The First Wild Swim
Yes it was cold, yes you should keep reading.
This morning I went for my first wild swim, in a lake, in the wind and the mist. Can you believe it? My husband certainly can’t. This all came about as a girlfriend who was hosting last night’s dinner party mentioned she was going as the evening came to a close. ‘A wild swim first thing?’ I exclaimed as we moved from our soft seats towards the front door. ‘Absolutely’ she laughed, ‘I go every Friday, even in winter, come if you want to’. I did want to, I thought so I set my alarm for 6:30 and pulled on my swimsuit, threw my hair up into woolly hat and out I set to meet her there.
What on earth am I doing here?
The drive was particularly windy, the mist was incredibly thick for the very beginning of Autumn and I thought to myself ‘what on earth am I doing’ the whole way there as Bon Iver played. I am a sick girl, an unwell girl, a girl who missed university and big city jobs because I was too poorly and here I am driving to a freezing cold (maybe 5 degrees, who knows?) lake to swim!
The Quiet Welcome of the Other Early Morning Risers
Pulling up felt like entering a different world, the mist settling just on top of the water, and the quiet welcome of the other early morning risers felt exciting - the tension was starting to build. Is this how the other half live? Those with bodies that haven’t fought them since they were little. As I found my friend my mind was racing, ‘Will I get in, how long will I stay in, will I turn blue, will I be annoying?’ The thoughts swirled around as we walked down the lane with Moose, the dog accompanying us on this leg of the journey.
Appealing - Not.
I was instructed to arrange my clothes in easy to grab formation on the shared ground sheet the group I had been welcomed into lay out for us. I began peeling back layers and, much to my surprise, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. The adrenaline must be kicking in I wondered, as we scrambled down the slippy, moss rocks and took our first steps into the brown, murky water. Appealing - not.
A Morning Swim Pro.
I gasped. Again and again and again, as we took further steps down into the rocky shallows, it was cold, of course, but something greater was happening - I was trusting my body to do something that she hadn’t done before. A magical, inextricable effervescence bubbled up and out in each of my gasps as I began to descend into the depths. My friend locked eyes with me, her watching and encouraging as I made it happen. She was a morning swim pro you see, her breath was steady, her body relaxed. I got on top of my breathing and I set off across the lake. It was happening, it is happening.
I can do this.
Trusting our bodies.
The road of ‘recovery’ from long term, chronic illnesses is bumpy - to put it politely and there are a thousand loses and a thousands wins, sometimes before we’ve even left the house. Even years into our recovery the impact of our illness stays imprinted on us, shaping our decisions and thoughts and trusting our body even just an inch more can be overwhelming to say the least.
These Women Had My Back.
The swam lasted maybe 15 minutes, I arose red and blotchy and shivering. But a transformation had taken place, I’d never be the same again. I’m a wild swimmer now, don’t you know. That’s something my body can do. As we quickly dried off, throwing towels around us and shimmying into warm clothes, tea from a thermos was quickly placed in my hand and an extra coat lovingly wrapped around me. True to form, I had not packed correctly in my hurried state this morning but that didn’t matter, these women had my back.
Not afraid of the water or the chill.
As we set off back to the car, congratulating each other on surviving I noted how comforting the embrace of these women, mostly strangers had on me. We walked past other gaggles of girls, setting off for their adventure, smiling, laughing, not afraid of the water or the chill. Morning swim pros.
What a community to be a part of, what a way to start my Friday, what an amazing offer from my friend.
Moose encouraging us from the sidelines.