Could Paralympic champion Ellie Simmonds improve my freestyle?

Last week, several lucky schoolchildren traipsed down to the London Aquatics Centre for a once-in-a-lifetime swimming lesson with a true hero of the sport, four-time Paralympic champion Ellie Simmonds.

As you can imagine, there were nervous giggles and lots of squealing – and the kids were pretty excited too.

I had interviewed Ellie a few weeks earlier about her role as an ambassador for Sainsbury’s Active Kids campaign and the School Games, which she has just launched. She was returning to the Olympic Park pool to grant some competition winners their prize; a training session – and yours truly received a call saying there was some spare time, would I fancy coming down for a one-to-one lesson too?

I had been toying with the idea of sorting one out. After being a dedicated breaststroker my entire life, last year I switched to front crawl. It really was a case of starting from rock bottom. I’d never got the hang of freestyle at school – too difficult, too splashy, and too much unintentional swallowing for my liking.

But, when a lower back injury meant breaststroke was out, I’d had no choice but to make peace with my clumsy crawl. I persevered, watched some YouTube videos, read some stuff on this blog and, six months down the line, I was doing it – really doing it, proper sideways-head breathing and all. But, was I doing it properly? Now that I’d reached a semi-presentable level, I wanted some expert guidance to put the final polish on my DIY efforts.

Never in a million years would I have imagined I would end up having that lesson with Ellie Simmonds, in the very pool where the 19-year-old won gold in the S6 400m freestyle and broke two world records.

It turns out, had I been competing, I might have been a contender for a medal, too – for most inelegant entry into the pool. “How do I get in?” I’d asked, realising the steps were down the other end – and that’s 50-metres away; I couldn’t exactly exhaust myself before even getting wet, could I? “However you like,” Ellie replied. So I bombed in.

“I thought you’d disappeared,” Ellie gasped when I resurfaced a few minutes later. Not only is this pool long, it’s bloomin’ deep; three metres. And there’s no shallow end. It also – and I’m not sure to what degree this is psychological or genuine – makes swimming harder. It’s a strange sensation, barely being able to see the bottom of the pool and, as I sweep my arms through the water, the pull feels immense. It’s a little bit daunting, but I’m buzzing with adrenalin. Mainly because Ellie’s standing at the poolside as I do a half-length, but also because the Aquatics Centre really is rather special. The atmosphere is electric [not literally, of course, that would be a dangerous mix with all this water], but those magical Olympic and Paralympic moments seem to have left an almost tangible energy in the place.

“Well, that was pretty good,” is Ellie’s verdict when I make it back. “Thereare just a few things we can work on.”

I tend to be “slapping the water” with my palms. She shows me the correct way – hands straight, fingers together, slicing downwards, fingertips first, for a smooth entry into the water and effective drag when I’m pulling my arm back beneath me. “And make sure you keep your elbows high when you’re bringing your arm back round,” Ellie adds.

To help me master this, she gives me an exercise; swimming a few half-lengths [I’m doing halves because 25m is more manageable] but, rather than fully extending my arms, trailing my fingers along the water surface instead, so I never lose contact with the water. This forces me to keep my elbows nice and bent and high.

Focusing on a specific element, I soon realise that everything else goes out the window – my breathing rhythm is shot and I’m lifting my head upwards rather than sideways. “Don’t worry about that for now,” Ellie reassures me. “Everything will come together at the end.”

She gets me doing a few half-lengths with a float, so I can work on strengthening my kicking. A little bit of splash is OK, she says, but a good freestyle should really be sleek and elegant with not too much movement. Interestingly, Ellie tells me she doesn’t have a set pattern for taking breaths. “I just breathe when I really need to,” she says. I give it a go but it doesn’t work for me; I need to know my rhythm or it freaks me out and I forget to breathe altogether.

My position in the water isn’t bad, Ellie notes, but to perfect it, I could try tucking my head down a tiny bit more when my face is under. Putting it all together, it feels slightly odd at first, but – I can feel myself gliding a bit more efficiently, and more smoothly.

Of course, it would be criminal not to go for gold and attempt a couple of full 50m lengths. So off I go, elbows high, fingers pointed, remember to breathe …

This week, I’m not sure what the lifeguards at my local leisure centre made of my smug grin when I got into the pool. What can I say but; thank you, Ellie, you’re a star.

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