Finish Strong

    Back in the swim of things. Literally. I pondered writing a post about despair, looming winter depression, shorter days, pending rain, as I drove through heavy traffic feeling gloomy, tears burning my eyes. Yes, I can be a basketcase, especially this time of year, and especially when I am broke and facing a lean winter. In my head I wrote grim prose as I drove through evening traffic. My swim gear was in my bag next to me, but all I wanted to do was drive straight home and curl into a fetal position underneath my down comforter. It was a strong pull, a siren song.
    But I did not allow myself to turn onto the all too familiar road to my home and instead headed east towards the aquatic center. Even in the parking lot I sat debating going inside. Finally, I took a deep breath, grabbed my bag and headed inside. I was greeted with the familiar and comforting fragrance of moist, chlorine laden air. But I felt chilled, sluggish, unenthusiastic. I changed quickly, wet down my hair and pulled on my condom-like swim cap, letting it snap into place. I walked quickly and with purpose to the pool, grabbed hand paddles, pull buoy and flippers. I shivered, cold, tired. I jumped in the water without letting myself have time to think. The water felt cold enough to make me gasp, goosebumps chased across my body. I stood for a few moments, feeling chilled, the water uncomfortably cold. I couldn't procrastinate any longer, I plunged in and started swimming. I felt chilled, tired. But defeat was not an option.
    I swam, crawled, backstroked. One lap, two, three. Still chilled, still tired. I grabbed the pull buoy and hand paddles and kept swimming. I fell into my favorite routine: 2 laps with pull buoy, 2 laps with hand paddles and pull buoy, 1 lap backstroke. After the first five laps I was already reveling in the feel of my body slipping through the water. I focused on lengthening my body, lengthening my stroke, letting my body roll side to side, a pendulum in the water. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. I kept at it, lap after lap. Ten laps in I was feeling strong, healthy, sleek. I kept swimming, feeling better with every stroke, every breath, every lap. Back and forth, the length of the pool. Lap after lap.
    So, despite despair, gloom, and an encroaching lean winter, I swam. The cool water washing stress, anxiety and despair from my body, heart and soul. I swam. 50 laps. 50 hard, fast laps. I was tired after 40, but knew it would be those last 10 laps, the tired laps, pushing myself beyond my fatigue, that would be the laps that truly count. I swam the last five laps harder and faster than all the previous laps. In my mind I was thinking of my race pace, and training my body to finish strong. And I did. Finish Strong.