London

Synchronised swimming
When it comes to swimming, I’m definitely an Esther Williams girl. But synchronised swimming? How hard can treading water while doing an impersonation of a smiling Queen Mum really be?

‘Bend your knees and stick your bottom out as if you were peeing in a field,’ says my teacher for the day, Janna Callan, of Central YMCA. The words effortlessness and elegance, usually used to talk about synchronised swimming, seem to be conspicuously absent. Janna says the sport, which debuted as a full medal event in 1984, is relatively low-key in the UK (it has a strong following in Reading, apparently). It’s the Russians who dominate. Feature continues

The basic move seems to be ‘skulling’, not a clash of heads, but a flicking movement from the wrists. The best thing about the sport is the fabulous names, such as flamingo, oyster or egg beater (the one with the crouching toilet arrangement). Despite spluttering and splashing, I’m starting to get the hang of it when it strikes me: I’m synchronised swimming solo, surely the watery equivalent of solitary line dancing? As I spin around in the ‘energy conserving’ spoke position, I ponder the fact that Olympic-standard synchronised swimmers train for eight to ten hours per day, six days per week. I dream of Busby Berkeley and kaleidoscopic, five-star formations. Then I realise I’d have to ditch the day job to do this properly… Rebecca Taylor

A mass synchronised swim for Londoners, The Big Sync, is on Sept 22.
For more swimming events see www.london.gov.uk/summer-of-sportà«š

Table tennis
Table tennis is not a sport that often impacts on the national consciousness, but, in places like Southall Sports Centre, the game is thriving. Jon Kaufman, community coach of the centre’s club, London Progress, is realistic about Britain’s chances of Olympic glory, pointing to China’s domination of the recent World Championships. A glance around confirms his club’s inclusive nature, with ping-pong virgins and middle-aged men mixing with intense aspiring internationals. Among them is 11-year-old Charleigh Kirby, a member of the England under-12 training squad and the pint-sized nemesis of Time Out’s table tennis aspirations.

Kaufman has promised her a financial reward if she is able to win any of our games 11-0. It’s soon clear that her speed, spin and consistency make this a very realistic prospect. After 45 minutes, I’m sweaty, exhausted and have lost 11-1. As well as playing games, those aiming for the top will spend an hour each session playing the same shot repeatedly. And though endurance is less important than agility, balance and suppleness, the quick bursts needed to reach shots are tiring. ‘Without a reasonably high level of aerobic fitness you’d hit a brick wall way below competition level,’ says Jon.

It would have helped if I’d started my training young. For the moment I’ve found my level, and it’s the under-tens. Phil Harrison

London Progress, Southall & West London College, Beaconsfield Rd, Middx (07803 082 661/www.londonprogress.com) Southall rail.

Freestyle wrestling
The applause rings out across a sports hall in Kensington; I have been officially welcomed to the world of freestyle wrestling. In a way it’s rather disappointing; as a young grapple fan I preferred the bad guys: the Giant Haystacks to the Big Daddies, the ‘Ravishing’ Rick Rudes to the Hulk Hogans. But this isn’t the place for taunting or trash talk. As I’m about to discover, proper, amateur wrestling is not an activity to take lightly.

Hanor Masoud’s wrestling school has been going for 20 years and is one of fewer than half a dozen left in London, down from more than 25 in the 1970s. Wrestling is largely kept alive by second-generation immigrants for whom wrestling is a cultural imperative: Masoud’s club enjoys the patronage of numerous Iranians and eastern Europeans. The standard is high and the application considerable, but it’s open to all comers.

The warm-up takes 20 minutes: an exhausting series of jogs, sprints and crawls act merely as hors d’oeuvre to the grappling. I’m paired with a softly spoken Englishman who proceeds to trip me up, throw me over his shoulder, and pin me to the mat. Politely, he then offers me the opportunity to do the same. I cannot, at which point it dawns on me that I lack most of, if not all, the basic characteristics of a successful wrestler: upper-body strength, agility, flexibility and, most of all, the stomach for a fight. Also, I would have ideally started by 17, when my body was still developing. Masoud seems to think that a couple of two-hour sessions a week on the mat, plus regular weights and cardio training, would be best to start off my training – which means I’ve got a long way to go to reach pro standard.

So it’s with some relief that I retire to watch the athletes compete. And compete is the word: two big beasts spar in the middle, grunting furiously, while the smaller fry whizz around like orbiting electrons. Meanwhile Masoud trains a 17-year-old girl he feels could make the national team for 2012 and, at the other end of the scale, a septuagenarian is charging his opponent with terrifying vigour, although he’s probably too old to be a contender for the men’s squad. As, I concede, am I. Gabriel Tate

Hanor Masoud wrestling school, Kensington Leisure Centre,Walmer Rd, W11 (07950 773 083) Latimer Rd tube.

Triathlon
Limp-jogging into the ExCeL centre drenched in sweat and a whole satisfying second ahead of ‘BBC Breakfast’ goodie-goodie Kate Silverton, taking my final leap over the women’s sprint finish line for the Michelob London Triathlon 2006 was a memorable moment. A gruelling affair, the 750-metre swim (in the Royal Victoria Dock) involved a battle of arms and legs resembling piranhas in a feeding frenzy. After cycling 20km my legs were starting to melt but, oh no, I then had to run 5km – in the blazing sun. The transition from bike to feet wasn’t easy – by the time I started running my legs were so stiff and heavy I looked like a duck in a hurry.

Since debuting in the Sydney Olympics in 2000, the popularity of triathlon has soared. There are clubs all over the capital, including Tri London. ‘You just have to be able to do 16 lengths non-stop quite easily,’ says Jo Carritt, the impressively toned race captain of the club, who I meet at the Wednesday night swim session at Cally Pool, Islington, where members of mixed abilities meet up to train. ‘A session usually ends in the pub,’ she explains, much to my relief.

But exactly how much running, swimming and cycling would I have to do between now and the Olympics to be a serious contender? I completed the sprint distance – that’s a 750-metre swim, 20km cycle and 5km run in a total of 1hr 43mins, almost exactly twice the time it takes a professional athlete. The current women’s record holder, Jackie Gallagher, completed the Olympic distances (double the sprint lengths) in an impressive 1hr 50mins 52secs.

‘Pro triathletes train on average 30 hours a week, 48 weeks a year,’ says Dan Salcedo, head coach for the British men’s triathlon team. ‘Female triathletes are fastidious about their weight because you have to be light and lean to be able to run fast. That means reasonable amounts of carbs and protein, with protein shakes and recovery bars straight after a training session. And no drinking,’ he explains. Olympic gold is looking a fair way off. Maggie Davis

Tri London (www.trilondon.co.uk).