3mm Makes All the Dif

Today at the lake …the Sea Witch is f-ing back. 

Wow. What a difference a wetsuit makes. I got back in the water today, and tried to rock it. The new gear made all the difference. I was hoping for a calm, flat water day, but I knew before I left for the lake (I realized today that I can see it from my front yard) that it was going to be rough water. Whatever. You can’t wait until conditions are perfect, or even decent, or you’ll never go. 

I was excited to finally get back in the water, AND two women from the plunge group said they would join me. One women I have met a few times, the other I was meeting for the first time. I was so happy to have the company. It is weird to swim with others because you can’t really take the time to get to know each other. It’s so cold out, and we all had to move quickly to transition from clothed to wetsuited, to water, then back to clothed. No time to chat much. Then everyone has a different approach to the water experience. Some seem to be dippers or soakers. Some are hardcore swimmers. Some are slow and steady. Going swimming with someone you don’t know or have connected with via a Facebook swim group page or Nextdoor is kind of odd. You meet. But once you go from standing chest-high in the cold water and taking the pause where you think, “this is insane,” to plunging into the water…..you go in your direction. They go in theirs. Then you meet back on the beach in 10 or 30 minutes, both of you making a mad dash to get wet gear off and dry clothes on. Anyway….back to the water. (And please know that the photos and videos always look MUCH lighter than the reality of the experience. It was all dark waves today. Grey skies, and by the time I was almost finished, rain.)

Walking in was still hard, but only for a few steps. My stems felt like they were going to freeze solid, but the minute I was deeper than knee-deep, nothing. I felt nothing. The web suit worked, baby! (And it’s only 3mm thick for 50 degree water.) While the other two women I was with were shivering and eeking (not that they aren’t badasses—they are. They’ve been doing this much longer than I have. But they only had neoprene jackets and regular caps, and everyone does this sort of pause before committing. Because it’s so cold, and you don’t want to feel it, but to turn back would be too depressing. We are seawitches; a few cold waves don’t scare us. ) I dove in and headed toward the deep and to the right, as usual. 

The water was really dark, so I couldn’t see that much. I felt the brutal stinging/burning cold on my face, across my forehead. Also on my lower legs that weren’t covered by any neoprene. Seriously unpleasant. I just kept swimming my modified breast stroke, trying to get out into the deep water. My legs felt like little pixie stick potato snack from the 70s-brittle enough to break. I just kept going because I knew all the burning would go away. I was wearing neoprene gloves and cut-off sleeves from an old wetsuit that covered most of long arms. No cold got through. Amazing. 

I pulled up to “site,” and I was exactly where I wanted to be: deep end, east and south of the cement dock. Just a couple months ago, swimming to and from the dock were so hard, now I am out there, swimming against the wind and waves, swimming right into them. F them. I’m doing this. 

My goggle weren’t really fitting so great. They didn’t feel right, and one of them was leaking. I swam to the dock, did 10 very lame pull-ups, then tried to adjust my goggles. I had to hook my arm around the metal steps because I didn’t want to climb the steps and expose my body to the cold wind. I thought I had fixed the goggles, but I dropped off the ladder/steps and they fell off my face. I had to grab my buoy from behind me to steady myself. Not easy to do when the water is rough and pushing everything in it’s path forward. Actually, it’s more like a shove. I spaz-paddled back to the step ladder thingy, and hooked my arm around it again. I had to climb out eventually because I couldn’t get the rubber strap of the goggles through the tiny slot to thread it, then rethread it, then tighten it. It’s hard enough when you’re in a pool, but with neoprene gloves on, it’s a mess. I dropped back into the water, and couldn’t breathe through my snorkel. Floundered for a second, then realized I had forgotten to put it back under my goggle strap and hook it to the strap. Back to the step ladder, hook my arm around the metal, yank the strap from my head, shove the snorkel under, don’t bother with the hook. Drop back into the water, and in that short time my body lost its heat; the water burned my face and legs. Lesson: get dialed in with all gear before entering the water.

