We are back in Brighton after a last swim at Sea Point. The Sun shone, but the wind was high; there was some form of children's sailing class happenning on the far side of the bay - I wish I could tell you what kind of boats they were. I shall send a description to a sailing friend, and ask her to identify them...
I decided to do the crossing one last time. I would have kicked myself if I hadn't. The water was choppy from the wind, but the tide seemed quite still. It had been a while since my last long swim at Letterfrack, so I didn't push the pace - just tried to keep to a crawl as much as I could, or I thought I'd never get back.
When I know that I have a distance to swim, and it isn't one that I have to keep count of, (no monotonous lengths), I get to let my mind wander. If I hadn't been swimming for about twenty minutes, I would have been worrying about packing, travelling, contacting my friend in the city, moving on. Instead, I thought about Communist China (I'm reading Wild Swans, better late than never). I also realised quite how excited I was about an impending visit from my cousin and her husband who live in upstate New York - I hadn't seen John since their wedding.
It sounds odd, sounds backwards, but for me at least, it was the swimming that kept this trip from being a stressful one.
Tomorrow, we'll let you know how far we swum all in, and do a revue of the whole trip. For now, I'll quote you something I've quoted before :
Who am I to tell you
How to manage