Warmer In Than Out

A leisurely winter swimmer's exploration into what we can learn from tarmac

Winter swimming has become my annual reminder that humans are surprisingly bad at adapting.

Every June, Sydney drops below 20 degrees and we collectively behave as though we’ve been relocated to the Arctic.

Though there is mild comfort to be found in the fact the we are not alone in our struggles to adapt as demonstrated a few years back, during a European heatwave, when runways started melting.

Anyway, if you haven’t heard, it’s winter in Sydney. As a Welshman, I’m contractually obligated to tell Australians they’re overreacting. Yet every year, I’m surprised by how cold I feel too.

Daily updates on water temperature (I’m never correct), debates about whether 14 degrees is “actually cold” (it is), and pre-swim complaints are now a regular part of my week (I’m the complainant).

Now, for the seven people still reading, some of whom are outside Australia, you’ll be saying smugly, “Get a grip. Fourteen degrees isn’t cold.”

And you’re kind of right.

At first, I was embarrassed by how quickly my Welsh, ski-seasoned body could suddenly find anything below 20 degrees “a little bit chilly on my fingys”.

And it’s not just my weak, often malnourished self. There are real Celtic and Viking folk living here who, after a six-month working holiday in Australia, are the first to pull out the puffy gilets. And for the Brits back home reading this, you’re not much better. Mention of your 25-degree heatwave struggles always make the Aussies scoff just the same.

Which got me wondering whether adaptation is less about toughness and more about what we’re built for.

Bear with me while I take you on a slightly autistic tangent about tarmac (puts on hard hat).

You may remember back in 2022, during a European heatwave, when planes were grounded because runways were literally softening in the heat. Like dipping a biscuit in your tea, the surface simply wasn’t built for those temperatures.

It’s because not all tarmac is created equal.

Every country has its own recipe, designed for the climate it’s expected to endure. In colder climates, roads are built to remain flexible through freezing winters. In hotter climates, they’re designed to withstand blistering summers. When conditions move beyond what they were engineered for, they crack, warp or melt.

It’s why cities like New York, which endure both freezing winters and scorching summers, spend half their lives trying to keep their roads in one piece.

But we are not, surprisingly, made of tarmac.

There’s no special recipe for us.

We can try to Wim Hof* our way to withstanding harsher conditions, which the author has attempted in the past. On dry land, we can hide behind layers of gorp-core vests, beanies and technical fabrics, in which the author also partakes.

But with winter swimming, those options shrink dramatically (pun intended).

Unless you succumb to the sensible option of a wetsuit, it’s just your tarmacless body and a ‘never regret a swim’ mantra against the mercy of that undisclosed water temperature.

The reward? Satisfaction and smugness, I guess – plus, the coffee after hits that little bit better.

And perhaps that’s the point.

Unlike roads, we don’t get rebuilt for every season. We carry the same body into winter that got us through summer and then act surprised when the experience feels different.

I grew up in Wales, and sauntered around for a number of years as what my auntie would call a ‘ski bum’. I arrived in Australia expecting to win winter. Instead, I’ve discovered that being cold somewhere else doesn’t make you any less cold here.

We spend a lot of our lives feeling inadequate for not handling conditions that were never normal to begin with.

A road built for Calgary would fail in Dubai. A road built for Dubai would fail in Calgary.

Yet every June, I seem surprised that the version of myself designed for February struggles a little (nay, a lot) in winter.

Which is probably worth remembering next Friday morning, standing barefoot on the Gordon’s Bay ramp, trying to convince myself that 14 degrees isn’t that cold after all.

*not sure if Wim Hof got cancelled, haven’t done the research, but in case he has, replace with other famed cold water person