I Can Swim When I Want

Today at the lake…it was pouring rain. I didn’t care because I was antsy to swim. I convinced my friend to join me at the beach: she would walk loops on the mini walking path loop while I swam. We both get exercise. 

I have no idea what the temperature was….but I think it was one of those “feels like 37 F” days. I didn’t realize how hard it was raining until I left for the lake, but I wasn’t bothered a bit. When you run cross country age 11 to 22, you learn that the workout is gonna happen no matter the weather. Only lightening is a reason not to go out. 

I got to the lake first; I needed time to get on my hood, get zipped in, get on my gloves, get my buoy on. I was so excited to see from the parking lot that there was someone already in the water! I wondered if it was M or her neighbor, M, who I met here months ago. 

Anyway, C arrived, and started videotaping me and the water. I do like to keep a video record of my swims and the lake conditions. The water was pretty flat, so that was good. I didn’t even feel or think about or see the rain because I was so excited to get in the water. Doubly excited someone was already there. 

Hey, Swimmer

I made my way through the shallow water, and took turns dunking into the water and swimming breast stroke toward the other swimmer. We said “hi.” Then he reached the pole on the N side of the swim area, and said it was my turn. He was ready to get out. We exchanged names, but I have already forgotten his. He was swimming with his head out of the water, wearing a thick winter hat. He has a friend, C, he swims with. I told him he should find my FB page and message me. Also, he didn’t have to. But I like the idea of swimming in groups. More fun, safer, easier to find motivation. Why should the group that swims in the sound have all the fun! 

Treading water and talking to the other swimmer was nice, but it messed up my routine. And because of that, I got cold. I didn’t have the energy or time to slowly acclimate my face. I just did one, two, three, four, maybe five starts and just had to keep moving toward the south pole. (Lol. The pole located at the south end of the swimming area.) I was breathing heavier than usual, and having a hard time settling into a pace. I usually find rhythm and just do my stroke and breathe evenly, and then I can autopilot for 20 min or so. 

A Little Bit Off

Today was a little bit of fits and starts. I had a pass between the poles where I was gliding, watching the seaweed (which was actually not very visible since it was late in the day, dark), breathing. I had a pass where I was breathing too hard. I switched to flutter kick and doggie paddle with my arms. I have to keep my head in teh water because of the snorkel, and I can’t do crawl or water seeps in through the neck. Plus, it’s a lot harder. I had a pass where I was able to st—r—e—t—ch and coordinate my arms and legs. I could feel the muscles in my upper arms working. I actually have a little bit of definition in my upper arms now. Weeeeee. 

I was doing two types of sighting. One, trying to stay on course between poles (I always seem to drift off into the waves and out farther in the lake…..is this because my right side is stronger than my right? I actually have demyelination in my spinal cord and significant weakness in left hand and leg. Could that be it? I must find someone to ask about that. I would think that swimming would balance out my strength.) Two, I was looking up to see my orange poncho-ed friend, C, walking the laps of the path. Like a Sri Chinmoy meditation. Running a marathon around a 1-mile loop course. 

Today was no marathon for either of us, but I liked looking for her and that she was easy to spot. We were both on our respective paths, moving forward. Moving. I loves swimming, and it is a solitary activity. When I’m in the water alone, I am part of the water, the lake. But I am used to exercising with a team, so I need to sight every so often to make sure my walking buddy or swimming buddy is ok. 

How to Measure It

I don’t know about other people but as a former athlete I like to know how much work I do. I swim between the poles because I can quantify my swim – I did 4 laps between the poles. Or, I swam for 20 minutes. I record it but never look at my log. But I have to keep track. Old habit. I don’t care at all what the distance is, but knowing how long I exercised really helps me. I just ordered an alleged waterproof stopwatch. I hope it will work. With gloves on I can’t use a wristwatch, so I hope the buttons on the stopwatch are large and that it is actually waterproof. I can start it when I get in, hang it around my neck, and stop it when I leave the water. It’s also good to have an idea of how long I’m in the water. With temps around 37 F, maybe 20 should be the max. Certainly 30 min, although I have’t yet stayed in that long. 

I never got really dialed in today, and that chill from talking to the other swimmer was lurking around in my body, waiting to slug me. I had another pass that felt off. I was breathing too hard. I should see my friend, C, in her bright orange poncho, at the beach and wondered if she was filming me or wanting to go home. I did one more pass, then swam in. Always, always have to listen to my body. Another 10 minutes in the water aren’t worth it if I get funked up and then can’t swim for a few days. 

