Lucidly Free in a Bit of Chlorine

I find swimming to be one of the most wonderful activities in which I can partake. I know for some running is their release, but I've never fallen in love with running the way I have with swimming. It's so freeing and light, gliding through the cool water. It softly embraces you, surrounding you in peace and quiet. Underwater is still. Light reflects through its blue waves, dancing patterns on the floor. They're ever-changing, moving with the pace of the water. As you speed up, they dance all the more furiously.

Peace is not only found in the reflections playing beneath you. The repetition of laps, back and forth, over and over, one side to the other, is methodical and almost meditative. Right arm over, left arm over, right arm over, breath, left arm, right arm, left arm, breath, right, left, right, breath. Over, and over, and over. It isn't something you have to think about, your arms just move, your head turning to gulp in a bit of air before it's back in the water. In the moments your head comes up, you are surrounded by sudden sounds. The music playing, chatter of patrons or lifeguards, whatever other sounds are around, and then it's back into the water. The sounds are muted, peace and tranquility again.

The water is so freeing, so forgiving, so non-judgmental. You feel powerful as your arms pull through the water, legs kicking to propel you forward. And the water doesn't care. It doesn't care how you look, sound, speak. It doesn't care what you know or don't know. Your interests and passions and likes and dislikes are unimportant to the cool blue enveloping you. Goggles obscure your face, no one can see the impurities or imperfections. The water doesn't care who you are or where you've been. Through the water everything is a distortion, no one can see the scars or your imperfect body. And the water, the water doesn't care. You're free. Your thoughts can roam with no inhibitions. Worries about what people think of you can be lost for at least a few moments, because no one can see you clearly, and the water won't judge.

Everything is quiet and still. It's almost meditative. You settle into your stroke, it begins to feel like second nature. You could go on forever, swimming peacefully, back and forth, in the cool, dancing, loving water. Back and forth, back and forth, right, left, right, breath.