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Adele shares her honest story of taking on 100 x 100s - a 10km pool challenge that tested far more than speed. From anxiety about not belonging in a club-style lane setup to finding confidence, rhythm & real camaraderie, this is a brilliant read about showing up scared, surprising yourself & earning your space.
By Adele Benson, Catch Ambassador and ultra swimmer.
I’m Adele, I’m an ultra-marathon swimmer.
And I didn’t come to swimming the traditional way.
In adult life, I found swimming as a way to manage bad mental health and to process family illness. It became a place where I could be alone with my thoughts, move my body, and feel something settle. I kept swimming because it gave me solace when very little else did.
I’ve never swum in a club setting.
Those environments can feel intimidating when you didn’t grow up in them between the rules you’re meant to know, the pace clocks, and the unspoken etiquette. I usually swim on my own, in a lane session that’s mostly quiet, where I know the rhythms and expectations. In that environment, I’m often one of the faster swimmers.
Which is comfortable, but can also be limiting.
100 x 100 is a swim challenge where you swim 100 metres on a set time interval, 100 times. Total distance is 10km.
It’s simple on paper.
It is not simple in practice.
You’re racing the clock, not the swimmer next to you. Every send-off matters. Every turn matters. There’s nowhere to hide if your pacing is off.
I booked the 100x100s because I had been working to get faster and wanted to up the stakes. And because my winter training needed something more interesting than just clocking up lengths to work off the extra roast potatoes.
I signed up in the slowest lane they offered: 2:00 per 100m. That choice alone tells you a lot about where my head was at.
For years I’ve been swimming long distances, from Windermere to the English Channel, and in 2026 I’ll be swimming the Bristol Channel too. I’ve always identified as a slower swimmer, satisfied with taking my time, knowing I’ll get there eventually. But last year I swam Lake Annecy wearing my watch, and I found myself checking the pace which took away from the enjoyment of the swim itself. I want to worry less about speed, not more.
In the weeks leading up to it, I was anxious in a very specific way.
Not CAN I swim 10km? I know I can.
But:
- Am I good enough to be there?
- What if I mess it up for everyone else?
- What if I can’t hold that pace for that long?
There’s a particular vulnerability in stepping into a space where everyone else seems to know what they’re doing whilst you’re very aware that you don’t.
The fear I kept returning to was falling so far behind that I’d start holding everyone else up, or be overtaken by the lane leader.
So I narrowed my focus on what I could control.
I learned how to tumble turn properly using the Catch 6 step programme. Something I’d avoided for years because it felt optional in solo swimming, but suddenly felt non-negotiable.
I showed up to training well slept, well fuelled, and committed to trying my best.
That became the plan: prepare properly, control the controllables, and let the rest be whatever it was going to be. Trust that the training I’d put in would set me up as well as possible.
On the day, the nerves didn’t disappear.
They softened, but they were still there, mixed in with excitement.
Excitement to prove to myself that I had gotten faster.
Excitement to meet other amazing swimmers doing something equally ambitious on a weekend morning.
A few days before, an email landed that eased a huge amount of worry: after every 1000m there would be a one-minute break to drink, and a five-minute break halfway through for the toilet and extra snacks. We also had the lanes booked until 4pm, meaning there was time to catch up if needed. ACE!
There was a buzz about the pool. Everyone finding their lanes, setting up feeds, placing the abacus, making sure the clock was visible for the lane leaders.
The set-off was quick. A few introductions, then straight into it. In the first few lengths there was some reshuffling - who wanted to move ahead, who was happy to sit back. I settled into a solid third position, comfortably benefiting from the draft of the swimmers in front.
The swim was tough. Not immediately, adrenaline carries you for a while, but steadily tough.
There were moments where it felt smooth, moments where it felt endless, and moments where my brain tried to negotiate an early exit.
Somewhere in the middle, it stopped being about speed and became about rhythm. Hold the line. Hit the wall. Turn. Go again.
Unlike longer swims where distraction is essential, there was no time for that here. I was constantly pushing, paying attention to everyone else, and managing the 5–10 seconds at the wall: pulling my swim hat back down, clearing fog from my goggles, sorting out a wedgie. Sometimes doing the maths of how long until the next break. At 4km, it became a countdown to the toilet stop.
One of the best surprises of the day was the people.
Being in the “slowest” lane didn’t mean what I thought it would. It didn’t feel like being out of place, there was plenty of encouragement, shared suffering, and solidarity. Checking in on each other. Noticing when someone was struggling.
I came in worried I didn’t belong.
I left feeling like I’d earned my space.
At one point, someone complimented my feet, which is possibly the most swimmer-coded compliment there is, and one I will treasure forever.
In the final kilometre, I found myself counting down the remaining 100s with Sal Minty-Gravit MBE, while telling the swimmer in front of me how strong they looked.
By the end, I touched the wall and laughed at myself for what I’d been so worried about. I felt proud, not just that I’d finished, but of how calmly and confidently I’d held my place.
The process of the 100x100s didn’t just make me faster.
It reminded me that:
- Anxiety doesn’t mean you’re unprepared
- You don’t have to grow up in a sport to belong
- You can show up and surprise yourself
It was a test, and not just of speed.
If you’re hovering on the edge of something because you don’t feel like you quite fit - a club, a challenge, a faster lane - this is me telling you that fitting isn’t the entry requirement.
Showing up is.
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If Adele’s story resonated with you, go give her a follow for more swimming adventures, honesty & top-tier swimmer chat.
Follow Adele on Instagram & TikTok: @swimmingadele
If you want support with your own swimming - whether that’s getting faster, building confidence, or finally learning the skills you’ve been putting off (hello tumble turns) - Catch can help.
