Jan 7, 2024. Temp 40 F. Water temp 47 F.
Today at the lake it was cold. Colder than usual. Still 40 F, but everything felt colder.
I went with my neighbor, S, and we were both feeling cold as we assembled our gear on the beach. The hardest part of winter swims is getting out of bed. The next hardest is getting to the car. Once I’m in the car, on my way, I’m good. Then there is another big pause on the beach. Am I really going to willingly walk into that cold water?
I got ready quicker than S, and she said to go ahead without her, but I didn’t. I like to enter the water together when I swim with someone. It feels nicer. Also, I was not in any hurry. Eventually, I did go without her because I was antsy to get in. Strange that I felt both hesitant and eager, but that is just how it works.
As expected, the cold water rushed into my socks and started burning my feet. My legs felt nothing, thanks to my thick thermal wetsuit. I kept wading into deeper water, letting the water flood into my socks and chill my feet. It’s not painful, and it’s a great way to wake up.
I got waist deep and dove in, thinking I’d head south toward the boat launch. I had to pull up immediately because my goggles weren’t on right and one side filled up with water. I readjusted, pushed both sides hard into my skin to make the section work, and started over.
This time my dive was successful. I was gliding across the water, looking at the sandy bottom of the lake. I didn’t pull up but kept swimming for what felt like a long time. With my snorkel and my “designed for breast-stroke” wetsuit, I can power along and not pull up unless I want to. My face was burning from the cold water, but my head was securely encased in two hoods, so I still felt warm. I’m so used to that cold blast on my face, and now I can swim through it until I acclimate. It used to take five to 20 pull-ups to acclimate. Now I often don’t need to pull up at all.
The bummer of my breast stroke wetsuit is the stretchy crotch panel. It allows me freedom of movement for breast stroke kick, but it’s thinner and less protective than the rest of the suit. That means I get a blast of freezing water down there. I really feel it. I know it will eventually go away, but for a couple of minutes I worry about things getting frost-bitten down there.
These uncomfortable experiences are starting to teach me something. I know that if I keep swimming the burn will dissipate, then disappear. My face will acclimate, and the water that seeps into my wetsuit will warm up. It is what I have been told about my emotions. I can sit with them, and eventually, they will change. My former therapist would say this to me. She told me that emotions are temporary states, but I didn’t really internalize that until today. Why is it easier to sit with physical discomfort than emotional pain?
I honestly don’t understand how to process her information, but the swimming analogy feels right. Maybe I have a much longer history of challenging myself physically, and that gives me the mental strength to trust things will work out in my physical challenges. Emotionally, I don’t understand how to access that muscle.
I can do it for other people. I can be supportive. I can empathize. But when it’s me I don’t really know what do to other than go for a walk or swim in the lake. Outside of physically moving through frustration, dissapoinment, anger, fear, whatever, I feel like I don’t know what to do.
Yet, that’s not exactly true. I did a yoga teacher training years ago. I know how to use my breath. Why don’t I ever do it? I think I feel so overwhelmed by my health issues that I refuse to put more effort into any of it. I don’t want to meditate. I don’t want to do therapy. I don’t want to read self-help books. I don’t want to need more help or put even five more minutes toward these issues that suck all my energy.
Underwater Forest
Back to the lake: When I finally pulled up I wasn’t were I thought I’d be. I hadn’t gone south at all but east. I didn’t care that much because I had enjoyed looking at the clumps of lake grass, like little shrubs, hugging the sandy lake bottom. I love seeing the white-ish sand on the bottom because it says, “fun, beach, summer.”
I glide over this life on the lake bottom like an airplane, and it’s so cool to get that perspective of looking down on the scenes. There are patches that are virtually milfoil-free, then there are huge areas covered in milfoil stalks. Like a forest.
The tops of the stalks are all brown now, and I am eager to see them start to wither and bend over themselves.
I didn’t see any fish today, but there were loads of birds sitting on the cement deck and plenty of ducks ducking around in the shallow water. I wonder if their feet get cold.
Traffic
Before I got in the lake I saw a boat go by, and while I was in the water a small plane landed, then took off. It’s sort of cool to see water planes, but a part of me doesn’t like them because I want the lake to be free of motors, petrol, pollution, machines. It should be for animals and swimming humans.
S got really cold, and the showers didn’t stay hot for very long. That was a bummer. The city had painted over the graffiti that was there last week, but the vandals had already tagged another wall. I don’t mind the graffiti so much because I think teens are so screwed in today’s world. Crazy pressure about college. Having to worry about being murdered at school. A mental health epidemic and not enough healthcare to go around. I like to think that maybe painting on a wall gives them something to say, “I”m here. I’m trying. It’s hard.”
We saw F today at the lake. He’s been there the past few times, and it’s always nice to see another swimmer. He just gets in for a quick dip and gets out. He doesn’t have the right gear, and I worry about him, but he’s a grown-ass person and can do what he wants.
Bonus
I noticed another thing about swimming today. My fingernails are so clean!!!! I like to keep them short but stuff still gets under them, but after being in the water they are so much cleaner. Even if I try to clean them with a brush they don’t look and feels as clean as after 30 minutes in the lake. I love that. Ok. Is that weird? I’m all about the side benefits.
Now I am home and drinking my tea. It’s already dark out, and I’m really glad I made myself go to the lake. Thank you, S, lake spirits, lake goddesses, and all who care.