“…the Rays of the Beautiful Sun”

Today at the lake, I swam for 24 minutes!! Technically, it’s more more like 18-20, or less, because I started the timer then had to get into my gloves, which takes a long time, then into the water. Also, it took me time to get out of my gloves so I could turn off the timer. So, maybe more like 15 min. Either way, I felt triumphant. 

Here’s why: I’ve had a really shit week, and I’ve managed to end it on top.

I haven’t slept much this week. A few nights I got a few hours of sleep, a couple nights I didn’t really get any. Then last night, I had acupuncture and managed to get eight hours. That sounds like a lot, but without going into my complex health quagmire….eight for me is like five hours. I need 10, and do best with 12. But whatever. The thing is that I was awake during daylight hours, which almost never happens. I was having motivation issues ‘cause last time I swam the water was colder, so now I know my gear isn’t warm enough. 

While I was pondering this and guzzling tea to try to wake up, one of my besties called and we had a long chat. The isolation I’m still in because of Covid is brutal and crushes my mental health, so getting to talk to one of my favs is like an injection of a magic anti-depressant that works instantly. I was able to come out of myself, I felt connected, and most important, I felt loved. And able to love.

I don’t know why I forget or doubt that I have a lot of people in my life that care about me, love me, whatever, but I guess that is what the depression and isolation do. Depression flattens out my brain so I feel nothing. Nothing comes in, nothing goes out. Depression isn’t a feeling or emotion. It’s a disease, and a f-ing brutal one. I don’t know how to explain it to others because I don’t understand it myself. When I’m talking to a friend I am up; you can hear it in my voice. Connections give me a boost. Sometimes it lasts a few minutes, sometimes it lasts a few hours. Depends on what else happens that day.

Today, the bonus of talking to my friend got a huge boost because after we talked, I swam. Swimming always makes me euphoric for a while. Sometimes only an hour; sometimes a few hours. Here I am, two hours after my swim, and still buzzing…..so that expands my energy and brain enough that I can hold on to the feelings for my friend. I can actually feel fed from our conversation, which is a huge victory because depression robs me of that the rest of the time. Depression numbs everything out so that even when I know I have connections I can’t always benefit from them.  There’s no storage of the good feelings. It’s so fleeting. And it crushes my spirit because I need to be fed on a regular basis. 

Getting ready for the swim is different when I go alone. I try to get as prepared as possible so I can get in the water faster once I get there. 

I put on my swimsuit, then super thin merino wool knee pants, then a merino wool tee, then my wetsuit but only up to my waist.

When I drive in the suit I have to leave the top part hanging from my waist. My wetsuit expert guy told me that it’s not good to drive in your suit because it can put pressure on the zipper and damage the suit. I do what I’m told! Once I get to the lake all I have to do is add my hood (and hope some nice person will zip me up cause I think I’ve gained some weight and can no longer zip up my suit…oh, dear), and my gloves, get my sleeves folded back down over the gloves, get my goggles and snorkel on, put my swim buoy around my waist, add my yellow visibility cap….and waddle into the water. 

Today I was lucky and met a little girl, E, and her mother, M. E was wearing a helmet and had a sweet pink scooter. I commented on it and that she was smart to wear a helmet. I told her I was going to get into the lake and swim if she wanted to watch. She did. Her mom said that this outing was “her therapy,” that she had anxiety. I said to the girl, I have anxiety, too. Sometimes I take medicine for it, sometimes I go to the doctor for it. Her mother said, “we call it ‘her worries.’” I said, “yup, nothing wrong with worries. Everybody has worries.” 

We walked along the path toward the water. I said to the girl, who was pretty shy, “I used to be a little bit afraid of getting in the lake, but I learned more about it, and I went with some people who knew how to do this better than I do, and now I’m not afraid.” 

They decided they would watch me swim, so I was happy because it’s always good to have people around when you get out of the water. I got all my gear on, and waded into the water. It was so flat and quiet. The water touching the shore hardly made a noise. I could see the mountains were out, on the other side of the lake. I could see the water was very clear and, at the same time, murky. I don’t think this beach gets enough water through it because it’s always a bit murky. I don’t know if that’s from the seaweed or the ducks. 

Either way, I couldn’t let it matter because this is safer beach for swimming alone because there’s a walking path that goes right past the beach. 

