Salty. This slowly emerged as my nickname, between me and my sis, over time and happenings. It quite suits me now—and did even before I took up open water swimming.
Years ago my sister ran into an old acquaintance from high school. As they chatted, my name came up in the conversation. My sister later reported to me that this woman said she liked me, thought I was “salty”, a rather unconventional and creative term of endearment. As this woman is herself an artist, I was amused by this unique reading on my personality and have come to fully embrace my “saltiness” over the years—and even more so this year—my first year of open water swimming in the Salish Sea.
I love the dried salt on my skin. Ever since I was little I would put off showering or bathing after swimming in the saltwater for as long as possible, not wanting to rinse away the fine dry dusty kiss of salt on my skin. There is no feeling quite like it. It’s water that leaves a mark, reminding you that you’ve been somewhere. Somewhere special.
My dog always knows when I’ve been swimming, bringing his soft tongue over to help lift the fine dust from my arms.
And now I have a sign—Get Salty. A dear friend gifted me with this sticker recently, and yesterday it found its place on our truck. Though not a huge fan of bumper stickers, I felt this one had a rightful place in the back window—another reminder to me to keep going back, get salty in my favorite wet refuge.
It might be fitting for me to add “stay salty”, as I work to embrace my salty character—coated in barnacles, draped in seaweed and adrift in my own sea of discovery and storms full of pirates and sea monsters and lost treasure in search of maps through unchartered waters.
After mounting the sticker on the truck I returned inside, away from the cold grey world, still pushing away the idea of a swim. The water is getting colder, even snowflakes in the weather forecast for the coming days. A swim sounded less than comfortable.
But as often happens, once I begin remembering why I swim, I find a way to pull myself together and make preparations.
Minutes later I was out the door, suited up and on my way to the landing. My mind feels more fuzzy lately with all that has changed for our country, vast leadership changes offering a swell of hope and light that we had forgotten was possible.
Whiplash is the only word I can pull up to describe how I feel right now. We have been jolted so many times, shaken, woken, rearranged, gas lit for so long by he who shall not be named, that I feel overwhelmed by the chance that we might actually make it through this as better beings in the end.
Damaged but okay.
Yesterday as I stepped in to the calm water, a strong tide pulled me south. I forcefully waved my bare hands about as the harsh sting set in, my mind fighting the cold, beating it down. I looked about, no sign of my seal friend, just the presence of a few lone gulls touching down along the shore, in search of a meal.
I swam fast, pulling along through the fuzzy green water, my eyes counting the white clam shells below me, helping me know that I was moving forward, covering ground. I turned around after a 1/4 mile, having firmly set my mind to limit my time in the water and not get too cold. The trip back was slow, the strong current combined with a steady wind forcing my lungs to work harder breathing through each stroke.
Swimming in the cold water forces one to feel everything and be okay with it all. Accept all of it—the lift of the waves, the ache of frozen cheeks, the burn of icy hands and the indescribable joy of floating. Yesterday swimming felt like flying, I felt apart of and above it all—apart of something so much bigger than me, and at the same time liberated from all of the thousands of thoughts and feelings weighing me down. The swim allowed me to get space from all of my thoughts, like looking down at myself from space.
I went to the water and washed my mind, my heart, my fears.
And after my swim I let the salt stay on my skin. Traces of where I’d been, who I am, reminding me that I’m okay.
I’m salty.
Mary Swims 
✨🎢🚀💥🚀🎢✨