Monday, August 30, 2010

The Silence

It is an inward battle; knowing that I need to and in some slight way, even want to, go to the pool to swim. I know that it will be good for me. I know I need to practice swimming and improve. I know that I'll feel better once I do it instead of procrastinate.

But that did not stop me from waiting a whole hour before finally deciding to go.

I took way too long packing up my bag. All I really needed was flip flops, a swimsuit, a borrowed swim cap from David that says Wildflower Long Course on it, and his pair of goggles because I like them better than the pair I've been using. Oh, I also use some higher end conditioner because with all this swimming, my hair feels like straw. All this fit neatly into my new workout bag, given to me by David, courtesy of his SF Triathlon at Alcatraz race from yesterday. It's a perfect size bag and I really like it.

As I get in my car, there is an overwhelming desire to go and do anything but swim. Maybe I could go shopping. Or visit a friend. Perhaps a few errands.

But I head to the gym.

Once there, I'm still thinking of excuses! Maybe I'll go work out on a machine. Someone suggested the elliptical. That sounds good and I don't have to get into a wet, cold pool.

Instead I slowly put on my swimsuit and head out to the water, almost hoping all the lanes would be full. They aren't. Only one swimmer is in the water.

I stand at the edge...... knowing there is no turning back but almost wishing there was. Wishing that my work out buddy was there so I'd not have to consider fleeing. I think of her, recovering from surgery and realize that someday there might be a chance I'll be unable to swim. That choice could be taken away from me, and then I'll wish I had used the time to do all those things. I recall watching the triathlons with folks that are blind or with other hardships. I have no health concerns or hardships and yet, I do nothing.

I don't want to do nothing.

So I take a deep breath and...... put my legs in the water. It's not really cold but colder than I wish. I ease in a bit more and finally, all the way, knowing that it is best to just get it over with.

After three or four strokes I start to enjoy it. After four laps I am struggling but remind myself to relax. The more I relax, focus on breathing, where my arms are, and kicking, the more it becomes a bit easier and more enjoyable to me. By lap 10 I'm tired but figured out my pace and now I'm finally beginning to enjoy the silence.

The Silence.

As much as it took to get in the pool, I enjoy the silence. I wonder if I'm beginning to crave The Silence. There's a part of me that is solely focused on exactly what I'm doing, but sometimes my mind starts to wander about other thins. The only constant is this strange sound of silence and water and bubbles and effort.

I keep going. There once was a time I thought 20 laps was good. (10) But now I'm getting better and don't feel I'm doing much until I do at least fifty. Then I try to get out of the pool and it is difficult and I hurt.

So I sigh and am happy, and hope that tomorrow I won't have to convince myself that I enjoy this. I do enjoy this, so why is it so easy to forget that I like this?

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