I was swimming in the gym pool. It was the closest I have ever come to actual swimming. Which, don't get me wrong, is still pretty far from what you would consider swimming. I'm no Michael Phelps or manatee, gliding through the water with grace and majesty and oneness with the sea. Approximately freestyle is how I think of it, though I'm sure serious swimmers would not consider it as such. But I was in flow in the water and it felt effortless. Time passed without my noticing it. I finally understood the appeal of swimming laps. I usually find swimming back and forth so boring, like I'm not going anywhere and there aren't even any dolphins here so what is the point? It was 5am, which is my favorite time to do everything because it's everyone else's favorite time to still be sleeping. So I get to have a whole lane (sometimes the whole pool) all to myself. There was one other person in the pool, a woman swimming back and forth seemingly forever. She was there when I started and still there when I left. She looked like she belonged there and I most definitely did not. But so what? I wasn't there to belong or accomplish or impress.
I was there because I wasn't running. I'm not running. I haven't been running. I am mostly ok with it. I don't know which of those things is more surprising. I miss it of course. I miss the feeling of running. I miss the way conversation easily flows when running, from the deeply personal to the absurdly funny to the state of everyone's bodily functions. But running hurts at the moment so I'm not doing it. It feels like tendinitis. The kind of thing my body will heal on its own with rest and time. I'm going to physical therapy and acupuncture and massage and doing my feldenkrais and going to the gym (which is not my favorite place but it is warm so I guess it's tolerable). But mostly I'm just resting and avoiding the movements that cause pain. In the past I would have felt the need to do something, anything, everything to make it better as soon as possible. I would have felt the agony and frustration of not being able to do what I want to do. I still feel those things a bit. I feel depressed a lot, but that's mostly at the state of the world - the dying planet and the terrible things humans do to others. I don't feel depressed about my body. At times a bit frustrated, yes. But mostly I feel grateful for all my body does and is. And if it needs a break right now, that's what I'm going to give it. So I'm not running. It's probably temporary. Even if it isn't, even if I never ran again, that would be sad of course, but it wouldn't be utterly devastating. There are other losses that are far worse. I have an easy life compared to many. I am lucky in so many ways. Sometimes if you want to continue running, you have to stop running for a time. For however long it takes to heal. That's just how it goes. I wouldn't have chosen it and I'm not thrilled about it, but I accept it.
I was swimming because I wasn't running, or at least that's how it had started. I bought a swim cap. Royal blue, my favorite color. I started going to the pool, which is warm and usually deserted at 5am. I've never had swimming lessons but I've always liked being in the water. Treading water, floating on my back, the ease and gravity-defying power of it. I never thought about swimming as a sport or an exercise, it was just like this thing I did on vacation, or to avoid drowning. But lately it has become something more. Somehow swimming has become something I do for me, for joy. I don't care how I look or what anyone else thinks of me when I swim. It's just me and the sea (err, heated indoor pool). It doesn't matter how long I stay or how far I go. Speed and time are irrelevant here, because it's not about performance. It's about play. There is no achievement or accomplishment, only experimentation and enjoyment. I just show up and mess around in the water, letting my arms and legs and core and breath move in sync. A few months ago, I had this thought - that came from the well of weird thoughts deep within, the source of all my very best ideas - and it was like what if we did one of those flip things? Later someone told me this is called a flip turn. I had no idea how to do it, other than some vague memory of seeing Olympic swimmers on TV many years ago. But somehow I did a flip underwater. And then I kept doing them until I could swim, flip, swim, flip, over and over until I felt like stopping. I'm sure my technique isn't the "right" way to do it, but that doesn't matter. I'm not doing it for anyone else, I'm doing it for me. Because I want to. Because it's silly and fun and I take comfort in the underwater solitude, the three planes of motion, the respite from the expectations and judgments of the world above.
I had tendinitis in my ankle about 8 years ago and I felt so desolate at the time. Now here I am, same problem, different tendon. But I feel ok about it because I'm a different Jen. I'm not flipping out about it (Though maybe the literal flipping is an antidote to flipping out. Who knows. In any case, spiraling through the water is way more fun than spiraling into a black hole of sad thoughts). It hasn't been all sunshine and smooth sailing of course. I've had some low moments. It sucks to be injured. Though I hesitate to call it that. I'm not at 100%, obviously. There are things I want to do that I can't do right now. But I don't really feel "injured" or "damaged." I mean, my body is still doing all these other lovely and magical things. Like swimming and Jacob's Laddering and healing my tendons. It's doing new things all the time that I never even dreamed it could do. I'm starting to think that the reason I love running isn't about running at all. It's about my body and the way it moves through the world. It's about tuning out all the noise about what a body should be or do or look like and enjoying the experience of actually living in one. It's about appreciating what my body can do in this moment and listening to what it needs. It's about connecting to myself. And to the truth. That all bodies are unique and amazing.
I watched Captain Marvel on a transatlantic flight last year. I don't know if it was the elevation or the travel fatigue or the fact of being an adolescent in the 1990's, but I cried during that scene set to No Doubt's I'm Just A Girl. I'm no Brie Larson and I have no fighting skills, but when she said "I've been fighting with one hand tied behind my back. What happens when I'm finally set free?" I understood the sentiment. (Too bad the rest of the movie was disappointing in the way that all superhero movies are disappointing to me. They're all fight scenes and flashy effects, and no one seems to understand that force and physical strength aren't what make someone super. But I digress). Maybe it's cheesy to say, but I feel like the past few years have been about unlearning the things that were holding me back and figuring out how to be set free. And then a whole lot of, oh well what the fuck do I do now? How do I exist in the world as the person I am becoming? I'm not sure where I belong now. Some of the things I used to do no longer feel right for me. I am embracing rest and there aren't many spaces that encourage that mindset. I know now that my worth is inherent (as is everyone's), not tied to productivity or appearance or usefulness. But capitalist thinking, and this culturally created hierarchy that treats some bodies better than other bodies, are seemingly everywhere and it's hard to escape that (except for literally being underwater). Running was a way to connect with my fullest, freest self. Now I'm learning how to harness that inner potential outside of running. Sometimes it feels like I have to temporarily disconnect from the world in order to be more connected to myself. I am still trying to figure it all out.
One day I will no longer run. I will no longer swim or eat or breathe. I will no longer exist. At least not in the same physical form. I don't know what I'll be after that. I feel like it's either ghost or reincarnation or a memory in someone else's heart. I guess I'll find out when I get there. In the meantime, I'm going to keep exploring how to be alive in this weird, wonderful body that I am lucky enough to inhabit. From the outside, maybe I'm just a girl in a royal blue swim cap. But on the inside I'm infinitely more. Please bear with me while I figure out how to be an infinite being in a finite body. Bonus points if you are an actual bear. Because bears get it. They hibernate all winter, resting and preparing for spring, when they will emerge again in all their bear-y awesomeness. No promises on that front. I doubt I'm going to do anything super cool in spring or anything. But I might emerge back into the world a bit more rested, rejuvenated and, in all likelihood, even more ridiculous than ever.
Lyric of the moment: "I wanna leave something good behind, when you remember me. This is for the ones that always got our backs. To better days ahead, never looking back. And the songs we sing to get by. All the ones we love below and above, the rebels and the saints..." ~Strung Out "Rebels & Saints"
