Outside the Swim Lane
I left the house at about 6:45 and started off with a 4.5 mile run from the Strand to the harbor and back. I just love that final stretch of the run up Cove Road. This is not sarcasm, which I usually partake of liberally.
I change into my swim trunks and trot on down the stairs. It’s not really any warmer out this morning than yesterday’s swim, but with that run behind me, my core is all revved up and I easily handle whatever cold is here.
When the beach comes into view, I see about a half dozen swimmers laying down their final strokes as they head in towards shore from their swim to Salt Creek. The leader of the pack basks in the water just at the line of surf and we wave to each other. I intersect with the others on my way out and we exchange a quick greeting.
It’s another stellar morning with a smooth ocean surface, a blue sky and a new sun just over the headlands. Everything looks so clean and sharp and fresh.
I head south and the water looks and feels pretty much the same as yesterday. Maybe just a little bit clearer perhaps thanks to the fading NW swell.
My mind wants to wander and be just about anywhere but here. It wants to jump ahead to the end of the swim and walk up the stairs and get on with its day. It wants something it doesn’t have right now but it’s not exactly sure what that thing is so it just iterates over a litany of possible options. It tries to go back in time and undo the things that have been immutably done.
I am repeatedly leading my mind back to the water. I settle my thoughts on the sensation of the water moving over my skin. Am I cold? Am I warm? Am I something in between? This sense of being in the water is like a stone that wants to be polished. I rub it and rub it over the entire swim. If I can feel this stone in the hands of my thoughts then I must be here. There is a space in this stone that offers complete equanimity. It moves around like a bubble of air in a sphere filled with liquid. I think I find it and then the stone shifts and the bubble moves and I am wandering elsewhere once again.
When I reach the northern end of the beach near the end of the swim, I look up and all of the sudden as if from nowhere appear a group of about a dozen kayakers. They are right here. They yell out that I have lost the swim lane. I don’t get it. What language is this? Swim lane? Is there such a thing and am I bound to remain inside of it and I am only finding out now? Is this the sole reason for their kayaking expedition? To come out and let me know? I repeat the phrase back to them hoping for an explanatory response. They say, “you know…like a pool.” Then the meaning, the humor and absurdity all collapse in on my brain and I do get it and yell back “oh right!”
As we part ways, a straggler kayaker yells out, “you’re crazy!” Perhaps, but I respond, “no it’s great!” Because it is. I’m sure the water is at least 10 degrees warmer than they think it is. Especially on these cold mornings, I’d bet folks assume it is freezing. I know I would if I wasn’t watching the hourly buoy temperature readings like some kind of a freak.
I finish off the swim and then make my way back up the stairs. I pass many in overcoats or sweats or some kind of sensible outer shell. These strike me as appropriate attire until I hit a little patch of sun on the path. I want to linger in these patches for a while but there is just no time.
I get to the top and rinse off in the shower. There is no hot/cold setting here. You get whatever comes out and I have noticed over the past weeks of doing this that the first two seconds always feel delightfully warm. Today I notice something else. The shiny metal column that houses the shower heads is right in the sun and captures its heat beautifully. I rest my hands on it and soak in the warmth. I wonder - would it look weird if I fully embraced it with my arms and wrapped my legs around it?
