Courage comes. In January, I did not feel brave enough to join others swimming and diving in the sea. That has changed. Courage came. A small step. A big splash.
It started with a swim. The pools are closed. Will I go when they open? Not for a while I think. But I miss swimming. So after thinking about it for far too long, I swam in the sea. What a revelation. The blue sky, the silvery ripples, the ocean floor. Salt instead of chlorine. Fresh air instead of steam. No boundaries, no barriers - the freedom of the ocean. Or that tiny bit of it between the groynes that I swam in. Quickly clocking up the sort of distances that have taken me forever to fail to reach in the pool. It made me curious.
For twenty two years I have lived by the sea. I have read about the sea and I have read about swimming. The wet and the dry. I told myself that reading is not swimming. It has its place. But it is for landlubbers.
For all those years and despite all those pages, I have always swum indoors. That seems crazy now. What seemed not for me, makes me feel alive. The sea near my home is mostly still and clean. I can see the sand-coated crabs scurry along the floor, while razor clams rest below tufts of seaweed. I went to another beach and swam there. The sea was fierce. It said don't be fooled. I am in charge. My treasures are hidden by powerful waves, my water murky. The waves pushed me over as I tried to leave, slapping me onto the shingle shore. I crawled to the sand, helped by a hefty shove from the next wave. I know who is boss. But I was laughing. I love it.
And this week, diving. With calm, clear coaching from Colin I found courage to dive. At a higher tide, swimming to those groynes, climbing on them and diving in.
There were only about forty something years between my two dives. To get a much sought-after badge at high school, I had to dive in the deep end of a very small school pool and swim a length. The badge was to be sewn onto costumes or trunks. I can't remember if that happened. I do remember that after that dive my interest waned. High school swimming became a risky, messy torture of verrucas, athletes foot and periods. Best avoided, which I did.
Now though, I am hooked. I look at tide tables. I guess with help I'll learn when is best to swim.
As I am seduced by the blue grey horizon, I wonder what I was afraid of all these years. Not finding the bottom. The expanse. The rapidly changing environment. Where the pool once brought safety, it now would feel like confinement. I have broken free. The courage has come. I have tasted it. I will not let it leave.
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