Distance

I waited for the graceful pod of dolphins to pass, and a barking sea lion, then pushed off a barnacled rock into the Sea of Cortez. I swam farther out than usual, instead of along shore. I want to become more comfortable in deeper water, so I am slowly adding distance.

On the bluff above is a set of rocks I use as a landmark. Sometimes the current is stronger than it feels at first, and the boulder trifecta drifts east or west. Not really; it’s me who is drifting west or east, so I correct my direction while also keeping an eye out for pangas and other motorized boats. I wear a red cap while swimming, but their speed is a worry.

Three times each session I swim out toward La Baja, which is about 70 nautical miles away. Some days I can even see the mountains on the peninsula.

Swimming distance gives me courage in other aspects of life: I work on the novel; I remove rusting metal from Habibi’s teak railing; I write a Spanish script in order to confront the problematic guard; I face my feelings—get this—as they arise. See, I can do difficult things.

The physicality is deeply satisfying as well. After yesterday’s swim I conked out for hours, and when I awoke I simply could not worry about anything. Not one thing. A huge relief for this Anxiety-prone person.