Splash

The hardest part about swimming? That moment you first get into the water. You're basically naked in front of a select group of on-lookers: a few swimmers, a lifeguard who's half your age, and people working out in the gym on the other side of the glass wall. Happy in their sleeveless shirts and their Lululemon yoga pants while you have your shirt off dreading the exact moment when the skin on the bottom of your stomach hits the water.

Sit poolside. The feet go in first. It's not too cold today. Jump in. And there it is, the worst is over. Dip your head in, dip the goggles, and put them on. Kick-off.

Always like to start with a freestyle. It requires the most energy but is also the fastest. Does anyone actually know how to kick while swimming? I mean, not kick like everyone does, but actually kick for maximum power? I don't know, probably the Olympians, maybe, but that's about it. Try kicking a board from one end of the pool to the other; you won't make it to the other side before stopping due to exhaustion.

Left, right, left, breathe, right, left, right, breathe.

Breathing every three strokes is very manageable.

One.

Exhausted. The second lap is always so hard. What is it about the second lap? You never feel that tired on the first lap, but the second one, oof, the second one your body's saying, “Wait a second, we’re not doing this again, are we? We are? Really?!” Left, right, left, breathe, right, left, right, breathe. On and on it goes till the end of the lap.

Two.

Third length, the best. The first breaststroke lap. Recovery time. This is where you get the energy for the next length of freestyle. Freestyle, recover, freestyle, recover, on and on you go for as many laps as you're going to do. Today you will do 60, only 60. Don’t think about it too much. If you think about doing 60 laps while you're only on lap 3, it feels impossible. But it gets done, little by little, stroke by stroke. Rome wasn't built in a day, but you can probably swim 60 laps in an hour if you put your mind to it.

Three.

The fourth lap is back to freestyle. The recovery helps, a little more juice in the arms now. That is the beauty of swimming: it’s a full-body workout, unlike most other cardio exercises, which focus predominantly on the lower body. Legs are important, for sure, but what if you're injured? Are you just supposed to rest and decay? Nah, fuck that. So you swim, on and on and on.

Four.

Back to breaststroke. Among other things, swimming must be the loneliest form of exercise. No phone, no headphones, no music, podcast, or anything else to distract you from the fact that you'll be here for an hour doing the exact same repetitive shit. Alas, there is no escape from swimming. You're forced to acknowledge that there's nothing you can do to make the time go by faster. All you can do is keep going from one end of the pool to the other. No escape.

Five.

The freestyle laps are faster, and sometimes you hold your breath for 5 strokes, sometimes 7, sometimes even 9, just to see if you can. It's always an odd number so you breathe over both shoulders. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, breathe. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, breathe.

Six.

Back to breaststroke, by now you get the rhythm; doesn't make it any easier though. Slowly but surely, a settling-in starts to occur. You start accepting the fact that you'll be here doing the same damn thing over and over, and that's okay. There's almost a beauty to it. There's a lot of noise and glory given to doing things once, just to try it. But the things that ultimately end up defining you are the things you choose to do over and over again. For whatever reason, you come back to certain things. Perhaps there's a joy there, perhaps an addiction, maybe even a love. Possibly it's a sense of duty. Who knows?

Seven.

Now there's some momentum, you can feel it. You almost become one with the water like this is what you're supposed to be doing. Yes, your arms hurt, but you keep going, knowing that if you keep on going, at some point they'll stop bitching and be reserved about the fact that this is what they're here for. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, breathe. Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, breathe.

Eight.

Consider how lucky you are to do this. Yes, it's lonely, but some people also lovingly refer to that as 'me time'. When you're here, you can work through all your thoughts. All your insecurities, all those fears, about whatever. Will I get this promotion? Do I have a shot with the lifeguard who's half my age? Also, you're so damn tired that you don't have the energy to control your thoughts because all your energy is spent on making sure you keep going.

Nine.

Now you just push in freestyle. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, breathe. 27 strokes. That is how many strokes it takes to get from one end of the pool to the other. 27 strokes. On the tenth lap, you give it everything. Is it lap or length? I never know. All I know is one of the best parts about swimming, as with most things, is having done it. “Bro, I swam 60 laps today” sounds a helluva lot better than “Bro, I swam 60 lengths today.”

Ten.

Ten! Great. Only 50 laps to go. Easy. Back to breaststroke. When you really get down to thinking about it, there is really something magical about being in the water. When you're walking around a city or a forest you feel so in control. But when you're submerged in a body of water, you know you are not. Sure, you can pick which stroke to swim or when to breathe but you can be sure that you are firmly not in charge. The water is, and you are one with the water.

One.

One of these days you'll learn to kickflip.