Once more, a last time into the drink

As I write this, it's not quite 8 a.m. on the longest day of the year, and I've already been to the pier and back for a morning swim in the Bay. I swam the perimeter again today, past my friend the Balclutha and the open gate of Aquatic Park that points directly towards Alcatraz. The water was exceptionally flat and still today, and cold as well, and I can only hope for similar conditions on Sunday. When I jump off that boat next to Alcatraz, and head in towards Aquatic Park, I won't care at all about the water temperature. Cold water does not bother me. But the currents are another matter.

It was a little sad for me today, when I woke up before sunrise for the last time this season. I've been doing it for so long now, and it seems fitting to me that I finished my open water training on the longest day of the year; that I got to watch the sun rise over the Bay for the last time on the day when we both showed up there earlier than either of us had all year.

I met my friends from my team--Maria, Melanie and Dave--and we plunged in together. They have all raced already. I'm still waiting. I hope we can meet like this after I finish. I like it, in the cold and the dark. I enjoy the camaraderie.  As we swam, I looked ahead at Melanie, and behind to Dave, across and over at Maria, and was conscious that this  was coming to an end. I'm not ready for it to come to an end. The next time I plunge into that cold green wet, it will be to race.

This morning I stood shivering in the dark in front of the heater. For six months I've been getting up before dawn to push myself as hard as I can, before the day even begins for most people. Today that ends.  

I'm going to miss it.