Brave and Stupid
It’s cloudy and breezy today. It actually looks like it might be January. I start off with a 6 mile run to Lantern Bay Park and back. There is still a fair amount of blue sky out among the clouds.
At 9:30 I head to the beach. By the time I get there, the clouds are now dominating the sky. There is a fair amount of texture on the water.
Walking down the stairs I am trying not to dwell on the cold water I am about to immerse myself in. Instead I focus on the sounds around me - the wind, birds, surf, and mom asking her little girl if she wants a jacket. The girl replies “no. It’s hot.” Well, she has been climbing up the stairs.
When I get to the beach, the landscape is pretty similar to yesterday - lots of rocks where there was once sand. The tide is just a bit lower today. The clouds definitely provide a small taste of ominousness.
I drop into the water since there is about an 18 inch ledge just past the water line and then I swim about 20 feet to the 5 inch deep sand and walk until I am waist deep again.
There are small waves coming from the shore and intersecting with the incoming waves making these cool colliding splashes.
As I begin my swim I feel an “ice cream headache.” I would get these from time to time my first winter but rarely get them now. They subside after a minute. I feel a wave of fatigue come over me as well which is fairly common in the first minutes after hitting the cold. It is absolutely colder today than it was yesterday.
There is a good current heading north today that I am currently swimming against. I enjoy this and it provides a distraction from the cold.
Soon I realize I am swimming at an angle toward shore from the small wind swell pushing in that direction so I course-correct and head west.
Once it is time to turn around and head north I am moving with the current. I keep a frequent eye on the Salt Creek lifeguard tower to keep from veering east. This seems to get easier the further north I go.
I’m trying to just let myself relax - at least my mind and thoughts. If I focus on the fact that it is just cold, I’m ok and I can do this like I have hundreds of times before, then my stress eases. I find that the stress is not so much from the direct experience of cold but the fear of what the cold may do in the near future.
About 5 minutes from my turn around spot 2 jet skis come and stop about 20 feet from me. I wonder if they are wondering if I need help. I hear their voices and I stop to see if they are trying to get my attention. I can’t make out what they are saying and I just continue on and they move on as well.
Time to turn around and make the final stretch home. Now I am against the current again. I swear it feels like I am swimming in place for several minutes and then almost instantly it looks like I have made significant headway. It is interesting how your angle of movement along the coast can give you the impression that you are further up or down the beach than you really are.
It’s time to head to shore. I nearly catch a wave in and then come to a standing position on the sand bar. Then I dip back down to the rocky canyon that separates the sand from the shore. I swim until I am literally inches from dry shore. There is this row of rocks and it is low tide making it tough to get past this final hurdle. I let the next wave push me onto the shore above the dip and I’m home free.
I towel off and put on 4 layers of shirt, over shirt, sweater and sweatshirt and go ahead and put on the hood of my sweatshirt. Still cold.
A woman passes by and says “you are brave.” I’m too spent to counter or even think of some witty self-effacing reply. When it’s too late I think of “or stupid.” Later I reflect on this. I like to think of these dualistic extremes more in terms of “both/and” than “either/or.” Sure - I can be both brave AND stupid. Wait…
