Who Do I Think I Am?

After yesterday’s Three Arch Bay swim, today’s swim seems so anti-climactic. Or maybe it was just that, given the weather, it felt like the entire swim was in black and white. Strands was pretty grey yesterday too but Three Arch Bay had such vivid color. Anyways, I’m feeling pretty good about not backing out yesterday in hopes of more sun today because that would have certainly lead to disappointment.

I was up late last night with my middle son so a swim was not in the cards for this morning. I swam after church and headed for the Strand from Laguna Beach at about 11:30. The sun was just starting to burn through in Laguna as I left. However right around the Montage Hotel (another one of our local riffraff infested dives), the light on the water shifted from gold to silver and by the time I get to Dana Point, someone had seriously dimmed the luminosity dial.

Thankfully when I get out of the car, it feels quite warm. My phone said it was 70 degrees but it also said it was mostly sunny which was a lie. I’m sure it was mostly sunny about a quarter mile up Selva, but alas, the Dana Dips are not swimmable.

Despite the late hour, the water is super calm. There is neither swell nor wind. Plenty of people on the beach undeterred by the cloud cover. The lifeguard hut says the water is 72. I’m not so sure about that but close enough.

I dip my foot in the water and it feels about the same as yesterday. I feel like the warm water lately has totally spoiled me. I think of colder water in my head and feel this adverse reaction. Well it’s gonna happen sooner or later, but chances are we still have a couple months of comfortable “enough” water and if this year is like last year, then we have even more. One thing I’ve learned from four years of doing this, every year is different.

I get in the water. As I look into my camera, everything looks blue and fuzzy. At first I blame it on the clouds and then remind myself that I am wearing tinted swim goggles that probably have a fair amount of residue on them and also looking through my camera’s water proof housing. These might just be slightly distorting the reality that I am standing in.

I lean in and start to swim. Oh. kind of cool here. It takes about two seconds to realize that it is refreshing. It’s not March cold that literally takes your breath away. It quickly starts to feel a bit warmer. All in all, it’s fricking awesome and I wonder how do I even start to cast judgement on this water? Who do I think that I am?

I’m swimming south today. I need a break after yesterday. However I’m surprised how good I feel. I was so totally wiped out yesterday that I thought I might need a couple days to recover. This doesn’t end up being the case at all. I feel strong over the whole swim.

Water visibility is so so. I can see schools of Corbina every now and then. They look fuzzy. Or is that just my foggy goggles? At the south end of the beach, I look around and everything looks obscured. Then I slide up my goggles and the level of clarity goes up an order of magnitude.

I’m treading water here just in front of the big rock. There really is NO surf here today. Looking north I can see a small hint of blue just east of the bluff. It’s like the sunlight is slowly eating it’s way towards the water but it’s super slow.

I’m delighted that there is basically no northern current holding me back today. This swim feels like it is zooming along so fast - almost too fast. Should I go another lap? No. I want to make sure my adolescent kids are still alive and remind them that they might want to eat. Fact is that they might just be sleeping.

My thoughts seem to match the color and texture of the sky. They feel drab and empty. I stop to assess my mental-emotional state and a flash of feeling blows through me. This happens to me now and again and once the feeling is gone, I just can’t trace it back to its origin. It’s a sensation that creates a sort of temporary impression on the outer shell of my ego. A brief ruffling of my sails. I try to analyze it and it is as though there is nothing to analyze, but I know something was there. Perhaps this breeze is so utterly familiar that it blends in with the background of my thoughts and I can’t find its edges to identify it or give it a name.

Half way down the beach, I stop and it looks like the sun has come a little closer and there is more blue behind the cloud cover above. I’m confident there will not be any drastic changes soon.

I continue north and the next time I pause I’m super close to the end. Boy that went fast. I look to my left (out to sea) and see the Big Bertha buoy. It’s like spotting an old friend. I want to say, “well well, what are you doing here?” However, that question can quickly be answered by the fact that she is tethered to the ocean floor.

I finish up the swim and hardly feel like I have exerted any energy. I get out of the water directly in front of the asphalt road and dodge the oncoming crowd to get to the stairs. It’s hard to tell if the sun will come out at all today. I wonder if it will make an appearance tomorrow.