Cringe & Things that Rhyme With Cringe
Barton Springs Early Morning Swim Report, 10/18/24
For a while I got to the pool at 5:15 or 5:30. What with one thing and another, I get there later these days, sometimes as late at 6. What with one thing and another—I love that strange phrase.
Today it was in the 50s when I arrived at 6AM, so I assumed parking would be no problem, but the lot was filled with cars and groups of runners. Strength in numbers: the runners, pre-running, stood in big certain bristling pods and blocked the way. I parked far away and as I walked I heard four young women behind me psych themselves up for their run and discuss whether they liked parking on this side (south, with the only access to the pool pre-7AM) or north (where I wish they were). They spoke of some absent running friend. “She likes the other side,” said one woman. “That’s so cringe.”
I am a million years old (though with good lighting I can pass for 103) and even I know that is a very strange use of cringe.
But it was cold and lovely, with a big old moon. I got out at 7:10, when the sky was just starting to lighten. One thing I haven’t fully figured out: I can’t get into the pool area on the north side, my favorite side; the south side is much more heavily populated; in cold weather, I like to get out of my bathing suit after I swim. On the north side it’s easy to do this distant from people. I have my vast boiled wool dress. I can put it on and then remove my bathing suit. I wouldn’t like anyone I want to respect me to see me in action while I do this, but I am fairly sure I don’t expose any part of myself (except my dignity) in any way.
Today I did it on the south side, and two things happened: I turned back to my bag and spotted, quite nearby, a young man playing an acoustic guitar; I realized there was a hole in my dress, though I think you would have to put your eyeball up to it in the manner of a pervert and a keyhole to see anything I’d rather you didn’t see. By realized I mean: I felt a breeze upon my person.
I tried to take a picture of my friend, the comic heron, in the dark.
He’s in there. This photo was taken in the dark dark. I don’t know why it looks like l’heure bleu.
And when I got out, I took a picture of the moon, which for some reason always photographs as the sun. Does that make it photogenic, or not photogenic?
The time change will bring earlier sunrises. I always have mixed feelings about that. I do love the dark.
Perhaps that will be my epitaph: I do love the dark.
Where does one keep keys and cell phones and the like during the swim so they don’t get stolen? And I still marvel at your early am swim in the outdoors in the fall and winter. Of course I live in the north and it’s already 36 degrees in the mornings.
I'm having a similar affair with the dark and my morning mountain biking. I can wear a headlamp, though. I find your heron friend. I've found that they are usually bold, like this one, or very shy, taking flight at the first hint of humans. Most of ours are the shy kind, so your friend is a rarity.