as she got in: "Flipping shit!"
The event is held at Tooting Bec Lido every two years, and is a very British celebration of masochism and funny hats. Cold water swimming has been taking place at the Lido since it was built in 1906, but the increased popularity of wild swimming (or what the lido's founders would have called "swimming") meant that 600 people had registered to taken part this time.
As my team – the Tooting Torpedoes – disrobed in the changing area, I allowed myself a small throb of smugness. I had a conversion experience when I jumped into an ice-hole in Ukraine last year as a dare and I've been swimming in the lido all winter. There are lots of anecdotal benefits, but speaking personally one of the greatest is the thought that nothing in the rest of your day will be as difficult as getting into the water. Then of course there's the light, the fresh air, the beautiful Edwardian architecture of the lido, the largest pool by surface area in the UK, and the feeling of wellbeing that follows the intense sensations of the first immersion.
Most of the races are a single width of the pool – 30m – solo or in relay. Race regulations forbid diving, and competitors have to begin with their shoulders under the water. Whether your put your head in is up to you. I'm not a great swimmer, but I felt like my willingness to do face down front crawl in water that is not much above freezing might be the Tooting Torpedoes' ace in the hole.
Sadly, it was not enough. Swimming the anchor leg, I was still waiting for my team-mate to touch while the other teams were heading off to the sauna and the hot tub. Still, I had the pleasure of swimming across a virtually empty pool. We finished 20th out of 28 in our age category, marginally ahead of a team who were penalised for walking.
The final race of the day was the endurance event: 450m, or two circuits of the enormous pool. This gripped the spectators as only a sporting event which offers the possibility of witnessing death by hypothermia can. One breaststroker who appeared to be struggling was encouraged to leave the pool by the lifeguards. The rest emerged looking dazed and wobbly and were handed cups of hot Ribena which they could barely hold. I think I'll put my name down for that one in 2015.
• Information on Tooting Bec Lido from dcleisurecentres.co.uk; on Cold Water Swimming Championships from slsc.org.uk/cwsc
