Sunny Swim with Sunbeam Magic

Today at the lake I got to swim with K, who I haven’t seen since the crazy wavy jumping outing months and months ago. 

I wrote a little chant for us to say before we got in the lake, “We are sea witches, proud and true; we’re going to swim in the lake so blue!”

I am amazed by K, who has no body fat and swims in a thin shorty suit (w/ short sleeves), gloves, and socks. She also wears a regular silicone cap but doesn’t put her head in the water. She must acclimate quickly, because I have double-digit points of excess weight on me (lots of body fat), and I can’t stand the water unless I am sheathed in layers of neoprene and wool. 

GEAR

Today I wore my merino knee pants and my pink merino tee under my suit. I did a better job of scrunching up and gently unfolding the suit up my torso, so I had a better fit than yesterday. I was able to zip myself up! 

But then the gloves. These $%^& gloves are driving me nuts. They are so tight that I can’t get them out without help. I have to put on my suit, but leave the ends of the arms folded up, then put on the gloves. I can’t get them on fully on both hands, so one hand always has a better fit. Then I use the opposite hand to karate chop into the spaces between my fingers in a desperate attempt to get the gloves to move down around my hand. Then I had to ask K to slowly fold and scrunch my left sleeve from wrist to shoulder so I would have a better fit. You don’t want to feel trapped in by the suit. Unfolding it up each limb, the torso, etc, is what I have to do, and with my gloves I can’t do it. So, she helped get me fitted into the suit. Thanks.

OLD BEACH

We got to swim at our regular beach, so that was a treat. I was so excited to be back. There were people out and about in the park, walking, playing at the playground, and tossing a frisbee. I was glad people were active in the beach area because it’s always better to have people around when swimming. 

The only thing I don’t like about this beach is the rock bottom entry. The shallow end is filled with round rocks, which make it impossible to walk into the lake. It’s like a pile of marbles. Everythign shifts under my feet, and I can’t get my footing. In summer I wear grippy FiveFingers shoes and use my came, but with my neoprene socks I can’t wear the water shoes. I also forgot to bring a strap to tie my cane to one of the metal poles, so I had to go at it the best I could without the cane. I think the key is not going too fast or too slowly. We both made it into the chest deep water without falling, so that was nice. 

THE SCENE

We started heading north, parallel to the shore, the snow-covered mountains in full view ahead of us. I’m not that into mountains because they’re just too much work, but they are quite perfect to view from the lake. K was right into her head-out-of-water breast stroke. I was walking and trying to jog/bound a bit, and I had to stop because the rocks made it uncomfortable. I like a longer warm up, but went ahead and started to swim. I took about eight pull-ups before I could leave my face in -score!!-and then I was off. I went back and forth between the pole boundaries, noticing all the familiar rocks and landmarks of the lake bottom. Then we swam out to the cement dock. I was happy to see the sandy lake bottom through some scattered vestiges of dead or hibernating seaweed. It was puce-colored, and I was a little glad. Maybe I’m a bitch, but I just don’t like those corn stalk-like seaweeds. They cover the beautiful sand ridges on the lake floor. 

I wanted to swim south and look for the knife and case I lost this summer, but I didn’t have the energy. From almost the minute I got in the water today I could feel that it was too much. I’m simply not healthy enough to swim two days in a row. I knew I should stop, but I didn’t want to. The sun was shining, and being in the water was like finally getting enough air. It held me and sustained me. Plus, I had a swim buddy!!!

I’d noticed earlier in the day that my lungs were kind of messed up. Usually when I have asthma I cough a lot, and I can feel congestion on the “top” of my lungs (meaning the main airways, or at least that’s how I imagine it…the superficial level), but today I had that choking cough that went deep and across my lungs and felt suffocating, which is an odd way to describe it because I couldn’t get air out. Like I could feel all the small airways all over my lungs clamped down. How could my lungs be so inflamed that I didn’t notice? I didn’t feel tight in my chest, and I wasn’t coughing … until I had that big choking cough. My asthma is really hard to figure out because the past year it expresses itself so differently than in the past. It scares the crap out of me when I have these coughs because I feel like I’m going to die from lack of oxygen. I used my inhaler twice, but still felt like my tiny airways where holding tight. 

