Last night was rough. Not only in the Pacific. But in life.
I'm writing for the sanity of myself. To tell myself that things will be okay. Life moves on whether you're ready or not.
Before my life was turned upside down, I was as happy as I could be. I went to Fletcher, alone, and swam out past the breakers. I glided. I floated. I laid on my back and watched the sun set. I stared into that sun until it was burned into my eyes. Closed my eyes and that sun remained, even after setting. I stayed out there as long as I could handle it. I swam back in, truly at peace. Then I walked back to reality.
The ocean has always done that for me. It's been my place. To clear my head. To relax. To release. To lose all worries. To not care about time. To hammer. To help. To train.
I swim because I love the way my body feels rolling through water. I love the repetitiveness of it all, as crazy as that sounds. I love getting into a grove, counting my strokes, ever dialing in the angle of my arms pulling through the water. I love being technical and precise and not having either one of those overwhelm me. I love the control I have. I love that my feet feel like fins as I kick. Nothing is better than a wetsuit-less backstroke with the sun pouring in my face.
I hope the ocean will always be that for me. I'm going to need it these next couple of weeks.
Riding the waves of life, like always...only this time a breaker crashed on top of me and I'm a little disoriented. In time I will make my way to the surface again. And paddle my way back to life.