And for something entirely off the track of what this blog-thing is usually about.
I really enjoy swimming. It’s really the only form of exercise that isn’t soccer that I’ve ever enjoyed. I don’t like running, I don’t like lifting weights. I guess I like riding a bike, but not in a way that would count as exercise. But for some reason, swimming presented itself when I went to grad school. The first time I got in the pool, I made up my mind that I was going to swim five laps, and I wasn’t going to get out of the water until I had done that. It sucked ass–it took me almost 45 minutes, and my body was absolutely incredulous that I had done such a thing. I could barely hold up my pants to put them back on when I was done.
For some reason, I went back the next day. And the next. After several months, I was in shape and pretty pleased with myself. During the two years of school, I went regularly and it made me happy to do it. Then I had to leave, MFA in hand and get a job. This really cut into my 1. leisure time, 2. writing time, and 3. swimming time–surprise, surprise.
I’m on my third job in three months (a good thing, really!), and I am lucky enough to be able to work from home three or four days a week. I’ve decided to take this opportunity to get back to swimming on a semi-regular basis.
And here’s what it is about swimming that makes me thoughtful: swimming, experientially, is the action that most removes my mind from my body. In most every other thing that I do regularly, my brain and my body have to be on the same page, one intermingling with the other. Even when I’m walking down the street, it is a matter of where I’m going, why I’m out, should I stop and get something to eat while I’m out, look at that person, don’t get hit by that car, etc.
But while I’m swimming, it is as though my brain is simply floating in the machine that is my body. At this point, the strokes and the breathing needs are pretty unconscious, and my mind can do other things: think about writing, remember regrettable moments, concentrate on the motion of my limbs as they create momentum. It is the odd moment when I realize that I have no idea how many laps I’ve done, and then try to recreate my thought process to kind of count backwards to figure out where I am. I suspect (strongly) that other people who are exercisers have this same experience, but I thought it was worth noting.
I wrote more and better when I was in school and in shape. I don’t have the same amount of time to read and my general environment is very different than it was. The opportunities are fewer and farther between for me to immerse myself in poems and discussions of books. The onus is on me more now than it ever was to motivate myself to work on something for which I will not be paid. It hasn’t been working for the last year plus (although recent developments give me hope). Swimming seems to be something that I have been given back. Perhaps this will be a first domino.
Also. It snowed in Baghdad today. For the “first time in living memory.” I find this indescribably awesome.
