Oh little ocean, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways…
~ The water in my ears
~ The salt in my mouth
~ The nausea you bring to my stomach
~ The headache that is a sad little surprise each and every time
~ The voice in my head screaming “Get out! Get out! Get out! No seriously, GET OOOUUUUT!!!”
~ The murkiness and 30’ depth of the Ala Moana swim channel
~ That thing where you look up and find you’ve been going in the wrong direction for 50m and have to get back on course
~ The salt, did I mention the salt?
~ The wobbilyness from the seasickness when I finally emerge from the water
It’s almost impossible to believe I’m a Pisces and the daughter of a sailor. However, I managed to swim half the distance of the race with Coach J today. As usual, I hated every single second of it, especially how quickly Coach J would disappear into the murk. If a shark was coming to get me I would have no clue until it was already upon me.
Everyone says “don’t worry about sharks” almost as if we don’t live in Hawaii where there’s a heck of a lot of sharks. And I want to respond with “It’s not a frickin’ lake people! Geez!” It seems so logical to me to worry about sharks but I guess when it comes right down to it there would be nothing I could do anyway.
So what then is the difference between this and say skydiving? Why the rush of exhilaration from one instance of knowingly putting myself in harm’s way but only fear from the other? I never worried about the parachute opening. It seemed so unlikely that anything would go wrong. I just reveled in the joy of living in the moment, the sensation of freefall, the view from above, the instant snap into a new perspective of just how much there is to experience in life.
Skydiving was bliss in flight and I did it bang-bang-bang three times in a row. Swimming continues to just feel uncomfortable and wrong.