Born in Walsall in 1994, Ellie Simmonds is a retired Paralympic swimmer and TV presenter. She moved to Swansea when she was 11 to train with the GB squad and at 13 was the youngest member of the British team at the Beijing 2008 Paralympics, winning two gold medals. She won two further golds at London 2012, breaking two world records, and a fifth gold at Rio 2016. Since retiring in 2021, she has presented for BBC Sport, and her documentaries include A World Without Dwarfism? and Finding My Secret Family. Along with Stephen Fry and Mo Farah, she takes part in Celebration Day on 25 May, to honour those who are no longer with us.
This is me in my grandma’s garden in Walsall. I have happy memories of being there – we would bake cakes or play outside all day. It’s a typical image of me aged four – energetic, non-stop and vibrant. Mum says I was never one to sit inside and watch TV, despite her efforts to occasionally get me to chill out on the sofa. Screen time wasn’t for me.
Our family is unique. I am the youngest of five kids, and all of us are adopted – my parents adopted me at three months old. Even though I was the baby of the group, I was so go-go-go and boisterous, I probably ruled the roost. My sister Katie has achondroplasia, too, and my other sister, Pauline, has a disability. Mum and Dad raised us to embrace our differences, and made sure every one of us had self-belief. They taught us we could accomplish anything – nothing could stop us. Being part of the Dwarf Sports Association – surrounded by people who understood my experience – also gave me confidence.
I was really lucky growing up, as we had a pool in the garden, just a little one. From the age of two I loved being in the water, and when I was five I learned how to swim properly. I was strong and driven from the off – that competitive spirit was innate.
I hadn’t considered being able to swim professionally until I watched the Athens 2004 Paralympics on TV. I was used to swimming with non-disabled people at a club, but suddenly realised there was a potential career ahead of me. Mum did some research and I went to my first disability gala in December 2004 in Swansea. There were talent spotters there who said that I was good for my age. I went to the Beijing 2008 trials in April and hit the qualification time with a new world record.
I was 13 when I won my first gold medal at the Beijing Paralympics. To celebrate, I mainly wanted to sleep, but first I went to McDonald’s at the Paralympic Village, where we got an unlimited amount of food; a very exciting prospect for me at that age. Being part of a squad was special to me – I was a real social butterfly and loved being with my teammates. Even though we were doing untypical things such as travelling the world together, we used to get up to normal teenage things, like making up dances to Britney Spears. My teammates were a lot older, so they took me under their wing and we quickly became like sisters. I also had a great coach called Billy [Pye], who was like my second dad.
Going through puberty at the same time as competing as an athlete wasn’t as hard as you’d imagine – my body was an engine and it made me feel powerful. I was aware of the changes happening, and there were times I was tired and hormonal, but every early morning and intense training session took me closer to success.
Getting defeated in the 400 metres freestyle in Glasgow in 2015 was a tough moment. I’d done well in Beijing and London, so to lose my title was devastating. My brain went into overdrive – I was putting myself down a lot and I became my worst enemy, trying to figure out what I did wrong. Did I not sleep enough, train hard enough? I have a habit of taking failure out on myself and at times I have to remind myself not to be so self-critical.
Rio was not an easy time either – we had one coach who I felt pushed us a bit too hard. I had a year out after that. Then there was a break during Covid – that time off made me realise there might be a future for me away from sport. I still wanted one last hurrah, though, so I was training towards Tokyo. I was living in London, but it wasn’t the same – I would sit on the tube, wishing I was going to a yoga class instead. I was getting resentful of swimming. I’d done four games. I’d accomplished everything that I had wanted to do and I felt ready for a new challenge.
Plus I also got a message from the universe. Back in 2006, during my first ever world championships, I got disqualified in the 100 metres backstroke. When I did my last race at the Tokyo Games, the 400 metres freestyle final, I was also initially disqualified. Me and Billy took this as a sign that it was time to go.
The hardest thing about transitioning from being a full-time athlete to normal life was the change to my body. Exercise was my job – I was training every single day. Then all of a sudden I wasn’t burning calories or moving constantly. I had to watch what I ate. But I loved not getting up for training when it was dark outside. I loved that it didn’t matter if I didn’t sleep well. Even things like drug testing were a relief to put behind me – when I was competing I couldn’t even take cold medicine, because I’d be worrying it would show up in the results. The constant vigilance and pressure was finally over.
For most of my career I had to try to avoid any distractions, and was quite selfish about how I spent my time. But when I retired I finally had the mental space to question things that had been on my mind for decades – like where I come from and who my birth mother is. I had heard from other adoptees that you can leave it too late to make contact, so I started to worry I might never find her. I decided I should document my journey, too, as adoption is not really spoken about often, especially when it comes to kids with disabilities, which was the reason why I was put up for adoption. I was nervous, and very emotional, but it was a weight off my shoulders. The experience mainly made me realise that my parents are my parents. I love them and they’ve given me so many amazing opportunities.
What would my life look like without swimming? My mum always says I probably would have ended up in jail! She doubts that I could sit still long enough to maintain a nine to five. It would probably involve being around lots of people, and my passion, which is looking after the environment.
Right now I don’t miss the adrenaline of competing. I do still like to do exciting things – such as skydiving, and deep diving, and last year I did a 100-mile bike ride for charity – but the intensity isn’t the same. This next chapter of my life is about having time to sit on the beach and watch the world go by. To laugh around a kitchen table and debate topical subjects with my family. To enjoy life’s simple things.
