I had a buoy in my sights. Saying that aloud might have someone concerned about my age, and my marriage, but this was a buoy of the nautical nature. Bright orange, bobbing on the ocean, about 85m from the shore. I sat on Duneen beach contemplating the distance.

“Could you swim to that, Mammy?” my six-year-old daughter Molly asked. “I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. But a few days later, standing in the sea with my swimming instructor Grainne Caulfield from @westcorkswimcoaching, I gingerly asked her, ‘could I give it a go?’

For reference, up until a few weeks ago, my swimming consisted of a lot of splashing and not a lot of breathing. There was plenty of effort, but I was going nowhere fast. However, with three weeks in west Cork ahead of me, and a determination to get in the sea every day, I made it my mission to sign up for swimming lessons – and it was the best thing I did for myself all year.

And while I learned plenty of techniques in my one-to-one lessons over the three weeks, probably the most important lesson was in the first 15 minutes. “Are you a bit nervous or stressed?” asked Grainne after I splashed about for a while in an effort to ‘show her what I got’. I didn’t think I was, but it seemed my strokes were telling a different story. So we brought it back to basics, with Grainne teaching me to exhale into the water, to gently lift my head out of the sea and breath in, to slow down my strokes, to find my balance.

Up until a few weeks ago, my swimming consisted of a lot of splashing and not a lot of breathing. There was plenty of effort, but I was going nowhere fast

“If you fight the water, the water will always win,” she said – and that stuck in my head through every swim. It was in my head too when we were three quarters of the way out to the buoy and I slightly panicked that I was well out of my depth. The shore felt very far away. I slowed it down, took it stroke by stroke. And the only sudden, ungraceful movement was the big bang I gave that orange buoy out in the bay. It was a sense of achievement I hadn’t felt in a long time. I did it – not for the kids, not for my husband, not for work – I did it for me.

Two days later, I was swimming out to the buoy again, and this time, I had even more support – and there were big whoops and laughter when we made it. You see, the lessons were one part, but there was also plenty of practice to achieve my goal. There is a small community of swimmers – Anne Marie and Carol, Tríona and Maeve, and Richard and Mary and Claire, who get up early to go for a morning dip – and a few years ago, they invited me to join them. It has become a highlight of my holiday. And there’s chats about life, family and work, and the day ahead. There is a screech when you dive under the cold water for the first time and the occasional squeal when a jellyfish floats by. And then I’ll glide under the water, start my strokes and my mind clears – there’s no feeling like it and no better way to start the day.

“It’s a glorious morning,” and “isn’t this beautiful,” and “aren’t we so lucky,” are all phrases exchanged as we walk out of the water and warm up with a coffee.

It was hard to go home and leave the sea behind after a beautiful break – but I’ll be back soon. And in the meantime ladies, just keep swimming.