It's still dark as I leave the house a little after 6:00. I park at the Strand and start with a 7.5 mile run through the harbor and back up cove road and over the headlands trail.

It's a great run. The sky is dark but clear. As I run down the paved path between the town homes and eight figure estates, I can see the sky loom over the hills of Dana Point pink then blue and then black. It's still about a half hour before sunrise but I can tell it's going to be an immaculate morning.

This indeed comes to pass. When I run through the gate at the interpretive center at the headlands trailhead, I'm looking north towards Laguna and see a long wisp of smoke that looks like a thin black cloud.

I change into trunks at my car and head down the stairs at 7:45. The water looks so blue and smooth with just a little ruffle from a light offshore breeze. I soak in the sound of the surf and I can feel the stillness here settle my mind.

Once I can see the shore and shallows, I spot several swimmers finishing up their swim. The surf is so small this morning that they are easy to follow without losing them behind the wakes.

Whatever swell was here on Friday, it's long gone now. I'm looking south down the beach and see waves breaking and watch the mist spray off of the falling crests, but these must be one to two feet waves and we can thank the offshore breeze for that spray.

I walk into the water and it feels colder than yesterday. I wonder if it's going to be a struggle with the cold today. Then I start swimming and as I get into deeper water, it gets warmer and soon I am totally fine. I don't think it is any colder than yesterday.

I swim south. The water is lovely but not clear. It has a green tint. I can see my hands and pieces of stray floating kelp quite clearly, but the floor is only shadows.

This feels so different from yesterday’s Laguna swim. Here, I can settle in amongst the figures I watch in front of me. I can snuggle into a nook and lose my sense of self. Yesterday I was fully engaged with everything around me. There was me and fish and kelp and unfamiliar shoreline. We were all distinct entities. I'm pretty sure if I did that same swim hundreds of times, I'd find a nook and melt into the kelp forest.

The cool that I feel on my skin right now feels so good. I explore that feeling and try to follow it for as long as I can.

I can barely make out the houses on the shore. They just look like shapeless blobs of lumber that have been thrown together. Every now and then I spot a window or a patch of cobble siding.

The sun has just come over the bluff and cancels out any detail. I'm getting close to the end of the beach and nearing the shadow of the cliffs.

I cross the shadow and everything is at once darker and also easier to see. I see people fishing on the rocks here. I stop and take in the view around me. It is so clear and I can barely see the point at the north end of three arch. My camera cannot. It's just a blur in the pictures. Maybe I can zoom in and find it. We'll see.

I head back north now. The water just looks so vibrantly blue and smooth out to the horizon. I spot a couple lobster buoys and snap the obligatory pictures. I love the color of the buoy against the blue of the water and sky.

I know church is after this and I'm going to hear lots of words that don't resonate with me and some, maybe more, that make me bristle. I want to come to a place where I can be ok with that.

As I swim and am surrounded by water and sky, I wonder just what is true? I look around and ask myself what is it right here right and now that I know to be true?

All of this beauty that surrounds me now is true and it is all good. We are all good .That's the best I can do and it seems good enough. I'm satisfied.

The tint of the water shifts from green to blue as I make my way to the north end of the beach. I see a golden sliver of illuminated sand in front of the bathrooms. With the scant surf and wind, I have seen it all the way up the beach.

I turn around and make the final push for the end of the swim. I'm pooped! I have to stop a few times to catch my breath. I swim all the way to the ramp.

As I sit here in the last foot of water, a tiny but nicely shaped wave approaches and I take a picture. If I zoom and pan just so, it looks like it's 20 feet.