Swimming without feeling judged...

I must admit, I approached my first This Girl Can swimming session with trepidation. Firstly, at 39, people are no longer describing me as a girl and, secondly, I had a vague suspicion that the whole thing might involve nothing more than dimming the lights and doing breast-stroke, while people shouted ‘you go girl’ from the side of the pool.

The Sport England campaign, This Girl Can, was launched in January 2015 to empower women in Britain and to encourage more to get active. It was a roaring success, with imaginative adverts showing women getting hot and sweaty. The TV ad had, at the last count, been viewed 37 million times online and it encouraged 2.8 million women aged 14 to 40 to exercise more.

Helping women swim

Now come the swim sessions. These hang on the fact that 2.2 million women in England say they want to swim but don’t. The reasons given included fear of judgement (on appearance and ability) and practical things — worrying about being exposed on the way to the pool, or having to share a shower and changing spaces. These pilot sessions (which last six months initially and take place across 52 specially selected sports centres across the UK) have been designed specifically with these factors in mind.

Happily, my suspicions were proved wrong. I rocked up to Vale Farm Sports Centre in Wembley on a mild March evening, with my (accidentally, quite revealing) swimsuit and a whole bunch of attitude about why women shouldn’t be treated any differently. Then Lyanne Harry, swim manager of Ealing, Harrow and Brent, showed me round the newly refurbished changing rooms, complete with powerful hair-dryers (yes!), personal showers and well-lit mirrors.

Women of all ages, sizes and swimsuit persuasion queued, some of them covered almost from head to toe, one in a sweatshirt, leggings and a t-shirt. For almost the first time in my life, I didn’t feel even a little bit out of place. I only learned to swim in later life and though I’ve never really felt self-conscious about my body, I have panicked about not being good enough, or looking stupid.

To your liking

So, for the last year or so, I have been diligently swimming in the privacy of my local pool at deliberately quiet hours, and only in the small pool. On the few occasions I have braved the big pool, I’ve felt intimidated by (a) better swimmers, (b) people who looked a whole lot fitter and (c) the fact that I am half-blind/might have accidentally forgotten to get changed. The This Girl Can sessions are for women only and – depending on the centre – over-14-year-olds.

They cost the same as a normal swim (which varies from centre to centre) and you can drop in whenever you fancy, which means you don’t have to commit to a weekly meeting or do a stressful induction.

You’re also encouraged to swim (or not) at your own pace and in whichever direction you fancy. Tanya Joseph, director of This Girl Can, explains, “With the women we spoke to we found there were a lot of issues around ability: Can I swim a length? It’s been a long while since I did it. People seem really competitive. On top of that you’re in a swimming costume and you’re really exposed.”

The sessions are manned by existing pool staff. “We’ve spent a lot of time with staff to make them understand that this is a different kind of customer,” says Joseph. “So, we look at everything from the website to talking to reception. The whole customer experience.” There’s a business case too, she adds. “We’re hearing already that the women going along are new customers — and they’re coming back.”

In my session, there are robe hooks and baskets right by the pool, which mean you can be fully clothed until the point of entry (I wore my glasses all the way to the side). As I entered the water with the other women, a friendly (older, and this is relevant) lady helper asked me if it was my first time and whether I needed any assistance.

She suggested I run up and down the pool to get used to it a bit. I thanked her and swam off confidently, pausing to put my feet down halfway up, without realising it was a proper-sized pool and I would sink. My older companion had been watching and, as I flailed, hoiked me out.

This might have been the point I fell in love with the idea of these sessions. If that had been my usual pool, I might have died a little inside, before staying away for a few weeks. But nobody batted an eyelid. A tall woman next to me continued bobbing up and down — in the same place on the spot, as she had been since I arrived —and nobody looked at me (well they might have done, but I couldn’t see them).

It occurred to me that I have never actually been to a women-only swimming session and, despite my earlier misgivings, I loved it. We all knew exactly why we were there. We were ready to support one another, to smile encouragingly — and we weren’t going to tut when one of us went sideways or backwards.

There was something very reassuring in that. And not one shred of judgement.