I saw the other women getting out, and even though I wasn’t ready to get out, I didn’t want to be left alone on the beach, trying to get out of my gear and into warm clothes. When I was running, I would have called a day like today and “discipline run.” I kept (more like re-established) the habit, held the place, but the conditions weren’t in my favor. I got out. The other two had a long head start on me. Some vandals broke the showers, so no hot showers for us. A duck had pooped on one of my swim buddy’s towels while we were in the water! “Little F-er,” she said. They were ready to leave when I was still trying to get out of the wetsuit, but humored me with a photo first. I wanted to send it to L to show him my testing ground. I look like an absolute crazy person. Fine. I was fine with them leaving because there were a few other people at the park, so I felt safe. As I left the water, two other wetsuit sheathed swimmers got in. I felt all kindred in my wetsuit. Like, “LOL, we are totes ok in cold water … cause, GEAR!!!!!” (Aside: it’s funny to me that in UK cop shows they refer to drugs as “gear.” Whatevs.)

[Aside: So, here is the thing. I’m gonna share the photo with you even though I’m horrified by my appearance. I gained 50 pounds when I broke the shit out of my leg a few years ago. It’s been a very slow and arduous process trying to recover. I’m still doing PT, and my leg still hurts all the time. I’ve maybe lost eight pounds or so, but it’s really hard to lose the weight because my other health issues make it impossible for me to exercise with any intensity or regularity. I’m really struggling with severe depression and PTSD. Swimming, and especially swimming in cold water, is the first thing that has helped me feel like there are a few glimpses of light from where I am mired in a deep, dark pit.

I hate how I look. I don’t recognize my chubby face, my Covid hair, my squishy extra large body. I’m an apple, so the fat goes mostly on my torso, but really everywhere. Physically, psychically, there are layers and layers of crap on me. I would like to get out from under it, but it’s taking so much longer than I ever thought.

I was thinking of Quadrophenia today. “Sea and Sand.” It’s all about the beach for me, the water. I have no idea how to come back. Where my sass is. When I’ll be able to integrate what tiny forward steps I have made. But this blubbery Sea Witch is not “the real me.” Yes, naturally, but not really. I have no idea what I’m coming back to, coming back as, or how far I’ll get. I just know I’m uncomfortable in my own thick body. It doesn’t feel right.

I can handle this plump me, but I don’t like it. Unfortunately, I have so much on my plate just with all my heath issues that I can’t focus on losing the weight. It’s gonna take time. Here I am….a blob on the beach, but a determined, Sea Witch blob. Under the blubber is a former me, dying to get out. Physically, spiritually, emotionally…..in every way.

I want to do a separate post about women and body image because when I dis my body and say I’m fat, some other women become very uncomfortable. I don’t understand why because I’m not talking about anyone but myself. I’m only comparing myself to my former self. All the baggage is mine. I’m not judging anyone’s body or fitness level. To me everyone else looks fabulous. But living inside a body that can’t do what I want it to do, that I can’t trust, and that used to be so much better in every way is really stressful. It’s my thing. It’s complex. So why do other women get all squirmy about it? Or rush to reassure me. Let me just be in my blob and fight my way out. I’m only learning as I go. I give myself credit for what I accomplish. Well, not really. But I just don’t want this post to make people feel they need to reassure me about my attractiveness or whatever. I’m not about my outside these days/years. I suppose my outside reflects my insides. Shit, I didn’t even start bathing regularly until I started swimming, and that was only because I’m afraid of getting swimmer’s rash from the duck poop!]

I only brought a bath towel today because I have so much gear that I am trying to cut weight where I can. I sat on my towel, but I was also half on the ground. I put on my fleece jacket and was able to slip off the straps and roll down the top of my suit. But then I wasn’t sure out to get the suit all the way off. I had to lie down, shimmy around a bit, and get mud on my butt to get it off. I realized that I just didn’t give a F if anyone was perverted enough to be watching me. If they see my ass or my bush, too bad. I was trying to get my sweatpants on while sitting/lying in the mud and rocks. 

Grabbed and bundled everything together; it was really heavy because now everything was wet. I still have to use my cane, so I hobbled back to my car. The park was almost empty except for a few dog walkers and a young woman ran by me as I made my way to the car. 

I’m home now, very excited, happy, a bit chilly, and have three other posts to write about today. Some photos first, and a vid.

• 

• 

• 

• 

---