I waded out to my chest and started walking and bounding across the water. I decided I’d swim between two poles. I think the merino layer helped, as well as the sun, because I didn’t get that slight burn-y feeling on the lower end of my torso that I got last time I swam. 

I put my face in and did a few strokes, then pulled out. Freezing f-ing cold. But I kept trying until I could leave my face in and just swim. It used to take four or five attempts, and the last time I swam (at night) it took about 20 or 30!! Today, I felt like it took maybe 8 or 10, and my face acclimated. Then I just swam between the poles, trying to pace myself and focus on my form.

The sun was shining into the water from my side, so I could see the beam of light cutting through the water. I think it was above my body, so I was seeing it peripherally. I love the sunbeams because they are magic. How is it that I can see different colors for each side/edge. I kept thinking of the lyrics from a Nina Simone song, “…..walk in the rays of the beautiful sun….” What is the name of that song?

Groovy. Chill. I am so relaxed and gliding through the water in the sun. Sunbeam at my side. Seaweed underneath. I don’t care. I’m not cold. Pole to pole.

This beach has nasty seaweed. It’s all fuzzy and overgrown; I couldn’t see the sand bottom. A lot of it had wilted or died because it wasn’t as tall or as dense. Good. I hate it. It’s creepy. I’ve never seen a fish in this part of the lake, but I was kind of hoping I would because A) I’m not afraid of the giant ones anymore, B) I do love teh “I’m just an exploring, eyes trained on the lake floor in case I see treasure or sea life” aspect of swimming, C) I would enjoy telling the little girl that I saw a fish. 

I did a much better job of sighting this time, but still missed the mark a few times and swam crooked. Still, I just swam steadily for 15 or 18 or 20 minutes. Then I floated on my back because it’s the best thing ever to feel weightless with the sun on your face and no thoughts in your head. 

My snorkel got in the water, so I didn’t want to put it back in my mouth and get duck poop germs in my mouth. So I held on my buoy and kicked myself in until it was shallow enough to stand up and walk in. 

TOTALLY f-ing tired. Incredible how tiring it is. Normal people and people who are in shape don’t get that tired. But I do. Once I got on the beach, the lady and her daughter gave me her email on a piece of paper so I could get in touch and see the photos she took!!!

A lady stopped to ask me about my swim. “Isn’t it cold?’ No, I always tell people. No, the wetsuit and gear keep me warm. You could try it, I told her. Then I started the long task of getting out of the wet stuff and into the dry stuff. I’m so much better at it. I put on my weird blanket (that has a head hole) to cover the front of my body while I stripped down to my waist. Then I put on a wool shirt, a yak hoodie, a fleece, and my Honcho Poncho. Then I swiveled the blanket to cover the back of my body. I have to sit to get the wetsuit off because it’s so hard to get the ankles off over the neoprene socks. This time I rolled up the legs, then took off my over socks, leaving on the thin socks since I forget to pack shoes. Then I stripped off my suit and merino knee pants, then toweled off before discreetly pulling on my track pants. 

Wow. F-ing wow. It was still sunny. The mountains were still out. People were walking their dogs, walking with their little kids, enjoying the park. I felt so happy that I got to swim in the sun, that the lady with her daughter talked to me, that I’d had a nice conversation with my friend. Every time I get out of the water I feel like I’ve climbed a mountain or something. 

The amount of energy it takes to drive to the beach, to pack and haul my giant bag of neoprene and blankets and towels, to put on and remove all that gear. And the least amount of time is spent swimming. It all drains me physically. That is how it works with Stinker (the name I’ve given my disease because I don’t feel like naming it because then people think they have answers…and they don’t.) I have poor stamina. It doesn’t take much to wipe me out. I don’t get to be very active. But today, I did it. I swam. And the water was perfect. And my stroke was pretty darn good even with the weird buoyancy of the suit. And I hardly swallowed any poop water. And on the way home, hilariously, this on the radio (shaky video…trying not to drive off the road or run over the children):

And after I got home I got a message from a woman I haven’t done a swim with in months and months. She was going to come to my Friday night swim tonight!!! I hated telling her that I had canceled it because nobody was coming, and I had just completed a glorious sunshine-y swim. So we will swim another night. And I think in a few nights I get to go squid fishing with P.  

I am flattened. I have my veggie chips. I’m gonna watch a movie. 

p.s. I tore the water seal part of my new $50 gloves!!!! WTFF!