I’m back!
I just got back from a surreal swim in the Gulf of Mexico. Not the ocean I was reminded, but the Gulf. I packed my wetsuit for this business trip to Naples knowing that if I had it, there would be a better chance of me swimming in the 65 degree water. When flying over Naples on the way in from JFK, I could see through the bright green water, all the way down to the bottom. It was so clear I literally wanted to jump out at 4,000 feet and swim to shore.
After an early morning run on the beach and a productive day in the office, I raced out the door at 4:45pm, getting down to the beach, wetsuit on and in the water by 5:10pm, knowing full well the sun would set at 5:45pm. I both wanted to be there for the sunset and knew from past experience that when the sun does set in Naples, it gets dark pretty quickly. I done with my insanity phase of swimming by myself at night. It’s dangerous enough swimming by yourself, let alone in a different state where you know no one.
The swim was my first ocean swim in months and it was fantastic. My wetsuit kept me floating on the surface and my pool swimming seemed to help me speed along like never before. The water was flat and clear. There was no breeze, no chop, and therefore no sand kicked up from the bottom. I could easily see 20 feet down and felt like I was buzzing along the surface at 20mph. Given I had no one swimming with me, I’ll gladly keep that fantasy going for a while.
I was the only one in the ocean at the time. Not even a child was seen playing in the shallows. However the beach seemed to have its fair share of people on it out for an evening stroll or setting up their chairs like they always do to watch the sunset with a cocktail in hand and the honey in the other. I watched as a few tourists snapped pictures of me, probably considering it strange to see a swimmer in early January. Or maybe they were hoping to catch me just as a tiger shark rose up out of the depths to grab my torso in it’s massive jaws and fling me 10 feet into the air. They looked like the YouTube posting types.
I did an out and back swim along the beach to the pier on 12th Avenue South. Not a long swim at .8 miles, but nice nonetheless. I started from the North heading South, and upon my return, since I breath to my left, I watched the sun get closer and closer to touching the water as it set. The sky could not have been prettier. It was beginning to turn all sorts of shades of red, orange, and purple given the glow of the setting sun was getting deeper and richer with every passing minute.
At about 27 minutes into the swim, I had to stop swimming and I just began to float and stare at the majestic horizon. It was literally too peaceful, too serene, to swim or to make noise. Everything began to stand still. The world seemed to be standing still for those precious 10 minutes. The beach quieted. The tourists stopped walking and instead turned towards the sun. The couples on the beach stopped talking and just held hands. Babys seemed to stop crying and even the birds seemed to settle in for the final minutes of the sunset. For anyone who has witnessed a Gulf of Mexico sunset, they will know what I mean. They will also know that when it touches the horizon, disappears completely in what seems like 3 minutes or less. Knowing this, I didn’t want to miss a second of it.
To take full advantage of the whole experience, I actually lowered myself in the water so that my mouth was underwater and my eyes were just above the water line. I wanted to get as close to the wrinkle free water as possible to really become part of the setting sun experience, and not just witness it from afar. The strategy worked as my entire field of vision was nothing but smooth aberrations in the water reflecting a deep orange sun lighting up the purple sky. It looked like this...
I listened closely for the sizzle as the edge of the sun hit the edge of the earth. At that moment, time stood still. All that I heard was a boy playing on the beach in the distance. Not even the lapping water on the beach could be heard because there really wasn’t any. There were two kayakers about a ½ mile out whose paddles quietly came out of the water at that moment and who just floated at sea without saying a word to each other. The purple clouds spotting the sky had that orange glow around their trailing edges. My mind silenced, as did my once ailing heart.
When it was all over, the whole 10 minutes, I realized that I had needed that moment of serenity much more than 15 more minutes of swimming. There will always be 15 more minutes of swimming for me, somewhere, sometime. Sunsets like those however don’t happen too often, especially being the only person in the water for as far as the eye could see.
That swim was one of those swims that I will have maybe once or twice a year, that I will clearly remember forever. The last one I had that brought me to that place we long for, the escape from every day life, was at dusk on a warm summer day in Connecticut.
I felt great afterwards. I felt at peace. I felt that I had somehow reacquainted myself with my higher power. I felt warm and safe. Nobody ever said this sport of triathlon had to be all about competition. Since we train a heck of a lot more than we race, I hope and pray we all continue to get the most out of training, which can mean a lot more than fitness. I sure did last night.
Write to me jdyment@earthlink.netabout your most memorable moments in training, where something spiritual or emotional happened to you. Keep it short and I’ll post them for everyone to read.
Jeff Dyment lives and works in Weston CT. He has been doing triathlons for the past 3 years, and competes in the long course and short course formats. His goals for this season are to be injury free, feel good when crossing finish lines, and to get a dog. He is single but has three children who keep him quite busy.