Early start at 6:20 this morning. It’s 50 degrees and clear skies. While yesterday’s 52 felt like 65, today’s 50 felt like 27.

Surfline adjusted its water temperature reading this morning to 60. At least we are all being honest with each other now. Even if the truth hurts.

Passing Doheny, there is a little bump on the water but the beginning of what looks to be a beautiful start of the day. I pass Del Obispo and there are two cars holding up traffic trying to take a left into the Starbucks across the street. Apparently they either don’t notice the 2x double yellow divider or don’t care. This was never a problem when that Starbucks was a Jack in the Box.

I get to the parking lot and today, unlike yesterday, I decide to keep my t-shirt and sweatshirt on as I walk down the stairs. I’m putting extra effort in not letting my inner voice yak and instead focusing on the chirping birds. My inner voice is a bit fearful of the cold water this morning but the birds seem to have a much more positive outlook.

When I get to the beach I feel the water and like yesterday, it does not feel icy cold - just cold.

I set down my backpack on the rocks making sure to set it back far enough to avoid the incoming high 6.1 tide. I discard my shirt and sweatshirt in exchange for my goggles and camera. I turn around and walk into the water.

Surf is up a bit from yesterday and I am pelted by a breaking wave that puts an end to my gradual increase in wetness. I dive under the next wave and now the damage is done. Swim swim swim. The cold takes my breath away - totally normal but it has been months and months since I have felt this sensation.

I head south. We gained an hour of sun this morning falling back into daylight savings so it’s lighter than dawn but the sun still has not claimed the water’s surface from the shade of the nearby cliffs.

I have to constantly remind myself that it really is not THAT cold. It’s not. I mean it’s cold but I have done this cold countless times in the last few years and I am still here to talk (or write) about it. What is interesting is that it is not so much that the physical sensation is so unbearable though it is certainly more challenging, rather I just have this fear that I’m going to die. I create this big drama in my head and I constantly have to remind myself that it is just that.

Sometime I ask myself, what if I stopped swimming until the spring or what if I got a wetsuit. These are sensible questions. The obvious answers are: I don’t get to see the beach throughout the week, a wetsuit seems like a pain to put on (but it is probably not too bad), and I like the direct experience of the ocean. Despite all the internal griping that I do about the cold, which oddly seems to be more than usual thanks to this blog, I do enjoy the cold water. The fear and calm come in interleaving waves. One moment I think I’m going to die or at least feel an internal voice that tells me I am going to die which I generally do not believe with my mind but still experience with my feelings. The next moment, I remind myself to calm down and just let myself be cold and the fear subsides and I can see things are not so bad.

This is a good exercise for me. I have a natural tendency to react to negative issues in my life with extreme emotions. When this happens with truly challenging work or relationships issues, I have come to the point now where I am often reminded of the cold ocean and how relaxing the mind and body puts outside circumstances into a more healthy perspective.

There have been several books written recently about exposing our bodies to harsher environments purposefully with an aim to build resiliency, grit and just remind ourselves that our bodies are amazing and we can do hard thing.

The fact is, I’m bummed that the joy and wonder of swimming in comfortable water is put on hold for 5 months. Ha, I’m grieving the loss of summer. I’ll get over it. In fact I promise that come March, this 60 degree water will feel excitingly warm.

So I keep swimming. The morning is beautiful and I cannot refute that one bit.

The water is much cloudier than yesterday but it is still nice to look at.

When I near my final turnaround point near the bathrooms by the Salt Creek lifeguard tower, about 10 swimmers overtake me and I stop to get some pictures of them.

I finish up the swim. Lo and behold I am not dead. I am not even in a mad rush to get my sweatshirt back on. I take my time toweling off, put on some layers and head up the stairs. There is absolutely no way that I would rather have stayed in bed or engaged in some other non-water exercise.