The Swim

Usually, I’m fighting boredom by the 12th lap. From that point on, swimming becomes less of an exercise than of a test of my will power. Just eight more laps, I’d admonish myself. And I’d start a tiring mental bargaining process – ok, the pool’s too crowded today, just 6 more laps then. I’d be exhausted at the end, and not because of the physical exertions.

On Saturday though, I found the zone. The strokes came, easily, as I leisurely traversed back and forth the length of the pool, my thoughts flitting from memory to fantasy to the present. It was just before noon, but as the skies were partly cloudy, not too hot. I had the entire pool to myself. I didn’t keep count, but in that hour I was in the pool, I must have swum around 40-50 laps. šŸ™‚

It made me happy, the swim.

I like how it’s the little things that catch you unawares that make your day. Like the swim. Like my odd and whimsical sequence of dreams last night. I woke up in the morning feeling strangely happy. Amongst the bits and pieces that I recall (go karting; attempts to sing karaoke; a stroll through a gypsy carnival where we came upon a staircase full of potions, and a room full of fur hats), it was my birthday and Jeff bought me a Statue of Liberty cake. Even in the dream, I was bemused by the cake, but the surprise only registered for an instant before I was off to the next adventure. Thinking back on it while lucid though, I realize, it’s been years since I’ve received a cake for my birthday; or actually had a birthday celebration. Heh.

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