swimming

So this is me after a slightly longer swim than normal after skipping two days. I wore myself out. I twittered this too, but I’m not sure being immediately sore is the sign of a good workout, or poor form, or overexertion, or not enough warming up, or the gap between times swimming, or just that it was at the end of a day where I was already a little tired.

No matter, off to the pool again this morning!

It was warm yesterday. I went to the beach late in the day but the water is 56 degrees F. The lifeguard says it doesn’t get into the 60s until June. I now know 56 is too cold for me now, my calves were instantly numb, and not in a good way. Hypothermia is not how I want to start out ocean-swimming.

I have investigated the wetsuit angle and it’s not for me. Too expensive, too restrictive. Perhaps that’ll change at some point.

I did see that they put stones, probably anti-erosion? On my beach Thornhill Broome. I really didn’t like the way it was breaking on the stones there. I’m not sure who I would ask about why and when the stones were placed. California Coastal Commission? State Parks? It is part of Point Mugu State Park. I’ve no idea who has ultimate jurisdiction and responsibility to add those rocks. It seems to me that someone put several tons of rocks on that beach, and the fact that I can’t find a public record of it is vexing. I’m sure it’s simply due to my ignorance of where to check.

So I went further south and just as I crossed the L.A. county line I saw a mess of kiteboarders:

I went further south, past Leo Carillo further south and went in near Guernsey Avenue. The lifeguard kid I talked to was affable and jokey. I was encouraged to see a chalkboard with the conditions. The 56 didn’t scare me off till I felt it.

There were a few dozen people dotting the landscape. Mostly people sunbathing or just chilling. A lot of people were taking photos of the impending sunset, hoping for a postcard shot, no doubt. After a bit of walking in the surf I went home.

Four days in a row swimming. Previous days-in-a-row maximum for daily lap-swimming: seven.

Day before yesterday I swam for longer, arrived early, and it was quite busy. There was a group of special needs kids doing laps. I waited patiently for an opening as all the other lanes were doubled. I had been nervous about lane-sharing since I had read so much stern etiquette about it, and it had been hard for me to see how two people swimming could avoid each other in a lane.

Anyway, I waited patiently and one young man with Down’s Syndrome and big goggles was walking past me as I wanted on the stairs. He was no more than 16 or 18 years old. He stopped a moment and said “Hi I’m Michael” and extended his hand to shake mine. I immediately took his hand and said “Hi I’m Joe.”

It was unusual inasmuch as I have seen swimming as a solitary event for me. I prize the time to erase the entire world and be immersed in the water and in listening to my malformed body. I listen to my legs scream at me when I kick hard, feeling my own mass fight with me as I glide and stutter through the water.

But the sociable handshake was nice moment. He was utterly guileless and when we were done shaking hands he moved on. Soon enough I was lane-sharing with another of the kids, who was being cheered on to “kick Kai, kick!” and not just, as my mother might say, dilly-dally in the water.

And then I swam. Soon enough Kai was done, and I was alone in the lane.

I wanted there to be a point to this post, some lesson. Whoops. There is none.

Have a good day!

So yesterday I worked a short day, then Leah and I did errands, including more last-phase moving from the old house. At the end of the day, Leah went to a blogger meetup thing in Calabasas, and while she was there I went to the great public pool near there.

I swam for longer than usual. Usually when I hit the pool it’s early in the morning and I’ll need to get back so I can start telecommuting. Or it’s at lunchtime and I need to get back to working. Or I’m on my way home after a long day and I’ve decided it’s going to be a solid 30, 35 or 40 minutes then I have to leave because the pool will be closing anyway.

But the hour and change was perfect. I did the same swimming regimen as usual.

Now, regimen is not accurate, really. I do laps with a mix of front crawls, breaststroke, backstroke, with more emphasis on my arms (my strength) and then my legs (my weakness), and occasionally I swim underwater exclusively, as though I were snorkeling, and probably once a session I try the butterfly, but I’m not very good at it. This is not a structured workout, really. It’s more like, “do whatever I want in the water. Perhaps I’m imagining what kind of swimming I would be doing if I had to swim to shore after a shipwreck: perhaps evade sharks (faster swimming); forage for food (underwater); hail a passing rescue helicopter (backstroke). No, I did not think about this, really; I’m retroactively trying to explain my creativity at swimming laps. Like exercise machines, I can’t look at lap swimming as drudgery. I have to turn the repetitions into unique experiences or I get caught up in how similar the experience is to a hamster on a wheel.

