Saturday, May 24, 2014

First open water practice--first time swimming in the Schuylkill



First open water practice yielded this poem:

Swimming in the Schuylkill



The water chills bare

skin. Startled awake,

I slide under, frightened



no more, curious,

hands brushing branches

the water chills. Bare



bones, swimming, outside

the lines. Invisible,

I slide under. Frightened



fish scuttle away, touched

by foreign fingers.

The water chills bare



landscapes now vibrant with dark

green shade, wounded trees

I slide under, frightened.



Invited to taste a river,

I drink

its currents,

chilled, bare.



Diane McManus
dpmcmanus50@gmail.com

posted by DPMcManus @ 4:04 PM 0 comments

Committing to the 2014 Maggie Fischer Memorial Great South Bay Cross Bay Swim

I am entered. It's official. I WILL do it! In a "morning of mindfulness" at Community College of Philadelphia, two days after my first workout with John Kenny, we were invited to meditate, then write a reflection. I wrote a draft of this, which I have edited a little for the blog:

 Visualization:

 I have reached the sailboat whose mast and stays are lined with flags. This is mile five of the Great South Bay Cross Bay Swim, with a quarter mile to go. A quarter mile is 18 lengths of a 25 yard pool, something I can do with almost no training. But I have trained, and the swim has gone well.

 A peaceful energy fills my body, breathing in and out, stroke more efficient than I expected at this point. I'm flying through the swim, reveling in it, mind at rest, body moving rhythmically through the waves, not fazed by the occasional whitecaps, which are just part of the ride. Ginger tinged water wards of seasickness, and I swim relaxed yet focused, no wasted motion.

 I am surprised to see the five mile mark. How did I get here so quickly without feeling the effort as I had the two times before this? Instead, I swam with a child's delight in the process, in the play of it. As children, we can play for hours without feeling tired even if the playing requires more energy than the chores we are expected to do. And that is what this feels like, yet also purposeful, pushing toward a goal set firmly in mind from the moment I decided to undertake this swim, and surviving hard training, John's punishing workouts, times when I wondered if it was worth it, yet knew inside that it was.

 Here I am, feeling the coolness of the water wrapping around me and the kayak, and the warmth of the sun, not oppressively hot, just enough to work with the water to bring balance to the temperature. Light breezes play over the water. Seagulls call back and forth. Somewhere in the distance, boat horns sound.

 As I near the flags and pass them, I feel confident, have abundant energy to take me to the finish, yet don't feel hurried, just the calm assurance that I am completing the swim as I planned to. I'm ready to finish, ready to reach the shore, but also enjoy being out here. I happily anticipate family and friends waiting for me, cheering, but I'm also one with the water, the wind, the fish, the gulls, fellow swimmers, all of us in communion, engaged in a collective effort that holds each of us up and sends us safely to shore.

 ***
Whatever way my swim turns out, I've read enough sport psychology to believe that visualization has a certain kind of power. The conditions may or may not be wonderful. I might experience unexpected hardships. But I've gotten through two swims--the first with seasickness in the last two miles, and yet kept moving forward knowing I wouldn't feel any better if I stopped; the second under-trained, and feeling something--a stick? stuck in my swimsuit strap. A couple days later, I feel chilled and feverish. But I recover and have no regrets. '

 I look forward to this swim, and I will be ready for it. Over and out.

posted by DPMcManus @ 4:01 PM 0 comments