I went ahead and packed my bag, hoping in the back of my head that I’d find the plastic bag with my spacer and other inhalers in it. The spacer is key, delivering a fine mist that makes it into those airways. It is not instant relief, but I can feel the difference. I suck it down as far as I can and hold it. When my old allergy doctor first taught me how to use an inhaler (he was always about the spacer, too), he said something like, “breathe it in deep, then hold it, like you’re smoking Mary Jane.” Got it! 

Another hit, then I got busy getting my suit half-way on over my merino. Then I dragged all my gear to the car and headed off to the beach. Two miles. I was actually kind of giddy. 

AQUATIC SUNBEAM MEDITATION THINGY

After swimming back and forth a couple of times and swimming to the cement dock I swam south, thinking of my lost knife and case, then got distracted by the sunbeams. Unlike yesterday when the beams came at me from a different angle so I felt I was swimming under them, perpendicular to them, today I could swim into the tunnel of the beams. I turned around and swam north so I could swim into the end of the beams. I was surrounded by beams, and the tunnel wasn’t a circle but many-sided like a kaleidoscope. Different shades of goldyellowtanmuddyorange. I can’t really remember or describe it because the beams are diaphanous and shimmery but also seem very solid in this weird geometric way that something that is kind of nothing actually has a shape. Substance. 

I decided to float and focus my thoughts and heart into the center of the beams, as if the tunnel came to a point. Not that I could see it. Too many losses this week. Two of my best friends losing brothers, and they had already lost another not so long ago. I floated and watched the sides of the tunnel. The light was gentle, but the beam seemed so powerful. I didn’t try to make sense of it but focussed on opening my heart to give the beam some love for my friends and their lost ones. For K, J. And P. For C, P. And T. For J, R. And three Steves, my friends who died one right after the other over a three-year-period.

I had the idea to turn around 180 degrees and swim up the tunnel to the sun. With each stroke I felt more open, more air, and the sun’s warmth (except not warmth as in feeling warm on me…more of the brightness, seeking light, wanting energy). Then I turned around again, swimming back into the tunnel, thinking I would give the light to the loved ones, alive and lost. I could swim four, five, six strokes (breast stroke—-and keeping head underwater as I do and can do because of my snorkel) and never reaching the center or the end. Suddenly it occurred to me that “who the F was I to think I was giving the Sun’s energy and good juju to the beams? They ARE the sun. What the F am I doing?” 

I went back to floating, allowing all thoughts to also float, drift, ease off my mind. I just wanted my friends not to hurt. I wanted their loved ones to get what they needed to transition. As if I had anything to do with anything or any facility or power to send or give energy/love/sun. 

But floating peacefully and meditating inside a tunnel of sunbeams seemed too lovely and magical to keep to myself. Can’t I share it and be of some help?

I swam back to the cement dock but couldn’t see K. Finally, I saw her pop out from behind one of its legs. Throughout our swim today, in between my mini adventures and observations, I would pop up and look for K. Where is she? What is she doing? Is she ok? When I didn’t immediately see her, then I start again: left to right, right to left, where is she? That minute of not knowing is weird because she’s likely just fine, but there is a tiny part of me that worries. I do this every time I swim with someone. It’s like sighting to swim between my two poles, except it’s an attempt to line up with my swim buddy because I want to make sure she is ok. 

Two kayakers paddled through the swim area!!! K talked to them, but with my hood on, I can’t hear. And with my snorkel in, I can’t talk. I just wanted them out of our space.

NO PANTS

We decided to get out of the water at the same time. K’s phone timer said 29 minutes and 47 secs. Wow. A record for me. Then we tried to do the math. How long after she started timing did it take for us to get in the water, and how long were we talking after we got out of the water before she remembered to check the timer. 

Maybe we swam for 25 minutes. Maybe 20. At the very least 20. Awesome. 

