Friday On My Mind

15 April 2022 | Sunny | Water 46 F

Today at the lake, it was sunny, it was Friday, it was perfect.

I met my swim buddy again, and finally remembered to bring my extra gloves so she could wear them over her 1mm gloves, which just aren’t warm enough this time of year.

I had a perfect swim, one of my best ever. I was smooth and able to keep up a nice pace. I listened my breathing and swim inside a magnificent tunnel of sunbeams. Between focussing on my breathe and looking into the tunnel I was so relaxed and at peace. The glimmers of the different sides of the beam are so simple. Water as prism. And funny that something moving in the water acts like something fixed, something for me to sight by without stopping swimming. The sun is behind me, so if the tunnel is open at the end (I see more water in the center) and the beams form a circle around me then I am swimming east. No doubts.

Swimming is never easy because I get tired fairly quickly, but I did feel easy in my movements. Not totally strong but able. I know how to pace myself with my breath; years of being a long distance runner don’t just leave you. Part of me wants to swim harder or farther. I know I can’t really push it if I want to stay in for 20 minutes. I accept it.

It’s Supposed to Float

I was testing out a waterproof vinyl pouch, and made the mistake of wearing it around my neck to swim. It’s designed to float, so instead of hanging from my neck and filming my swim it floated up around my neck and got in the way of my arms. I feel like I make these types of mistakes all the time. I don’t think things through. I’m not sure I’m capable of it anymore. My brain doesn’t do what it used to. Anyway, I finally flipped the pouch onto my back so I could swim without interference.

I swam to the speed limit buoy, grabbed the pouch out of the water to film it, then swam south before I turned around and angled my way north and west to the beach.

Pacing and Limits

Heading back to the beach I was still in my zone, or rather, in my tunnel, focussing on my breath and swimming into the sun. I hadn’t heard my alarm go off, but I knew it was time to come in. I’ve been doing this long enough now that I seem to know when to stop, before I go past my limits. I wish I was still young and healthy, or at least healthy, so I could push my limits. With Stinker, I can only do the minimum, and overdoing it costs me dearly. It might appear as more intense fatigue that lasts for days or weeks. It might appear as more disrupted sleep for days or weeks. Some way, I will pay for it. I despite these limits because I am so much more. For now, though, I know a good thing and would rather pace myself and swim three times a week than end up on the couch, unable to do anything. It’s taken me nine months to work up to this level. Not gonna do anything to risk it.

TGIF

After a couple of hard treatment sessions, I was so glad the week was over. No zapping for two days. We had tried to distract me with music on the huge screen TV that hangs on the wall of the treatment room, and it worked. The Who got my through, and it was such a relief that something so easy worked. I resent that I have to do so much work. I have to find hacks. I have to find new ways to think, to focus, to breathe, to use myself to lessen pain, to stop panic attacks, to deal with all the shit with my health. It’s so hard. I can do some of the tricks, but shouldn’t have to. My life shouldn’t be this hard. Also, Pete Townshend kills. I am grateful for him and for The Who. They got me through high school. They got me through college. Quadrophenia alone has been the soundtrack for many flights, train journeys, stuck-in-bed marathons.

The Lake

https://vimeo.com/701130784