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31/52 - Cold water, sweet blackberries
Aug. 3rd, 2020 02:46 pmMy annual leave week seemed to flash past, although it was filled with wonderful things, places and people.
I managed 4 swims - one in the lido on Monday; one in the sea, along the coast in Bournemouth, on Wednesday; and two in the Severn when visiting Teddy this [long] weekend.
The lido swim was the best, because it allows proper swimming and a good steady thump thump thump pace that seems to hammer my brain out flat again. Because the lido had only been filled (from the natural spring it is built atop) 3 days earlier, the water was not fully warmed by the sun and hovering around 18 degrees with the air temp around the same. This meant that while it was a comfortable temperature to swim it wasn't particularly easy to feel your muscles well enough to identify strain. Given it's been more than 4 months since I've been in a pool, I was really conscious of the need to be careful and stop after 30 mins regardless of how I felt so I only got to 1km, instead of my usual 2km+ I'd normally do. Came away with no injuries but could feel it the next day in my legs so I was right to stop when I did, much as I wanted to stay in the pool for the next year.
The sea and river swims were wonderful in an entirely different way, less thump thump thump to peace, and more a surrender to the elements. Just being able to let my body go, crash through waves, sink into the cool stillness, unfurl every single bit of muscle, to feel the cold creep up your body as you wade in, to note the way the distinction between hot and cold changes when you are fully submerged and the water becomes the baseline temperature.
Swimming is the time I feel absolutely at one with my body. I know where every part of me is, I know how to move, it comes naturally in a way little else does. Everything is awake, everything is switched on, everything works.
Summer feels like a season of excess sensation - everything is turned up. Cold water and swimming, hot sun on skin, rich scents after rain, the smell that drifts in bedroom windows as the air cools in the evening at the end of a hot day.
On Sunday before I climbed in the car to drive the 2 hour 45 minutes (I am being precise instead of rounding up because it sounds much less far for being "2 hours something" instead of "3 hours") home, Teddy and I went for a walk along the river. The path was lined with blackberry bushes, all in full fruit. I always appreciate my nearly 6 foot of height at times like this - I can reach to the higher branches, not yet stripped by passing pedestrians unable to resist that shiny, plump fruit, and pull down perfectly ripe berrries. But in the face of such abundance, I could hardly manage to select a single fruit to pluck from the bush. While I hesitated over a hundred options, selecting just a couple, Teddy had picked a handful. We walked along, sharing that little pile of fruit from their hand. Long after the first burst of freshness was gone, the sweetness remained on my lips, intensified by the warmth of the sun, and the contentment of my week which was carried along in each bit of my body.
I managed 4 swims - one in the lido on Monday; one in the sea, along the coast in Bournemouth, on Wednesday; and two in the Severn when visiting Teddy this [long] weekend.
The lido swim was the best, because it allows proper swimming and a good steady thump thump thump pace that seems to hammer my brain out flat again. Because the lido had only been filled (from the natural spring it is built atop) 3 days earlier, the water was not fully warmed by the sun and hovering around 18 degrees with the air temp around the same. This meant that while it was a comfortable temperature to swim it wasn't particularly easy to feel your muscles well enough to identify strain. Given it's been more than 4 months since I've been in a pool, I was really conscious of the need to be careful and stop after 30 mins regardless of how I felt so I only got to 1km, instead of my usual 2km+ I'd normally do. Came away with no injuries but could feel it the next day in my legs so I was right to stop when I did, much as I wanted to stay in the pool for the next year.
The sea and river swims were wonderful in an entirely different way, less thump thump thump to peace, and more a surrender to the elements. Just being able to let my body go, crash through waves, sink into the cool stillness, unfurl every single bit of muscle, to feel the cold creep up your body as you wade in, to note the way the distinction between hot and cold changes when you are fully submerged and the water becomes the baseline temperature.
Swimming is the time I feel absolutely at one with my body. I know where every part of me is, I know how to move, it comes naturally in a way little else does. Everything is awake, everything is switched on, everything works.
Summer feels like a season of excess sensation - everything is turned up. Cold water and swimming, hot sun on skin, rich scents after rain, the smell that drifts in bedroom windows as the air cools in the evening at the end of a hot day.
On Sunday before I climbed in the car to drive the 2 hour 45 minutes (I am being precise instead of rounding up because it sounds much less far for being "2 hours something" instead of "3 hours") home, Teddy and I went for a walk along the river. The path was lined with blackberry bushes, all in full fruit. I always appreciate my nearly 6 foot of height at times like this - I can reach to the higher branches, not yet stripped by passing pedestrians unable to resist that shiny, plump fruit, and pull down perfectly ripe berrries. But in the face of such abundance, I could hardly manage to select a single fruit to pluck from the bush. While I hesitated over a hundred options, selecting just a couple, Teddy had picked a handful. We walked along, sharing that little pile of fruit from their hand. Long after the first burst of freshness was gone, the sweetness remained on my lips, intensified by the warmth of the sun, and the contentment of my week which was carried along in each bit of my body.