I’m used to swimming at night when I can flail around and pull off my suit and dab myself with my Pack Towl, then pull on layers without a care. Today we were surrounded by people, so I was doing my best not to flash anyone. It was also a bit breezy, so I wasn’t able to keep my modesty layers from blowing off of me. I heard a rip while putting on my new and favorite wool top. It got stuck rolled up high on my neck/shoulders, and I couldn’t get it unrolled. I was yanking at it but could’t reach it or get some purchase on the fabric to actually unroll it and get it off of my skin so I could pull it down. Finally, I managed it. Then the moth-eaten yak wool hoody, then the fleece jacket, then the Honcho Poncho. 

Kind of a bummer because I couldn’t put the wet stuff back on. I removed the yak hoody from underneath the poncho, a real challenge since my limbs where working very well. I tied that around my waist so that when I stood up it would cover my butt. Then I tied my towel around me to cover my front. Still, both items were mini-skirt length. It would have to do because I didn’t have other options. 

I was also starting to get a bit giddy, and it felt really weird to think of traversing the distance to my care NAKED from the waist down. A front flap and a back flap but nothing underneath, between, covering. What if a gust of wind exposed me? What if I got pulled over for speeding? If I told the cop I was freaked out because I didn’t have anything around my bottom would he let me go? What if I froze? These and weirder thoughts rain through my head. 

I got to my car, and of course I’d left my lights on. Now I would have to wait for AAA with no pants. No protection for my most delicate and private parts. I dropped the gear bag behind the car and got in to start it. Thank the sea goddesses; it started. Then back outside to lift the duffel and my cane into the trunk. Why was my duffel so heavy. 

And then it occurred to me for the first time since I started swimming in lakes…duh, the bag is heavy because it’s full of wet neoprene. Really, really beyond time I was home. 

To remove the wetsuit—the top half was off and hanging in front of me like my shadow had fainted and just folded over—I have to sit. So I spread out my little transition mat and got to work on removing my two layer of neoprene socks first. Then I rolled down the legs to my ankles. Then, using both hands, I stretched open the tiny and tight ankle holes and wrestled it around my heel and ankle, and slid it off the front of my foot. Repeated on left leg. The poncho covers my back down to the ground (when I’m sitting), and the Bloncho covers my front. I was able to roll off my wool pants and swimsuit without flashing anyone. But then I realized I had forgotten my pants. WTFF. 

A few minutes later I was in on my rental porch, shaking sand off my neoprene items, then walking over to my landlord’s patio to hang my suit and merino gear on a lawn chair. I got everything put away, then quickly stripped off my layers and jumped into my favorite striped jammy bottoms and my new striped top. I tied my pink striped merino tee around my head, which was still wet, and got under my sleeping back and comforter. I don’t care what the sleep doctors say about using your bed only for sleep or sex. When I’m cold I am getting in bed. Except I get in and lie down on the short side. My legs stick out over the floor, so I put two plastic wooly boxes underneath them. Perfect. 

POST-SWIM HIGH LOW

Then I called my friend E, and let out a lot of giddy. I was high as a kite, and couldn’t stop laughing….or saying, I’m so high. I’m so high. 

It is hard to imagine that in a few hours, or maybe tomorrow….I’ll be back in the lead box, deprived of air, light, and all that feeds me. I used to think it was like a heavy Curtin that dropped down, cutting me off from me and from my life. But it’s a box. It’s full coverage/blockage no matter where I turn. And the lid is on tight.

Swims are brief respites from the box, my body and soul lost in water. I can float, I can breast stroke just under the water’s surface. I am in the water; I am the water. It holds me up.

It takes everything out of me to swim. Now, I have done two swims in two days. I need a few days to recover. It will be full-on rest. No errands, no anything. Because between Stinker and the lead box of depression, everything stops. So now I’m winding down, the spark fading. I will sleep tonight. I need to eat. It’s not even 8pm. Two days in a row of getting up much earlier than usual, taking full advantage of the sun, getting what I want. A break, some air. Funny that water gives me air. But my chart’s a mess, so why not.

Square knobby peg’s gonna watch a movie and get some hot oatmeal with chocy and hazelnuts.

And stripes, stripes, stripes….

listen to the water sounds, see the mountain: