The Quantum Nature of Spatial Hydraulics

An amazing thing happened today - I went swimming in the ocean! It’s been nine days since my last swim. Got sick then busy then rain and on and on. Finally today a window of opportunity opened up and I managed to get wet.

I left the house at about 10:15 and it was a beautiful sunny morning. Not warm but getting close. Boy this Winter has been a cold and wet one! I’m looking forward to some not so cold and wet ones ahead. Ten years ago I would have relished this weather but I have been transformed I guess.

Despite what the headlines may lead one to believe, there have been no blizzards here at the beach. I saw this article a couple days ago of a house with palm trees covered in snow and the headline read something like “Los Angeles blanketed in record breaking snow.” Well the photo caption mentioned that it was taken in Rancho Cucamonga (not even in LA county). That is NOT Los Angeles. Yes it is rare for Rancho Cucamonga to see snow but the northern edge of the city sits in the foothills of the San Bernardino mountains and I can easily imagine snow falling there at least once a decade and it probably melted 20 minutes after the photo was taken.

Then again…there is this photo I took at Doheny last week! It’s not snow. It’s hail but it looks like it could be snow if you didn’t know better maybe. I took it on a run that started sunny and then THIS happened for 20 minutes and then it got sunny again.

Anyhoo, I’m obsessing over the entire drive about how crazy it is to go swimming in this water. Like the air, the water is colder this year compared to previous years and thinking of it getting any colder seems crazy. Then I start thinking about the Alki Beach swimmers in Seattle - my beacon of hope and proof of what is possible. Then I just try not to think at all - my pro tip for nearly every endeavor.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is going to be great. I have been feeling a growing emptiness inside me that can only be filled by ocean water. The thought of being in the water seems on one hand totally nuts and unbearable and on the other completely cathartic.

I get to the parking lot and the water looks very bumpy. Not choppy at all. This is fine. I’ll take what I can get. The sun is shining and I can begin to feel its warmth. Things are looking good here.

I reach the beach and it looks like there has been another mass migration of sand out to sea. Not quite as dramatic as the one in January but there are a lot of rocks covering the beach and once I hit the water, it’s a technical scramble over several boulders hiding just below the shallow surface.

I start swimming well east of the surfline because it’s just easier than walking. The surf is steady but small and I just paddle my way through. It’s a relatively long stretch to get past the waves today. They are breaking pretty far out side due to the shifting sand. Once I am finally clear of the white water it is still pretty bouncy out here.

It is cold but maybe not as cold as I feared it might be. It’s probably the same as my last several swims - which is COLD - but I have growing confidence that I will survive to write this post. Spoiler alert - I do just that!

On the trip down the stairs and in the early parts of my swim I am telling myself, “It’s ok to end early.” Because it is. However as the swim progresses it becomes clear that will not be necessary.

I feel good. The water is super cloudy through most of the swim. There are a few spots where the cloudiness seems to give way briefly and the water feels like it gains some warmth. My body temperature stabilizes about 10 to 15 minutes into the swim and remains north of uncomfortable for pretty much the entire swim.

My mind remains in the swim today. There is some residual music playing in my head but I am mainly focusing on remaining inside this bubble of cold water that encases my mind and keeps it in this welcome space of emptiness. It’s an empty in the most positive sense. It’s not like a black hole that consumes all surrounding matter but rather a creative center of being that gives birth to form.

With each breath my vision emerges from the water and watches as the surrounding clouds, blue sky, and the rising and falling wakes of water rise from this void resting in my heart.

Before long I see the bathrooms approaching near Salt Creek. How did I get here so soon? I head back south now to where I began. As I swim in, I know that the best approach to shore will be to just keep swimming until I am practically at the water’s edge. This turns out to be a pretty good plan. About 5 feet from the dry sand, I intersect with the larger boulders tht seem to act like a hedge just a few inches below the surface. I just float here in a sort of breast stroke and let the waves push me over the top. Finally I am on the gravel and struggle to get on my feet aware that I look like a bit of a spectacle.

I make it to my pack and drying off and putting on my sweatshirt feel like a separate workout all together. Just how difficult can it be to get my arm through this sleeve. Fairly difficult actually. As I ascend the ramp to the stairs I strike up a conversation with a couple I see every now and then. I feel like I am babbling. I’m trying to explain the sandbar situation out there and what should be a simple description of sand, waves, rock and water feels like a graduate seminar on the quantum nature of spatial hydraulics, which is super complicated because I don’t even know what that is.