12th April 2021 - Long Swim
Today was the best swim so far. It was what I imagine a perfect acid trip to be like. HD, mesmerising, spiritual.
I almost didn’t swim, feeling slow and unadventurous. By the time I decided that it would do me good, I was worried that I’d miss the closing time. But double checking the opening hours I saw that, as of today, the pond is open until 6:00pm. This in itself was cheering, an indicator of lengthening evenings and Summer’s approach.
It was a brilliant brisk afternoon. The morning’s snow flurries having given way to glittering sunshine. The white paint of the opposite houses’ windows looked extra bright, coastal.
Assembling my swimming paraphernalia, placing it in the basket of my bike, and cycling to the pond took under 15 minutes. After a landlocked winter, being able to swim so easily felt deeply liberating.
***
The atmosphere at the pond is tranquil. I expected more people given the new late opening, but there are only 4 in the meadow. The pond is empty and a perfect mirror of the vegetation and blue sky above.
I swim for 15 minutes. Serene, slow, grateful for the solitude. My only companion is the cormorant, drying his wings on one of the life rings. I have timed this perfectly.
Sunlight reflects off ripples and makes wavering lines on tree trunks. A rabbit’s white tail bobs in the undergrowth at the far bank. My hands and feet are warm and prickling.
Despite this swim being twice the length of any other this year, I feel fine. Relaxed and confident in my body, which seems to have reached a new level of resilience. I lose track of how many laps I’ve done.
The lifeguards begin to look restless and I decide that 15 minutes is enough. I know that no matter how relaxed I feel in the water, I am challenging my body. Warming up quickly will be critical.
My jaw vibrates and I shiver violently as I finish getting dressed and unlock my bike. I cycle home under the influence of this new physiological reaction and wonder if it is safe.
At home, I make hot water bottles and tea and sit next to the radiator until, half an hour later, I am warm.
I think of people shipwrecked at sea. The Titanic. The boats sinking in the Mediterranean. Even strong and acclimatised human bodies don’t last long in cold water.
