Well we made it to February. Only about two more months until the water temps head back up. I can assure you they have not started to climb this week.

Well what the ocean lacked in warmth today it gained in beauty. What a beautiful morning at the beach today.

I left at about 10:30. As I pass Doheny, the water looks super still and inviting. It looks the same from the parking lot at the Strand.

I’m heading down the stairs and things are definitely warming up since earlier this morning. The last couple mornings I wake up in the low 40’s. This Winter seems consistently colder than the last couple Winters.

When I get to the beach, the tide is pretty low. It is probably nearing about a foot. I can immediately tell that the sand is migrating back to shore. It still has a good ways to go before reaching normal but today my feet are able to find a sandy spot for every step.

The water feels cold to my feet. This last week, the water had found its Winter. It’s not necessarily the coldest water I have swam in but it can’t be far off.

As I walk out into the water, I am again noticing the reshifting of the sand. What was once a stomach deep rocky trough is now probably knee deep at its deepest point and it is much much sandier. I easily make it past the surf line on my feet.

The sun feels so good and I’m hesitant to take the dive but why prolong the inevitable? I push off and let myself glide over the water. Man it is cold but I don’t seem to suffer the initial shock. I do feel my energy dip lethargic for a couple minutes and then it rebounds gradually back to normal.

My whole body feels this electric charge snapping against my skin. Whenever I envision this moment while I am warm and dry (or cold and dry…especially cold and dry) I imagine this is the worst thing possible one can do. The vision of that moment of total immersion just seems so horrific. Fortunately it is not that way at all in reality and I guess that is why I keep coming back. I just know that its not going to be terrible even though that thought seems to defy all logic.

So here I am and I am aware that the water is super cold. It feels super cold against my face particularly but I remain perfectly functional. It takes several minutes but I eventually do feel that warm glow I often experience. I think to myself, if only the entire swim could feel like this, it would be a piece of cake. I know it is likely going to taper off as I continue.

But what a gorgeous day! There are no clouds in the sky. The water surface is smooth. The water is somewhat clear.

As I near the southern end of the swim I notice that the waves are breaking far outside here. They are not particularly big. This must be the result of more shifting sand and it is likely shallower than normal here. I need to veer west to avoid the breaks.

I turn around and watch as my mind anticipates the creep of the cold. Why can’t I just enjoy this comfort I have now? It seems like I expect misery to lie at the next stroke of my arm.

I just keep moving because that is the only thing I can do. I focus on staying relaxed and if I can’t extinguish the anticipation of misery, the next best thing is to at least observe it. The observation puts distance between my present sense of self and the feeling I only imagine to be imminent.

In one sense I think I’m a rather fearful person. I treat these swims as a form of exercising a muscle of confidence and perseverance and trust. I have a bedrock of past experience I can trust. I have not suffered injury. My body is capable of doing this. I am capable of facing this challenge and reaching the end.

This is sort of like meditation on steroids. Even though now that I think of it “meditation on steroids” is a really odd metaphor. In this cold I have a sort of real-time bio feedback loop wired into my thoughts and my breath. As my breath steadies and my thoughts calm, my body relaxes and the cold (or the idea of cold) works its way free from fear. I am acutely aware of this all as it happens. More and more, I find myself reflecting back to my time in the water as I face real-life challenges on shore.

It’s time to get out and it looks like someone has planted himself and his chair exactly where I stashed my backpack (I am sure unintentionally). He asks me how the water temperature is. I decide not to sugar coat it. “It’s a bit chilly out there” I say.