Angie and I joined the 8 o’clock swimmers this morning, though they shot off before we were even in the water, so it was just the two of us. Determined to get a good, hard swim in, we refrained from chatting and just swam.

It wasn’t especially wavy, but the water still churned, and as I relaxed into swimming it tossed me around, pulling me this way and that, gently rolling and shaking me.

I like the feeling of surrendering to the water and letting it jostle me. This is one of the biggest differences between swimming in the bay versus my summer in the clear, fresh, water of Lac Louisa. There, the water seems indifferent to my presence; it doesn’t hold me up or toss me around. It’s a pristine canvas for me to move through. In contrast, the bay is an active participant; its salty substance holding me aloft; its currents and waves taking me for a ride.