Wet Off, Dry On. Dry On.

We walked up to the parking lot. I did a quick top strip and got my warm layers on, leaving my wetsuit on, but the top unzipped and rolled down to my waist. Zipped home, then wrestled off my suit in the entry way. Then I got in the shower. I usually never shower after cold water swims. It’s better to bundle up and get warm. But I couldn’t remember the last time I actually used soap or shampoo, so I got a good scrub. Then I got into bed. The best way to get warm is to be naked under a sleeping bag. Then I chatted with C on the phone, then put on socks, undies, my track bottoms, my fav purple adidas top, and an ugly too-tight wool sweater, and my pink Kuhl hat, which is my all-time favorite hat. It’s my post-apres hat. 

The clothing is reversed when I’m getting out of the water. First thing-hat. Warmest hat I own. Then yak wool hoody (f the moths who ate holes in it), then the Cotopaxi fleece jacket, then the Blancho, then the Honcho Poncho. Then shut the trunk, and drive home. Or, if I have time, I sit on the transition mat and take off my second-layer neoprene socks, then roll the suit off and wrestle out my feet. Then peel off the firs-layer neoprene socks. Then track pants (no underwear. There is not time for underwear in OWS. This is how we roll.). then, this is where I usually realize I have forgotten to bring shoes and socks. Sometimes I find socks in my car. Today I left everything from waist down on, so drove home in my neoprene socks. Note to self: I need some of those slide gym sandal thingies in a size or two too big so the neoprene fits. I’m tired of walking around in the socks, then my feet are wet and cold before I even get in the lake. 

The New Hack

As for depression. I am happy to report that I had two good days this week. I attribute this to my new hack. I get acupuncture on a Thursday night, and it knocks me out. I fall asleep at 1 or 2 am instead of 5am or 8am. I also sleep hard, like 12 hours. Then I get up by 2 or 3 pm, drink tea or chai. Then I ride that caffeine buzz to the lake.  I can’t do it every day, but so far, for two weeks, I can kind of make my sleep/swim work for each other.

The euphoria after is sublime. Sometimes it lasts an hour, sometimes two. Then I’m tired. My body is tired. My eyes feel heavy. Today I’m at the end of the boost. I’m really wiped out. That chill I got from lingering to talk to the swimmer when I wasn’t warmed up is pressing against me. My feet feel cold. My brain is slipping.

I wanted to talk about how I had two “good” days this week….where I was…..happy. I HATE saying that. Happy is not the opposite of depression. Happy isn’t even the goal. Happy feels like a trick, a trap. I just want to function. I just want to not have suicidal ideation. And I did that. I didn’t once think, “I gotta get out of here,” “I’m leaving,” “I can’t bear this any longer.” I just felt sort of happy, still shaky like it could end at any time. I didn’t have the bandwidth or energy to think beyond the surge of post-swim giddy, because I know the darkness there. I have to live one hour at a time, one minute at a time. 

The giddy is a brief respite from the lead box, cage, the dark pit, whatever it is. It feels dangerous to want anything more at the time. And hope is not even in my vocabulary. Not for myself or for this fucked up country (that’s another blog post or 100). I hate hope. I’m mad at hope. I can’t do it anymore because it is too hard to get crushed and fail after having had it. Too many fails, and it’s just not somewhere I can go. 

And still with all this, I did have two days that were lighter than anything I have experienced in at least two years, probably longer. I worked hard to keep it in the moment because I could sense the edges. The darkness was still close. I didn’t want to jinx anything or kid myself. So I just tried to notice that I felt lighter, I felt a speck of “possible.” Maybe that is hope, but please don’t tell me it is because it is SO OVER between me and hope.

Tiny Respite

For now, I’m all about the hack. Needles, sleep, swim. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Freedom

Sometimes a little change, a different perspective makes all the differences. I was so set on swimming with others that I was missing out on swimming. Now I’m swimming alone. I can do this because I’m getting up early enough to make it to the lake during daylight hours. IT feels amazing to have the control back. Instead of waiting to find swim buddies I’m trying to swim when other people are using the beach and park. It’s safe enough. I still hope to swim with others, but in the meantime I’ve been enjoying getting in the water.