Forcibly Struck

Early Morning Barton Springs Swim Report 2/5/2024

A windy morning, in the 50s, spooky but not in a bad way, subaquatic hanging garlands of greenery I kept swimming into. On my last length I reflected on the fact that I hadn’t seen any other swimmers in the pool—in blackest morning, it’s possible to share the pool with other swimmers unawares—and then, blammo, somebody socked me on the calf. It hurt. It was no longer darkest morning. The sun was pressing itself on the underside of the horizon; the sky was serge blue.

Lately I’ve been trying to amend my irritation at the people who swim fast without looking and come upon me quickly, human dolphins to my human tugboatery. I shouted at a snorkeler the other day because he was traveling—purposefully or coincidentally—with two other fast swimmers zig-zagging across the pool and I had dodged two of them but that was my physical limit. When he finally heard or saw me and lifted his head above the water, I apologized for shouting. Am I having a change of heart toward my fellows in the water? Have I become more generous of spirit, a forgiving tugboat? Not exactly. I just understand that if I get mad I’ll stay mad for a while and it’ll cast a shadow across the rest of my swim. This, too, is like novel writing: nothing is a catastrophe as long as you keep going.

The Austin skyline at blackest morning

It’s a lovely time of year at the pool. Yesterday I heard one of the Egyptian geese honking insistently, and yesterday I saw two Egyptian geese, and both things suggest goslings might show up. I have procured a large black boiled wool dress, very cosy and with ample room for me to modestly change inside, even in broad daylight. (I’m the broad.) I would like to embrace literal shadows and avoid the metaphorical ones.

After the punch to my lower leg, I said, with some urgency but no rancor, “Excuse me!” From behind me a woman’s voice said, “Sorry!” At first I couldn’t see her—I was still swimming, forward, forward, and then there she was, having got out of my way: a goddamn backstroker in the dark. Two of us in the vast pool, and her knuckles found my calf.

I forgive her. I think.