The first ocean swim

I am alive. I wasn’t swept off into the ocean by some rogue wave. I was swallowed up by some whale. I was snack food for some other creature. That doesn’t mean that the ‘da-dun, da-dun, da-dun…’ wasn’t playing in my head. Although at first the concentration cap was on. But as I was swimming back and forth, 50 yards in one direction and then 50 yards back, I thought I can’t see very far in this not so clean water. Next thing I knew the idea of not seeing the ocean’s creep crawlies became the idea of not seeing some shark chomping down on me. After that I was just completely off. My straight swim became completely off course. Oddly enough, I’d look up in between strokes to find myself heading to sure. Internal warning? Perhaps. Worry wart? Most likely. There was another couple there just wading around. The girl was nervous and her boyfriend assured her that there were no sharks there. There had never been sharks there. I wanted to pipe up and say, “Well actually that isn’t true. In 1982 they caught a 10ft hammerhead right here on this beach.” Yet, I refrained. Why worry someone else? I was doing enough for the both of us.

My breathing also fell off balance from my strokes. Soon enough there was that yummy taste of saltwater in my mouth. I was rinsing off my wet suit when my sister stopped by. She asked where I had swam. I was then informed, “That beach is closed because of the bacteria levels in the water. That is why we’ve been going to the island.” Great! However in addition to surviving I also woke up this morning free of any disease and all body parts in tact. Note to self, swim at the island.

The boyfriend promises that it gets easier. Let’s hope so because August 6th is right around the corner. I also have no plans on visiting Davey Jones for my next vacation.