I woke up Sunday morning to see the warmth leaching from the lake and had to remind myself that I love to swim in cold water.

It’s actually not that cold yet, or even very cold at all. It was 65° on Sunday, which is about what it was when I left the San Francisco Bay. Back then I thought it was so warm. Temperature must be one of the most relative sensations of all. Maybe it’s just the way I was watching that steam rise that made me think it was cold, imagining all the warm water floating up to the clouds.

As always, I’m grateful for my commitment to put my body into water most days for the unexpected joys that come from swimming when it’s not necessarily swimming weather. On Saturday, it was with Isa, both of us giddy at the pleasures of swimming in the rain, droplets of water exploding on the surface of the lake like little jewels.

On Sunday Sammy and I braved the “cold.”

I am looking forward to colder water. At least I think that’s true. Snuggled up on the couch wrapped in a blanket writing this, the words sound false, but I trust I will still love cold water swimming when I get there again.