So one of the things I’ve been curious about is other pools, what other pool sizes are out there. I heard that the Ventura pool is quite large. The day before yesterday I was looking at website for it and I noted something interesting. It says in their rules: No excessive breath holding or hypoxic training.

Really?

So I wondered if I have maybe been doing this. If inadvertently. I hold my breath during some laps. It’s excellent practice for being out in the big waves. Sometimes a big wave will carry you down and hold you there for a little while, and like military training, I want to be prepared mentally and physically for this dangerous experience. Last year I noted that I like the implications of forceful, big waves:

It takes a great amount of force to move a man who weighs 24 stone. And I love that the waves can do that. Frankly, I enjoy it when the water is so strong I’m forced under for a time. I like being batted around. That means there’s real force happening. More force makes better rides. If I stop to think about the thousands of pounds of water that allow me to move at great speed I might get intimidated. Actually, I do think about it, and there’s a healthy respect that one might call fear. When I do too much I take a break.

So am I engaging in “hypoxic training” or “excessive breath holding?” I think I am, to some extent, but I’m dubious that it’s making me ready to, say, go to Everest. This critical article Taking the Hype Out of Hypoxic has some criticisms and a bit of praise for what it can and can’t do for you. I do it to challenge myself more than anything. And if my heart starts to feel like it’ll explode or I get tingling in my fingers, or I feel like I might pass out, I stop and breathe. This abstract from the Journal of Applied Physiology: “Effect of high-intensity hypoxic training on sea-level swimming performances:” indicates that truly low oxygen/hypoxic training (less than the normal percentage of oxygen in the air)—they used 15.3% O2 instead of 20.9%—well, it had no effect other than what the normal effects of 5 weeks of training would be.

Of course, I’m sure that the Ventura pool would turn away anyone who came in with exotic breathing apparati to swim, so they’re right out.

I’m going to go with common sense here and think that they simply don’t want people to hold their breath too much. But I am interested to hear what prompted the rule.

Over the past weeks I have seen my own ability to get across a pool without taking a breath improve, for a variety of reasons. I’m faster, my breath control is better, and my endurance is better. I’d be interested to see physiologically what’s happening with me as I engage in more swimming. It’s possible I’ve lost weight, but given that the scale is somewhere in a box I don’t really know. I’ve not kept track of my weight regardless. And in my mind, it’s not the point—I like to swim and I like the psychological, physical, and spiritual effects that come with that.

Or maybe I just dig chlorine.

I’ve been pondering how it is that I can get a mania for swimming when any daily exercise routine I’ve adopted has fallen by the wayside. But I have no trouble getting in the water to swim.

Last week I asked my friend Chris, who I’ve now known for 22 years, if it makes sense that I would have a desire to swim or go to the beach—like “is it consistent with my teenage self that I would obsess like this”—I think I was expecting something like “well you liked the water then, but it was never crazy per se.” He surprised me with something I apparently said when I was living with him and his wife, which was “I haven’t been to the beach in 4 days, I’m getting cranky.”

Friends are great for time capsules like that. I didn’t remember saying that, but moreover, I don’t remember feeling that in such a way that I’d be able to verbalize it. I’ve been adept at ignoring my feelings and wants over the course of my life, channeling those things into less positive obsessions, notably food.

So the current mania for swimming I have is a neat surprise, and one much with much more positive health effects. Though having my vision be blurry for whole days because I was refusing to swim underwater without goggles in chlorinated pools was probably not the best thing.

Further.

On the days I commute into L.A. and take the coastal route I get a charge, every time, from seeing the Pacific Ocean. There’s something huge and wonderful and horrible and beautiful about the expanse of the ocean. In many ways the scale of the sea is imponderable, like trying to imagine the distance to Saturn, or the National Deficit—I don’t have a sense of scale when directly confronted with it.

This gets me pondering the notion of something like baptism, and how it taps into a psyche like mine. I think of the fact that I am a godparent to Chris’ son. What does it mean to cleanse by water? What do I believe about what is happening in a religious ritual like baptism, whether by sprinkling, pouting, or immersion? If you want more information about the uses of water in religious practice, check the wikipedia article on baptism. It’s actually quite amazing.

