With our Alcatraz swim a couple of days away, our nerves are getting jangly. Sheila, Angie, and I met up at the bulb for another longish swim to remind ourselves (again) that we can do it.
The conditions were friendlier today; rolling waves that washed over us in easy, predictable patterns. The sky overhead was blue with dark fog over the Berkeley hills which the sun peeked in and out of as we swam along. This meant each time I lifted my head to breathe a different set of colors and light greeted me.
I felt solid and strong in my swimming; Angie and Sheila did, too. We swam out past the point and even past the point of the point. We were determined to get at least a mile and a half under our belts and we succeeded.
As I tackled this distance, which is long for me, I kept thinking about Allison, one of our local swimmers. For months she’s been training for a Catalina swim that’s slated to take place the day after our Alcatraz swim. I’ve watched her in awe as she spends five hours or more swimming in the bay, even in the winter, diving in at the crack of dawn sometimes, spending the long hours alone sometimes. It’s all totally amazing to me. That Catalina swim is totally amazing to me. And the preparation she has put into it is inspiring. I know I should probably feel like my distance and preparations are nothing compared to hers, but, instead, I feel an affinity with her. Like a little bit of her magic is rubbing off on me.