NO BACKSIES

Never Save Anything for the Swim Back

Inner fishing with the 6 am swimmers

I first noticed the 6 am swimmers at the beginning of COVID. I wanted to join them but I had committed to paddleboarding that time of day. Then, two years later, it seemed like I’d waited too long to show up to the party.

They aren’t an intimidating group per se. I find all groups intimidating. This group has been swimming together every morning for three years. Maybe longer.

I was literally a fish out of water. I had been swimming on and off, but not much in the past three years, and mostly in a pool. I had no idea how long a distance these people swam in the morning. A mile? Ten miles?

But then the universe offered me an invitation to swim with them. I believe in signs. I live next to an astrologer and she could tell me the moon was Jello and I’d be convinced.

At a swim meet for my son two weekends ago, another mom, who I just met, asked me if I swam.

Yeah, I said, but I’m out of practice. You?

Yes, she said. She swam masters and she swam in the lake with the 6 am swimmers.

I’ve always wanted to join them, I said, but I’m intimidated.

You should come, she said.

I’m slow, I said.

So am I, she said.

After my two-day migraine passed, I found myself awake at 5:30 am. I immediately started putting on my suit. I’d left it on the floor in case I woke up in time. The dog heard me and did her I gotta poop stretch.

I brought her to the roof to her patch of faux grass reserved for midnight emergencies. I don’t live in a gated community like Brentwood with security guards in golf carts keeping me safe. If my dog wakes up at 2 am, she poops on the roof.

Even though it was safe to walk the dog at 5:30 am, there was no way I had time for a dog walk and a swim. On my drive to the lake, I verbally addressed my anxiety. I always feel like Stuart Smalley from his Daily Affirmation when I talk to myself on the way to places I am afraid to go.

Driving to the beach at 5:30 am in my not very cute, neon patterned, grab bag, swim outlet swimsuit, I felt naked. The back was super low. The legs were high.

It wasn’t leaving much to the imagination, but it was already 85 degrees out so my cover-up sweatsuit sat like an electric blanket on the passenger seat. No way I was putting that on in this temperature.

You can do this, I told myself. You can swim. Don’t be scared of people. Just be friendly. Walk right up to the crowd and say hello. Maybe your friend will already be there. Your friend who you’ve known for an hour, who you met at the swim meet. Oy. You can do this. You won’t look stupid. Be brave.

I parked. I walked towards the beach. The 6 am swim club was all sitting in beach chairs facing the lake, watching the sunrise. They looked so cool. I approached cautiously, like one of them was going to turn around and say, “not her!” If that happened, I could pretend I was walking somewhere else. Who me? I’m here for yoga.

I hoped the woman whose back was facing me was my new swim team mom friend. She sort of looked like it. I’d never seen her hair down nor had I seen her in a swimsuit. I didn’t know her very well.

She turned as I walked up, looked at me, looked away, then looked back.

Oh hey, she said. You came.

Yep, I said, I was up.

Do you know everybody? She asked. I shook my head. Everybody, this is Amy.

Everybody waved and said hello.

One woman looked at me, squinting. I know you, she said. I shrugged. She looked familiar but it's a small town and we’re both swimmers. Probably from the Y. I felt shy, not ready to Kevin Bacon.

Let’s get in now, my friend said. I like to go in before the rest of them because I’m slow. These people are zoomers.

She tapped another woman on the shoulder. You ready?

Sure, the other woman said.

As we walked into the lake, pulling on our caps, strapping on our buoys, and stretching our goggles over our caps, the other woman asked me about my swimming history.

I’ve always swam, I said.

But in the lake? she asked.

Now and then. She looked at me concerned. The lake was choppy. She sized me up, probably wondering if I’d need saving.

Okay, she said unconvinced. Let’s meet by the blue crane.

My friend pointed to something blue that was very far away.

The thing about swimming into the middle of a choppy lake is when you haven’t done it, it’s intimidating as hell. I also had no idea how long we were going to swim. I’d swam laps between the buoys, but this was different. I couldn’t stop. This was the great wide-open water.

I was the slowest of the slowest. I kept my eyes on their neon buoys ahead of me. I was immediately relieved I had a buoy in case I got a cramp or burned out. I wondered if I got too tired I could swim to shore. If I did that, would I be uninvited, too dangerous to bring?

I had a lot of feelings while I was swimming. Damn this is hard. Am I even moving forward? Where is everyone? Is it okay to swim breaststroke? Do people ever swim backstroke? How tired is too tired? Will I be too tired to come back tomorrow? Am I even moving? Where is that blue thing? How long is this? Are we ever turning back? Oh my god, is that the sun? Jesus this is pretty. Don’t drink any water. I wonder if there is E. coli in the water today. God, I’m hungry. Where’s my friend? This is amazing. I can do this even if I’m tired.

At the blue crane, my friend turned around. Do you want to keep going? Or should we head back?

I don’t know, I said. I don’t want to slow you down.

She answered, Let’s do what you want today. I have to be home anyway.

Okay, I said. Let’s turn around. This is day one.

Great, she said and started swimming back.

When we got back, I asked, how long was that? She looked at her watch.

Two miles, she said.

Whoa, I said. Amazing.

Two miles is so boring in the pool, but in the lake, it flew by. Not a smooth flight, but a flight all the same.

I thought about Gattaca, the scene where the two brothers are swimming. The brother who has been manufactured to perfection by science(Anton) asks the brother who is an unmodified human(Vincent) how he managed to be so successful, how he managed to keep up in a system that was not built for him, how he managed to keep swimming.

Vincent, the unmanufactured human answered, “You want to know how I did it? I never saved anything for the swim back.”

I am no Vincent. I needed to think about the swim back. I needed to make breakfast, sit at a desk alert, be a mom, and stay relatively awake for the next 12 hours. This was as Gattaca as I got and it was good enough for me.

Thanks to BOF for knowing how to tell time.

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