One particular example: early in my relationship with Leah, I attended Tony’s Mormon baptism, which was quite fascinating. I found the outfits—white jumpsuits—somewhat silly, and the age of baptism unique, but the ceremony was quite reverent and lovely, with the whole family taking part. I enjoy the symbolic nature of such events.

The varieties of religious belief and practice and are sort of daunting, perhaps as daunting as the varieties of the appearance and attitude of the Pacific.

As I walked a spiritual path from Catholicism, to agnosticism, to atheism, and back, I felt a great many things. At times I was moved deeply by stirrings and notions whose nature I do not necessarily understand. The correlation I am hamhandedly making in this writing this morning is something about the awe one feels for a deity, or for a large and scientifically unmeasurable quantity—what is the sum total of love? how grand is the Pacific Ocean? what is the basis for faith or art or trust? To make a long rambling story short, I get sustenance from the water – from seeing the ocean, and from swimming—sustenance whose character I am perhaps only beginning to understand.

Maybe.

Before I had studied Zen for thirty years, I saw mountains as mountains,
and waters as waters.
When I arrived at a more intimate knowledge, I came to the point
where I saw that mountains are not mountains,
and waters are not waters.
But now that I have got its very substance I am at rest.
For it’s just that I see mountains once again as mountains,
and waters once again as waters.

– Ching-yuan

Have a good day.

Tuesday morning on the way to Camarillo I was stuck in some traffic:

Yesterday morning I went into work early, via PCH, and the overcast was sort of pretty:

And this is what I look like after a swim:

I think of swimming laps as a bit like methadone. I’m looking forward to the heroin of the ocean to be available.

There are much worse vices than swimming. I know because I’ve tried them.

Who am I kidding? I don’t want to write an ode. It’s six in the mornin’.

Starting early. Having lunch with a good pal I’ve not seen in a few years. This could be fun.

Swam yesterday, TWICE. Even shared a lane swimming laps. It was fine.

I swam every day in the past 7 days for at 30 minutes or more. Malibu, Calabasas, Camarillo, depending on the timing and day. I’m thus continuously sore.

What’s that they say? Pain is weakness leaving the body. I think that might be true.

I used to hate it when a wise instructor of mine, Mr. Paul Lemons, M.A., would say that “no learning is possible without pain.” I rejected this out of hand. With every year that passes—18 years have passed now—I understand the truth in his statement. I think he was paraphrasing Camus, but still.

Speaking of pain, Leah has a root canal today. Wish her well, won’t you? It’s gonna be great for her!

Not sure I will swim today, but then, I thought that day before yesterday, too.

Also, the moving process has begun. I hate it. My wallet is suddenly very thin from delivering deposit money. It’s all rather tight, considering TAX DEADLINE looming in the distance. But it’ll all get done. That’s how we do.

Have a good day, you. And as I used to say much more often, and am saying again more regularly—ONWARD.

So we got a phone call yesterday that we got the house where we’re going to live next. Having this settled (even in the absence of paperwork, which we’ll do today) is a great load off our minds. Once again the wisdom of simply driving around where you want to live and looking for signs kicks the ass of fancy internet web searches. I wish it were not so, but it is so.

What else, went swimming yesterday again (YAY!) and I’m again sore this morning. So what’ll I do? Well, probably go again today. And be more sore tomorrow? It’s probably a good sign that I’m sore after swimming. I know I’m using muscles I’ve been out of the habit of using. I think that must be an objective good for my health. I think.

It’s pretty great to get back in the water. Though really it’s a second-class version of going in the ocean, and I check http://watchthewater.org/ daily for water temperatures.

A few complaints about that site: it’s overdesigned and too heavy in adornment, it’s not simple to navigate, it does not include the water temperatures of Ventura County beaches.

And some praise for that site: it’s got data! hooray for water temperature data, I like that it has some maps, I like that it’s got some webcams of some of the beaches.

When I think about my complaints about watchthewater.org I think about creating a custom stylesheet or a Greasemonkey script that improves it.

Hurm. Is that it for the morning? I suppose that’s it for now. I think I’ve blogged every day this week. A trend? A blip? An outlier? Who can say?

Indeed, who can say. And moreover…

ONWARD.

Hah! Kicking it old school.

I was radar gunned by the Los Angeles County Sheriff in Malibu on my way to work. Got a pass because I was with the pack.

