Into the Deep End

Under the clear blue water, I watch the neat stripe of green tiles curve slowly as they descend into the deep end.  I hear only my breath and the faint sounds of my limbs disrupting the surface of the water.  I feel only the coolness that surrounds me, the burn in my muscles and the pounding of my heart.  I think only of the mechanics of my movements; no extraneous thoughts distract me.  I have become a swimmer.  I don't claim to be very good at it, but I've recently come to the conclusion that if you are doing something regularly, you earn the right to attach it to your identity.  

Give me a yoga or pilates mat any day, but put me in a pair of running shoes and I'll run straight to the couch.  I simply don't enjoy most forms of cardiovascular fitness. The thought of working out amidst a sea of exercisers, bobbing up and down on stairsteppers, eliptical machines and treadmills at the gym (check out Out of My Comfort Zone for the story of my gym-joining fiasco), is enough to make me head for the nearest exit. So, thinking that swimming might be a better option, I began taking adult lessons in October.  I already knew how to swim, at least I did when I completed my lessons at the age of 14, but since it had been 20+ years since I'd actually propelled myself down the length of a lap pool, I thought I could use a refresher course.  Getting into the water for that first trial of crawl stroke under the watchful eye of my instructor was a feat in and of itself, but I discovered that it was kind of like riding a bike.  I did sort of remember how.

After a couple of months of lessons and reading on the subject, I have been swimming laps on a regular basis (except for a little hiatus in December...).  It is very hard work, but rewarding in ways that I would not have guessed.  You can't fake it in the pool, its just plain painful when you're out of practice (it is still painful each and every time for me), but you can really see your progress.  As I count the tiles at the end of the lane to keep track of  my laps, I'm amazed to see my numbers grow with each workout.  That sense of accomplishment is a gift in the midst of my harried days with the kids.  When I get to the end of most days, I realize that I didn't finish what I set out to do - it seems I make efforts in every direction, but don't end up completing anything.  I know that this is a side effect of life with small children, but it slowly chips away at my sense of self worth.  On the days that I swim, I have one little achievement to tuck away in my mind and draw strength from when I'm feeling defeated.

But for me, the most seductive part of swimming is the quiet.  No one is talking or whining or screaming or pulling on me.  There is no technology to distract me - my iphone is safely locked away.  Its just me in my unflattering fitness suit, blue swim cap and goggles.  And for the first time, I don't really care if anyone is watching me.

I have found my bliss in the quiet blue water.  Where will you find yours?