Use Adele’s code ADELE for:
- 30 days free
- £15 off Catch Gold
Sign up here: https://web.catchswim.com/
By Adele Benson, Catch Ambassador and ultra swimmer.
I’m Adele, I’m an ultra-marathon swimmer.
And I didn’t come to swimming the traditional way.
In adult life, I found swimming as a way to manage bad mental health and to process family illness. It became a place where I could be alone with my thoughts, move my body, and feel something settle. I kept swimming because it gave me solace when very little else did.
I’ve never swum in a club setting.
Those environments can feel intimidating when you didn’t grow up in them between the rules you’re meant to know, the pace clocks, and the unspoken etiquette. I usually swim on my own, in a lane session that’s mostly quiet, where I know the rhythms and expectations. In that environment, I’m often one of the faster swimmers.
Which is comfortable, but can also be limiting.
100 x 100 is a swim challenge where you swim 100 metres on a set time interval, 100 times. Total distance is 10km.
It’s simple on paper.
It is not simple in practice.
You’re racing the clock, not the swimmer next to you. Every send-off matters. Every turn matters. There’s nowhere to hide if your pacing is off.
I booked the 100x100s because I had been working to get faster and wanted to up the stakes. And because my winter training needed something more interesting than just clocking up lengths to work off the extra roast potatoes.
I signed up in the slowest lane they offered: 2:00 per 100m. That choice alone tells you a lot about where my head was at.
For years I’ve been swimming long distances, from Windermere to the English Channel, and in 2026 I’ll be swimming the Bristol Channel too. I’ve always identified as a slower swimmer, satisfied with taking my time, knowing I’ll get there eventually. But last year I swam Lake Annecy wearing my watch, and I found myself checking the pace which took away from the enjoyment of the swim itself. I want to worry less about speed, not more.
In the weeks leading up to it, I was anxious in a very specific way.
Not CAN I swim 10km? I know I can.
But:
- Am I good enough to be there?
- What if I mess it up for everyone else?
- What if I can’t hold that pace for that long?
There’s a particular vulnerability in stepping into a space where everyone else seems to know what they’re doing whilst you’re very aware that you don’t.
The fear I kept returning to was falling so far behind that I’d start holding everyone else up, or be overtaken by the lane leader.
So I narrowed my focus on what I could control.
I learned how to tumble turn properly using the Catch 6 step programme. Something I’d avoided for years because it felt optional in solo swimming, but suddenly felt non-negotiable.
I showed up to training well slept, well fuelled, and committed to trying my best.
That became the plan: prepare properly, control the controllables, and let the rest be whatever it was going to be. Trust that the training I’d put in would set me up as well as possible.
On the day, the nerves didn’t disappear.
They softened, but they were still there, mixed in with excitement.
Excitement to prove to myself that I had gotten faster.
Excitement to meet other amazing swimmers doing something equally ambitious on a weekend morning.
A few days before, an email landed that eased a huge amount of worry: after every 1000m there would be a one-minute break to drink, and a five-minute break halfway through for the toilet and extra snacks. We also had the lanes booked until 4pm, meaning there was time to catch up if needed. ACE!
There was a buzz about the pool. Everyone finding their lanes, setting up feeds, placing the abacus, making sure the clock was visible for the lane leaders.
The set-off was quick. A few introductions, then straight into it. In the first few lengths there was some reshuffling - who wanted to move ahead, who was happy to sit back. I settled into a solid third position, comfortably benefiting from the draft of the swimmers in front.
The swim was tough. Not immediately, adrenaline carries you for a while, but steadily tough.
There were moments where it felt smooth, moments where it felt endless, and moments where my brain tried to negotiate an early exit.
Somewhere in the middle, it stopped being about speed and became about rhythm. Hold the line. Hit the wall. Turn. Go again.
Unlike longer swims where distraction is essential, there was no time for that here. I was constantly pushing, paying attention to everyone else, and managing the 5–10 seconds at the wall: pulling my swim hat back down, clearing fog from my goggles, sorting out a wedgie. Sometimes doing the maths of how long until the next break. At 4km, it became a countdown to the toilet stop.
One of the best surprises of the day was the people.
Being in the “slowest” lane didn’t mean what I thought it would. It didn’t feel like being out of place, there was plenty of encouragement, shared suffering, and solidarity. Checking in on each other. Noticing when someone was struggling.
I came in worried I didn’t belong.
I left feeling like I’d earned my space.
At one point, someone complimented my feet, which is possibly the most swimmer-coded compliment there is, and one I will treasure forever.
In the final kilometre, I found myself counting down the remaining 100s with Sal Minty-Gravit MBE, while telling the swimmer in front of me how strong they looked.
By the end, I touched the wall and laughed at myself for what I’d been so worried about. I felt proud, not just that I’d finished, but of how calmly and confidently I’d held my place.
The process of the 100x100s didn’t just make me faster.
It reminded me that:
- Anxiety doesn’t mean you’re unprepared
- You don’t have to grow up in a sport to belong
- You can show up and surprise yourself
It was a test, and not just of speed.
If you’re hovering on the edge of something because you don’t feel like you quite fit - a club, a challenge, a faster lane - this is me telling you that fitting isn’t the entry requirement.
Showing up is.
If Adele’s story resonated with you, go give her a follow for more swimming adventures, honesty & top-tier swimmer chat.
Follow Adele on Instagram & TikTok: @swimmingadele
If you want support with your own swimming - whether that’s getting faster, building confidence, or finally learning the skills you’ve been putting off (hello tumble turns) - Catch can help.
Use Adele’s code ADELE for:
- 30 days free
- £15 off Catch Gold
Sign up here: https://web.catchswim.com/
Sign up to Catch Free
You’ll get access to the online swim community with training session ideas, mini courses, a swim content hub & local swim squad.
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