It’s not even 9 on Sunday morning, and already I’m out of my depth.
Looking out of my new goggles and through a bubble-strewn maelstrom of churning waters, I can see the floor of the pool falling away far beneath me, and just for a moment, I consider drowning.
The truth is, I’m into new territory here. Way out of my comfort zone.
And a few minutes later, fearfully lined up in numerical order beside the pool, we’d all edged nervously forwards towards our fate. This was something different. We weren’t just starting a race – we were being processed.