Cold comfort: above and below the water
I stayed out too late at some party last night, where twenty years of my life caught up with me. I learned some sad news, met an old flame, reminisced. This, and tiredness, and the rain and sleet and cold have left me contemplative and silent.
I sit and stare down at my phone. “Just set the goal of a shorter swim, and future Sally might want to do more once she gets in”, Anna texts me. The rain is drumming on the roof of the car, the windows have steamed up. I just can’t face getting out and running the short distance to the pool. I feel weary, my muscles are clenched against the cold. I’m cold because I’ve been up for hours and even though I could have put my heating on at home, like any normal person in the midst of winter would, I’ve chosen not to. I’m cold to the core. I do not want to swim. It’s all I can do not to drive home, put the heating on full blast, and put my pajamas on and lie in bed watching a movie. If this is what I want to do, why can’t I just do it? Why can’t I be like a normal average person?
I look down at Anna’s message again. She’s right. I need only do a short swim. I’m here after all. Nobody is forcing me to swim but I know I will feel better if I do.
It was snowing earlier on. The snow turned to sleet, and then just to rain. It’s miserable. I shudder. I grab my swim bag out of the boot of the car and run towards the pool. I run past the indoor changing room with its underfloor heating and warm tiles, and past the warm showers. I run outside again and around the pool to the cold wet dark poolside changing cubicles furthest away from the building. I dance a little jig, barefooted and standing on my kick board, to stop my feet from freezing on the wet concrete as I strip off. Brrrr.
Dashing to the shallow end, I hurriedly splosh into the water, which is warmer, thank goodness, than the air outside. I start to swim.
Everything is forgotten, everything is still. On the surface: biting cold, steam, wind, flapping flags, shivers, melancholy. Under the water: clarity, warmth, silence, calm. My comfort.
Thank you to Anna for pushing me over the edge.
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