FISH OUT OF WATER
By Sue Ellis
By Sue Ellis
Swimming. Twenty laps every morning – I always wanted to be a whale.
Freedom. There is something primitive about being surrounded by the density of water that allows me to shed both the physical and mental gravity of my everyday life. Time stands still and I am grateful that the recurring demands of my existence have no chance of taking hold in the slippery water for the duration of my immersion. The whole experience is ritualistic. I rise early before most people even contemplate that first step out of bed that hurtles us headlong into another day. The morning is still and quiet. I feel only semi-aware of my body as I fumble and stumble my way to the car and drive through the dark and slumbering neighbourhood. Feelings of privilege and silent camaraderie pervade my still numb mind as I join the other sleepy faces being inexplicably drawn towards the entrance of the local council leisure centre. The doorway provides the intersection point where our lives briefly yet anonymously connect. I pass from the real into the unreal (or is it from the unreal into the real?).
Cold water shocks my body awake. Slowly, I start moving, edging towards my goal at the other end of the pool. The water becomes warmer as my blood gets thinner and moves faster through my veins to the extremities. The heaviness of my breathing brings a rush of lightness to the head and I feel consumed by the water – home, at last! The air bubbles massage my face as I push forward through the water. I count the laps, almost subconsciously. My mind is free to pursue thoughts, both deep and random, while my body is occupied by the rhythm. I feel hypnotised and totally liberated.
Lap after lap, day after day.
After twenty laps, the adrenalin pumping through my vascular system is exhilarating. Reluctantly, I stop swimming. I float on my back for a few minutes listening to my breathing as it slows and revel in my triumph over the elements. In the pool – I rule! I know that it is the best that I will feel for the next 23.5 hours.
Leaving my spirit behind in the water, gravity obeys the universal and immutable laws of physics and transforms me from graceful weightlessness to immovable stone as I head through the doorway and back into the real… or the unreal...
Freedom. There is something primitive about being surrounded by the density of water that allows me to shed both the physical and mental gravity of my everyday life. Time stands still and I am grateful that the recurring demands of my existence have no chance of taking hold in the slippery water for the duration of my immersion. The whole experience is ritualistic. I rise early before most people even contemplate that first step out of bed that hurtles us headlong into another day. The morning is still and quiet. I feel only semi-aware of my body as I fumble and stumble my way to the car and drive through the dark and slumbering neighbourhood. Feelings of privilege and silent camaraderie pervade my still numb mind as I join the other sleepy faces being inexplicably drawn towards the entrance of the local council leisure centre. The doorway provides the intersection point where our lives briefly yet anonymously connect. I pass from the real into the unreal (or is it from the unreal into the real?).
Cold water shocks my body awake. Slowly, I start moving, edging towards my goal at the other end of the pool. The water becomes warmer as my blood gets thinner and moves faster through my veins to the extremities. The heaviness of my breathing brings a rush of lightness to the head and I feel consumed by the water – home, at last! The air bubbles massage my face as I push forward through the water. I count the laps, almost subconsciously. My mind is free to pursue thoughts, both deep and random, while my body is occupied by the rhythm. I feel hypnotised and totally liberated.
Lap after lap, day after day.
After twenty laps, the adrenalin pumping through my vascular system is exhilarating. Reluctantly, I stop swimming. I float on my back for a few minutes listening to my breathing as it slows and revel in my triumph over the elements. In the pool – I rule! I know that it is the best that I will feel for the next 23.5 hours.
Leaving my spirit behind in the water, gravity obeys the universal and immutable laws of physics and transforms me from graceful weightlessness to immovable stone as I head through the doorway and back into the real… or the unreal...
