From the beach I ended my swim today in fading light, a shifting palette of shades of grey coloring water, sky and land in every direction.
Clouds to the west hung low over the first snowfall I’ve seen this year on the Olympics—a clear and silent reminder that winter is fast approaching.
Today I was prepared for the cold. I wasn’t prepared for my solitude to be shaken by a leaf blower whining incessantly across the bay. The water amplifies all sounds, pleasant and unpleasant.
Shaking off my annoyance with the noise and refocusing my eyes over the still water, I breathed deeply knowing that once I dove under this buzzing world and my deafening thoughts would retreat. They always do.
My path south was smooth and refreshing, the water a speckled shade of green. The water almost looked half frozen, but more likely the result of days of strong winds that stirred up the water like cake batter, thick and heavy.
The water feels heavier now as the temperature continues to drop, but my body seems to be cooperating with these continued late fall swims, as I seem to have pushed my mind to accepting the abrupt rush of cold. I dread it until I get suited up, but then an urgent anticipation sets in and I can’t wait to push through the cold and get to swimming wild and free.
To keep swimming now is taking a strong will and steadfast commitment to this journey I have set myself upon.
Raindrops fell lightly as I paused at my half way point today, offshore from a lone grey house with windows glowing warm with light from the inside. I floated a bit, and spotted a blue heron perched, head tucked low, upon a nearby buoy.
Like a curious seal, or at least hoping to appear seal-like, I slowly glided towards this great bird, happy to have found one friend out in all that water with me, enjoying the day. The stillness. The space.
Two dingy lengths away, I paused and watched this grand bird spread his wings and take flight.
I swam strongly back to the road end, scanning the bottom for shells and creatures. As I neared the start my eyes caught sight of a perfect clam shell book.
Another place to capture my stories.
As I peeled off my wetsuit and booties I sensed a numbness again in my middle toe on my left foot.
My toe and the tissue around it on the ball of my foot had gone completely white. The good news is that the numbness and whiteness wore off—hours later—and I’m a little bit familiar with this phenomena, having seen it on other swimmers’ extremities—in life and on screen.
I’ll keep an eye on it, read more about cold water safety, Raynaud’s syndrome and keep swimming.
It just feels so good. And, I figure I have nine other good toes.
If my head goes white then I’ll have a real problem….
Mary Swims 
🎉🍃🥀🏊🏻♀️🥀🍃🎉