Screw This, I'm Going Swimming

You forget what it feels like. My world has become limited: I can see only what the tiny windows of my goggles allow. I want to watch the others, want to pace myself against them, but they are not in my range of vision and I am forced to look ahead at my steady, fumbling strokes. It does not come back, the speed. You forget it and it is not something that you can remember, but something that you must earn.
My world is not silent; it is the roaring of bubbles against my ears and the pounding of my outstretched arms against the water. It’s exhilarating and frightening at the same time. In the water I am so very alone. Here I cannot have any misconceptions about myself. In my ears it is only the water and my own persistent stream of conscious. You cannot lie about your abilities in the water, you can’t fake it. My thighs are burning and I am moving and I cannot make it appear that I am faster or more graceful than I am. The echoes in this room are the voices of the people who are watching me and my weaknesses, and I accept it because to leave would be to admit defeat, to be controlled by my own discomfort instead of my will, which drives me on. I try to distract myself by focusing on how many breaths I am taking. I want to breathe on the fifth stroke but my lungs are bursting and soon I am breathing on the third and it’s not good enough but it must be…
In this space I am focused, very aware of myself and in control of my movement. The rhythm has hold of me and I am gliding steadily and my rampant thoughts are the only sign that I am letting go and all I can think is that I wish I could be this way out of the water. I wish that I could live my life as intentionally as I swim. But I do not waste time in contemplation; would that I was so level-headed. Like in every other aspect of my life I am overtaken by the moment and I let my head be filled with the rushing of water on my eardrums and the pounding of my heart and I keep going.

Why Blog?

I never really liked the concept of blogging. Post on the web for all to see? But I am guilty of a serious misinterpretation. Contrary to the concept of a live journal or the like, blogging is my chance to write, well, whatever I want, and bare it for the world to see. An aspiring journalist, I make a point of writing each day. Why not here? Not that the physical act of putting ideas on paper doesn't hold a certain romanticism, the smell of the notebook, the light cracking sound it makes as you open it to the first page... Well, at least I'll be able to say I gave this a try.