Kevin and I drove all day long and, at the end of it, nothing felt quite so good as getting into the water at the Albany Bulb.

I brought home a cold and mostly came home wanting to crawl into bed, but I didn’t feel bad enough to miss a swim and so off I went.

It was the best thing.

First of all, after a day folded up into a car, sedentary, and cramped, nothing feels better than the release of floating and stretching in water. It’s unbelievably healing from hours crouched over a steering wheel.

Secondly, as I discovered when I swam with Covid after returning from Vancouver, and again when I had my cold after returning from Montreal (I’m sensing a trend…What’s up, Canada?) immersion in cold water helped. It seems counterintuitive, but consistently, every time I’ve been sick, getting into the cold er makes me feel better. I can’t go long or hard, but just being in that floaty, supported state feels healing. 

Today was no exception. I dreaded going, but I felt wonderful as soon as I was in. As much as I love my swims in faraway places, there is nothing like my home waters.

It was nearly sunset as I got in and the calm, glassy water was beginning to soak up the changing colors of the sky. I didn’t have my thermometer, but it felt warm after the icy swims up north, but still cold enough to be invigorating. (According to some random website I just looked up, it was 57, which feels about right). 

Swimming here at sunset shines a light on the tree that symbolizes the Albany Bulb to me. In the morning it’s backlit and so the pictures I take don’t do it justice. This afternoon, thought, it was in its full glory. This tree (which is actually a cluster of Eucalyptus trees, but seems like one tree when you are out in the water, is my beacon when I’m out in the bay and it’s time to swim home. Watching it come ever closer is always a celebration. It’s safety and comfort and the feeling of coming home.