Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Swimming: a reflection

Swimming down the lane, after the initial shock of the cold water and the goggle and cap adjustments, the breathing beginning to become regulated, the cramps and soreness of the new strokes worked out. Twenty minutes into the swim, and I feel as if no effort is given, no thinking is being done. I feel as if I should be doing nothing else, that this is all I should ever be doing. Swimming. Through the lighted, blue smoothness, rocking back and forth in bilateral breathing, swishing at the turn, kicking off and gliding, reaching again for water and breath. The kick behind me, a thump, thump of some heartbeat rippling through the water, like amniotic fluid. I swam when I was pregnant, I remember. It has been that long. But here is my same blue swimsuit and red kick board, the dry sauna and hot showers. Here are the lane makers and the underwater bodies, distorted and reaching, the colorful caps bobbing in and out of the water, and the life guard. The bored-looking young life guard, staring past the swimmers, hypnotized by the warm air, the motion and the shimmering water. The water. Warm now, warmer than the air. I don't want to stop. I may not stop. I remember.

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