Sheila and I met at 5:30 for a sunrise swim this morning. It’s remarkable how bright it already is at that time.
Even more remarkable was the wild windy surf. It was a different world from yesterday’s tranquil glass. It’s no wonder I never grow tired of swimming here.
The waves pitched and pulled me as I front crawled along, taking me on a wild adventure. I relaxed into their momentum and enjoyed the ride.
I thought about the contradiction of me loving these waves and being so utterly terrified of the ones breaking at the ocean. It’s different, of course. These waves can’t pummel me into the sand. But even the swells out past the breakers made my heartbeat quicken in La Jolla. Here they just make me laugh.
We swam out to the point, stopping midway to watch the sun emerge from behind the Berkeley hills, to feel its warmth on our faces.
Swimming back was a blast; every couple of strokes a big wave would shove me forward, making me feel like the speed demon I am most certainly not.