Behind Schedule

It’s nearly 10:00 and I admit I am not feeling motivated to get in the water right now, but it also seems like the exact thing I should be doing. The foggyish clouds that rolled in late morning last Friday have not gone anywhere. They may have shifted and stirred from time to time, but as I look out my window it is as dreary as can be. It’s not a “proper fog” - meaning that I can see well enough to swim and still see the beach, but everything looks super misty and blurry. Also, it is not warm. There is no trace of warmth whatsoever. It’s not freezing either. It’s about 56 degrees outside with no sunlight and the kind of cold that sticks to your skin thanks to the extra moist air.

Ok, enough complaining. I know I’m not motivated to swim and want to know where my sun has gone, but I DO get my but off my chair and out the door which is really all I need to do to get things moving along. Once I’m out the door, it’s a done deal. I have thoughts of the water being a pool of suffering but I know these thoughts are not true. I know I am going to get in that water and things will be great. The water is still in the 60’s after all. Eventually it will not be. I don’t know when that will happen and we are definitely behind schedule but it will happen. At least I think it will. It has every year since I started doing this but something is always different and maybe this will be the year we skip the 50’s. I’m holding out hope but not holding my breath.

So I drive to the beach and I can just barely see the points on either side of the beach but I CAN see them. They don’t have to be crisp and clear, they just have to be minimally visible. I can see as far out on the water as I will be swimming. I can’t see much farther but I can see far enough. One nice thing is we still have minimal surf. So even if I had to swim close to shore, that’s not a problem.

I get out of my car and head down the stairs. I’m walking more briskly than usual because it’s cold. I almost wonder if I will be warmer in the water than I am now. The water temperature is a few degrees warmer than the air. On my run by the Salt Creek lifeguard tower yesterday, it read 62 degree water temperature. At any rate, I’m really not all that apprehensive right now about getting wet. It just can’t be that much colder than I am right now.

It’s as grey as can be here on the shore but, as always, it is super nice. This is the place I want to be. There is just water and sand and rocks and air all around me and forever. The tide is on the lower end and there is lots and lots of beach. My feet hit the water and it does not feel particularly cold, because my feet are already cold.

I get in the water and walk through some breaking things that I wouldn’t necessarily call waves, but I suppose that would be the correct technical term. Once I am in waist deep, I lean forward and start to swim. It’s cool but quite bearable. I notice how good it feels to exhale. My breath feels warm as it passes through my throat and into my head. It doesn’t feel like there is much to see here. The water visibility is fair and my goggles soon fog a bit - enough to obscure the details of what is in front of me. There is not enough light to illuminate the lines and creases that mark one thing from another.

I eventually get to the south end of the beach. These rocks in this dark light create a landscape that appears so unforgiving but yet wonderful to look at. The tide being low, make my “turn around rocks” stand high above the water. I see something that looks like clumsily applied spray paint on the end of the smaller rock that sits about 10 feet offshore of the larger one. I swim close to where I would never swim in larger surf. What I am looking at is a purple starfish clinging to the side of this rock. I love it. There is a school of small fish swimming just underneath the water.

I look north to get a lock on my next target - the Salt Creek lifeguard tower. It’s just a fuzzy mass or wooden sticks in the foggy distance. I point myself in its direction and start to swim.

Like Friday, it can be a little difficult to keep my bearings as to where I am headed. Sometimes I lift my head and see houses - oops too far to the right. Later I lift my head again and I just see a large silver screen - too far to the left. I right myself until I can see that vertical rock cliff that is dark to the right and white sky to the left. I repeat this meandering several times. I narrow my mind to pierce the center of the cold water. It’s not biting cold but it’s not warm either. It’s not comfortable but it is very tolerable. That is totally ok with me. I don’t do this to be comfortable, though it’s nice when it is. This is a road that needs to be traveled regardless of the conditions (just as long as they are relatively safe). I truly appreciate whatever the water gives me.

Here I am at the north end of the beach and now it’s time to finish up the swim. I am looking forward to warm clothes and drink. I head to where I started and then keep swimming when I get there. For the last several swims I have been finishing just parallel to the base of the concrete ramp. This is doable thanks to the small surf but today given the low tide, I stand myself up and there are some large rocks around me and it is hard to tell where exactly they all are and I decide to swim back upshore just a few yards to where I know it is completely sandy.

I get out of the water and I feel much warmer right now than when I got in. I doubt the air temperature has warmed more than a degree or two, but after being in the water, the air feels sort of numb. My skin doesn’t feel much of anything right now. However my heart is full.