swimming

I must have been a fish in an earlier life. I am addicted to swimming laps—a mile’s worth each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Every time I get to the pool, my first thoughts are, “I don’t want to do this. It’s too much work.” But then I get in the water, and start stroking through the first lap. I feel myself suspended in the aqueous turquoise environment surrounding me. My mind goes to another place.

The water keeps me cool as I work my way through the laps. I pay attention to my breathing, feel the muscles of my arms as they churn through the minimal resistance. Flickering patterns of light on the bottom of the pool become my visual focus, and their abstract twinkling is similar to the draw of watching a fire.

After 72 laps—which I can do in less than 50 minutes—I pull myself out of the pool, tired, sometimes shivering a little, and always dripping wet. The endorphins are splashing through my brain and damn, do I feel good! Ready to tackle the world.