This and That

I left about 8:15. The skies are overcast but there are hints of blue in the clouds. Some almost look liquid as if they could just blow into mist and give way to clear sky. I’m blowing as hard as I can but the clouds remain.

In the parking lot there is a good sized group - about 30 people - that look like they are gathering to take a walk or hike. As I walk past them, the energy is high and the volume not necessarily loud but not quiet.

It feels like there is a lot of light in the air. While it is totally clouded over, it feels like sunshine is imminent. There are about half a dozen boats sitting on the water between the North Star buoy and Salt Creek. The water is a glassy and reflective greyish blue. All looks well.

As I touch down onto the beach, there is a group of swimmers making their way back from Salt Creek. They are just about to make their way to shore by the time I am heading out into the water. There really is no measurable surf in the water and the temperature is the same delightful warm that it has been for almost two weeks now.

I’m swimming north today and as I make my way out into jr. lifeguard buoy territory, their are still swimmers making their way south. Wow, it’s a big group today. And why not? The conditions are perfect.

I swim and swim and swim and I feel real good. One moment I am thinking of the end and visualizing that cup of coffee I am going to have - in fact the one I am drinking right now - and the next I am just right here in the water and resolve to stay here forever. I think one of the challenges of staying with the moment that I have on a swim is the fact that I feel like I am swimming somewhere because I am. There is a specific point where you turnaround and come back and then move on with your day. I am moving from here to there and become attached to the there. Once I am there then I can do the next thing, but alas, there is always a next thing yet I am never ever actually doing the next thing. I am always doing this thing. So here I am in the water trying to get lost in this thing because really that is all there is and that (or I suppose “this”) is what is actually happening.

As I progress northward, the light seems to be dwindling and the morning grows darker, which is fine. It is very pleasant. I pause and look north to the tip of Monarch and it feels like this water is a warm blanket keeping my body comfortable. Soon I am nearly to the beach club - just a little short - and I figure this is a good time to turn around.

I have the shore in my sights the whole way back and I pick out specific trees, buildings and other features to use as a focal point. For several minutes…or maybe just a couple…or maybe just one…who knows, that point is all there is and my goal in life collapses into that single point. There is no other tree than that tree. I don’t even know how it is that I transition from one point to the next. Somehow another point just emerges and the previous point might have well never been. Maybe it never was. Heck, now that I think of it, did this swim even happen?

By the time I cross back over the point to the Strands side, I can hardly believe the swim is almost done. I swim close to shore. There is nothing breaking out here. Eventually it’s time to turn left and I swim until I can feel my fingers brush the sandy bottom and then I get up onto my feet.

I head back up to the stairs and shower up top. The water feels warm. On the way home I follow a surfer in a white Toyota pickup who left the same time I did. He has his wetsuit hanging outside from his side view mirror. I have noticed this is a popular wetsuit drying technique. We are nearing the harbor and I wonder if he is going to get on the freeway. At what point does this all break down and you have a wetsuit flying through the air and landing on another vehicle’s windshield? Well I lost track of him, distracted by the view of the cliffs along Capo Beach. Hopefully the wetsuit is dry now.