It was a wind-whipped-rain-weather morning. My puppy was out of sorts, since it has been dry ever since he was born, so he couldn’t even do his business. A pack of coyotes, which has been swarming of late, was similarly flummoxed, yapping and crying just 150 feet off my back porch. The surf report indicated a calm ocean, but the day looked anything but calm. This late in the season, I thought it would be just fine to stay inside in my gym, and make use of the elliptical machine and some cross fit training. Tomorrow also advertised calm ocean conditions, so I could wait. Or could I? My trainer is coming over tomorrow, which would put off swimming until Friday. This late in the year, I want to get in the water as often as I can, because it is a long winter.

Given the uncertain conditions, I decided to wear my tri-suit, which is a partial wet suit, to take water temperature out of the equation. I applauded my choice when I got to the ocean. The wind was whipping at gale force sideways to the waves, spraying the surface water like foam in a beer commercial. The surf report was dead on, though. The waves were tame, at least for now. The report had them kicking up substantially between 6 Am and 9 AM, and I was getting in at 7:30.

The first thing I notice when getting to the water is the temperature on my toes. Not bad at all. The last thing I do before plunging in is adjust my goggles. Not such good news, because the band was loose around my head. I had brought along an older set of goggles because I had misplaced by new shaded goggles. No sun today, so I didn’t need the shade, but I did need them to fit. They did clamp tight about my eye sockets, so in I went.

I always look to the bottom to judge the visibility, and today did a double-take. It was like there was no water at all. I could count the grains of sand. A crab lifted one paw vertically toward the surface, as they are wont to do, almost as if he wanted to grab me by the nose, or certain more vulnerable parts. There is little that relaxes us more than clear visibility. Think of the joy of a panoramic view, or else recall the opposite in every horror movie you have ever watched. Horror lurks in the spaces you can’t see. Today there was nothing to fear. I might even be able to see a shark before he chomped the life out of me. What a bonus. My joy was short-lived, however, when I turned to breathe and the water turned up with me, splashing salt where there should have been air. I did get some air, and focused on my balance on the next breath, but it was not the balance that was the problem, but the vagaries of the wind, the waves, the water. The tri-suit was a new piece of equipment for me. The lower body is fully covered, while the arms are not. The neoprene is buoyant, so my legs felt like they were floating above the surface, pushing my head down. I didn’t need much of a kick to maintain balance, but I had to adjust to the weight differential to make this breathing thing work. I snuck in a few extra breaths, which means after two strokes instead of four. I often feel breathless until my body adjusts to the shock of 60-degree water. None of this is new territory, but even a simple task may seem more difficult on a gloomy day. It felt odd to be here by a deserted beach, with the whitecaps of the waves frothing like lobsters boiling too long, under an ominous sky of wind driven rain.

I looked to the shore once I was able to take in a few clean breaths, to see the hotel where I had entered the water looking right back at me. Odd. I thought I had been swimming a tad longer, and expected to see the yellow porch roof of a hot dog hut opposite me by this time. I stretched to bang out my strokes, digging in to push the sand and shells of the bottom behind me, yet they retreated only slowly. I looked again, to see the hotel again. Was I swimming upstream? I stopped to stand up, to see if I could judge the direction of the wind, though it was difficult to tell in the swirling mess of waves and rain. I could make out ripples on the water, perpendicular to the waves banging the shore, advancing like so many pointed fingers warning me back. It was going to be one of those days. I dove back into my swim, determined to brave it long enough to get my heart rate going, and salvage some exercise out of the day. I always have a turnaround point as my distance goal; sometimes the second ramp, or a hotel beyond that, or a bar on the far end of the beach if I am feeling ambitious. I had wanted to keep it right around a mile today, which meant the second ramp, but threw out all goals in these conditions and just went with the flow. After some effort the hotel was behind me, and the yellow roof too, as I approached the grey façade of the Parrot restaurant. I wondered how far I might make it, when a brown length of kelp was pushed back underneath me by the force of the water working against me, as if to warn me that the water had a mind of its own. Well so did I. I navigate direction by picking out a distant shore point, but conditions were not conducive to distant views. The chop and bounce of the waves often blocked my vision the few times I picked my head up to look, and the rain and foggy goggles obscured what there was to see. The crystal clear water was a savior, because I could maintain some direction by not getting too deep. That was my lifeline. I did not want to get sucked out deep into this mess.

I was past the Parrot, and approaching a bath house when I started to feel OK about the effort. It was slow going, but that meant the return trip would be an express lane. I forced myself to disregard progress, and just swim. It was going to be alright. And then it wasn’t alright any longer. The skies opened up like a curse. Suddenly, I could feel the driven rain like soft needles against my head. The howl of the wind was a warning each time I turned up for a breath, and the gloom had turned dark. All that was not black were the white froths of the waves, pounding in what seemed to be all directions. I worried about the surf report. The rising waves. I still had the clear water below the surface. I was not in over my head. But the crashing of water against the rocks was unnerving. Could I get yanked in that direction to suffer the same fate? But it was shallow below me. I could stand up. I kept telling myself I could stand up. So, I stood up.

Removing a wet suit in wind driven rain is not a task you look forward to, followed by the attempt to keep your sweat shirt dry enough while you put it on so you don’t freeze on the drive home. And then you have to rinse the equipment, hang it to dry. It’s not worth it for 15 minutes in the water, so I wasn’t going to quit. Rain can’t hurt you much when you are already wet. And the wind could only slow me down by the force of that water it pushed against me, but even against that I was making slow progress. It was just time in the water, now. Minutes on the clock. I pushed past the bath house, headed to the dance pavilion, when I decided I could make it to the second ramp after all. No sense worrying about how long it took. All I focused on was my stroke. Pull. Pull. Pull.

I was met by a welcome sight at the ramp: a couple in light blue rain gear who looked out at the water. I wasn’t alone! It is at least a slight comfort to imagine someone might dial 911 if a shark does taste me. I wondered at them walking out in this mess, and did not consider until now what they may have thought about seeing me in that water. They started down the beach from whence I came, and I turned too, shooting forward with a single stroke as if I had been shot from a cannon. The sand and the shells seemed almost to blur as they disappeared behind me. I was a modern Tarzan, racing Michael Phelps in my mind, and I might have beaten him, too, if he were forced to swim against this same current that pushed me along. I had never before traveled this fast through the water. It was an almost giddy feeling, like I was seeing it on a screen, because it didn’t seem real. I was keeping pace with the couple on the beach, though it is normally impossible for me to swim at walking speed. I might have tried to outpace them, had I not been so tired. Instead I relaxed, and slowed for a few strokes when I needed to. This was a time to enjoy an accomplishment. And just like in the movies, the skies cleared as I approached the end of the swim. The sun burst through as I neared the blue awning of the hotel. I stepped out of those waves onto sun splashed sand, and peeled off the suit to feel the warmth of the sun.

What a blessing it can be to face adversity, and come out on the other side.