I started off the morning with a 7 mile run up to the hills above San Juan and San Clemente and then left for the beach at about 8:30.

Earlier in the morning I could see some sun poking through the cloud cover and the wind was calm according to the Surfline data. I was tempted to swim earlier and run later but I really prefer to run first thing. I just want coffee after I swim and I know it will be harder to motivate myself to run afterwards. Besides, what’s the harm in a little wind and clouds? I try not to think of this too much because it is really bringing out my exercise OCD. Like a sensible person might say to themself, lets swim INSTEAD of run and maybe actually do something else with our time on a Saturday.

Well as I leave for the beach, the wind levels are still reporting as minimal and I can kind of see bits of blue sky here and there so it’s all good.

As I cross the San Juan river mouth on PCH, I see several surfers on nice rides at Doheny. Doheny almost always has a good crowd of surfers and while the surf is always smaller it almost always seems consistent. It might be tiny but it is almost always breaking.

When I get to the Strand parking lot, the water seems pretty textured but no chop. There is indeed some blue sky but you have to look for it. It’s not quite as obvious as yesterday.

I leave my pack in the car today. I feel warm and it just seems silly to lug this thing down when I’m sure I’ll just walk right up without toweling off after today’s swim. Ahh, summer is pretty much here. I do like the freedom of heading to the beach with only goggles and camera in hand. Sure it’s a small thing but I’ll hype it up im my head as though it is really significant or something to give myself a little extra dopamine.

I get out of the car and head for the stairs. If I tilt my body in just the right angle or obscure yoga posture, I can feel the warmth of the sun.

I pass the non operational funicular. Yesterday’s Dana Point Times came with a copy of the Dana Point Visitor’s Guide. It had a little blurb on Strands: “take the funicular down to the picture-perfect, sandy beach.” Who is proofing this copy? Nobody will be taking that funicular anywhere this season.

As I approach the beach I can see a nice set of waves roll in. It definitely looks bigger than the 3-4 feet reported on Surfline. Not by much.

For some reason the water feels colder on my feet today and I wonder if I will regret leaving my pack. I have gotten into the habit of looking at the real time buoy data. Even though it’s temperatures that are taken 20 miles south might not match this beach, I figure the overall pattern of rising and falling temps should match and things have been coming up about a degree a week over the last couple weeks. I remember last year that Memorial Day was the point in the season when the water went from being on the cooler side to truly comfortable. This year the numbers are definitely on the lower side and this Memorial day weekend is not shaping up to be a game changer as we keep to the May grey low to mid 60s.

I get in the water and it’s not bad at all. My feet must just be cold today. It feels good out here.

I start to make my way south. There is definitely some current in this water but its good. Very little visibility.

I’m focusing on my breath. I catch my mind thinking of the end of the swim as a goal or destination. I continually let go of that idea and envision this swim as an eternal activity with no end at all. It’s easier to drop the idea of destination if I simply eliminate it. I am here right now. I am swimming in this water and I always will be. That becomes my identity. I am only here to breath in and out into the water. My arms and legs have no other purpose than to propel me forward. And in all of this, there is solace.

When I turn around to head north, I face an endless expanse of puffy clouds beneath clouds. There is one in particular that is well defined and bright white. I imagine it is akin to God’s presence that lead the Israelites by day through the wilderness, and it leads me now to the Salt Creek lifeguard tower. Maybe if I keep swimming into the night, I’ll find a pillar of fire. Was it a “pillar?” Or am I confusing that with the pillar of salt that became the fate of Lot’s wife when she looked back onto burning Sodom and Gomorrah?

Man what great stories those all are. I remember when I read the book of Genesis for the first time in decades a few years ago it dawned on me how much the book and really so much of the bible is about faith. I guess that should not be a shocker. But reading it through 50 year old eyes, it rings true with my personal experience. It seems like what we choose to place our faith in shapes our destiny. When we lose sight of hope, our world can fall apart. We become pillars of salt or we lose our footing on the water and sink.

I think about this a lot. Often the next natural impulse is to cling to faith itself and make it this “thing” to hang on to. We then forget what our faith was in in the first place and just see the act of faith as some goal. It becomes prosperity gospel or new agey Law of Attraction. Things start to get all weird and manifesty. Some might “name it and claim it” and start shaming others who don’t name and claim with the same zeal. I have to think that faith is not just a “life hack.” I also don’t think it is the opposite of doubt. I think true faith welcomes doubt. Allowing ourselves to doubt is not the same as losing faith however if we resist doubt for long enough it may be easier to just drop the faith.

Like anything true in this sense, it is hard if not purposefully impossible to pin down. The best I can do is just keep swimming. For right now, I’ll commit to swim forever and ever and ever in this eternal ocean.

As I move further north, the water seems to calm just a bit and I find myself swimming through large floating patches of kelp. I’m trying to keep myself from swimming further out. The current seems to be guiding me west. Or is it that cloud?

A boat motors just inshore of me and I feel the water stir from its wake.

Well here I am just in line with the bathrooms and it is time to turn around. I enjoy the view of the houses on the bluff. When the destination is so close as it is now, my mind relaxes and is not so easily attached to the end. I head back to shore and soon find my hands hitting the sandy bottom. I stop and stand up but a wave close behind breaks and knocks me down. I get back up and walk to dry sand and then notice my trunks are covered in sand. No matter.

I walk back up the stairs and soak in this peaceful, grey morning.