The day is beautiful. The Pacific was blue, shimmering, calm and inviting. If only the water temperature were higher. Ah well, no matter—yesterday I went swimming at a public pool in Malibu. It was windy but nice. I managed not to die, which was awesome. I was doing sprints and also did some breath-holding doing laps. I thought my head might explode but I made it across clean twice without breathing. As a younger person swimming underwater was easy as pie and I could hold my breath much longer. Working on conditioning is the thing. I want to have better stamina to enjoy the waves when the ocean temperature is in the range.

Half-considering just going in even if it’s in the 50’s Fahrenheit, though I doubt I’ll last long in there.

On the way home I got a call from my folks. My Mom’s new oral regimen of chemotherapy, meant to be taken daily, had too many side effects so she will cease and regroup. An appointment has been made to see the lead Chemo Doc to see what strategy is next (new drug? new dosage? new scheduling? live with side effects?). It was great to talk to my folks and sister.

Have I mentioned that my sister is getting married next month? Leah and I are flying out to Washington DC and it should be great. We’re all very happy for her. Her fiancee is a great fellow who I shall be proud to call brother-in-law.

In other family news, I helped Dev do his taxes (first time ever!) using TurboTax. He was very pleased and he’ll be applying his refund to paying off some of his own debt. I have to say I was pretty darn middle-aged and stepdaddish, helping him do his taxes. He had lots of questions as he went through their wizards. He actually had some 1099 income, W-2 income, and educational expenses. He also can no longer be claimed as a dependent on his father’s taxes so it’s really his thing now. He’s figuring his stuff out and I’m proud of him. I may not agree with all his decisions but he’s becoming his own man and he listens to counsel with earnestness. He’s got to be himself.

The kids and their Dad and Stepmom are all going to Spain this week and next so we’ll miss them but I gave Al my super-portable Spanish/English dictionary. I hope they have a great time. I entirely forgot that they’ll be there during Holy Week. That should be impressive for them. Leah and I feel a tinge of envy wishing we could do that kind of big trip—but that won’t be financially in the cards for probably three years or so. Hard to remember that we have plenty to provide even if money-wise we’re in a different position. Regardless, we’re taking care of business and them in the way we are able.

Thankful for reconnecting with Al. I’m also very glad to have never been and never having to be a teen girl. That’s a job I’d never want. Mind you, I used to suction sputum from people’s noses and mouths and airways, and I would prefer that to being a teen girl. Like Devon, and yet very differently, Alex is figuring out her stuff and I’m very proud of her and her accomplishments. We attended an awards ceremony and she was lauded as being supportive of the other kids and a standout. She is definitely that. I’m proud of the young woman she’s becoming.

Made some mix CDs for a buddy of mine over the weekend. That was a blast. It was all cover songs. I hope they will be enjoyed. I would post a tracklisting but I don’t want to spoil it for him. I may post a track list later on.

And with that, the week commenceth.

And hey, for old times, onward.

Some Zevon this morning, from a live recording on the Internet Archive that’s pretty good, which I found via UBM:

I can saw a woman in two
But you won’t want to look in the box when I’m through
I can make love disappear
For my next trick I’ll need a volunteer

And more Zevon:

The moon has a face
And it smiles on the lake
And causes the ripples in time
I’m lucky to be here
With someone I like
Who maketh my spirit to shine

If like me, Daylight Savings Time makes you lust for the Summertime, as it does me, you can see some ocean, along with vital statistics thereto, here: watchthewater.org. I hate that it stops at the Los Angeles County line, because the beaches I like are actually in Ventura County. There is not a like service for VenCo. I’ve talked about my favorite beach (these days) before.

Water temperatures in my ocean are still in the 56-58 degrees Fahrenheit, so, no go yet. But I did swim at the Calabasas Swim Center yesterday. This morning, I’m achey as hell. I suppose that’s normal. Will I go again today? Perhaps. Though I’m a bit concerned about the etiquette required to swim laps properly.

By the way, I really love the California Flag:

If this whole Federal Government of the United States of America thing doesn’t pan out, I’m gonna stick with the state that borned me. It’s an inspiring design. Perhaps I’ll get a T-Shirt with it.

Aw heck, more Zevon:

I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this, ha!

Rock and roll is pretty awesome. Lots of power. Yes, it gets corrupted and co-opted and put on soundtracks and commercials—all of which sucks. But yesterday I was in the car with Tyler he was riffling through my iPod and yes, he found the Postal Service I have, as well as the Ben Folds cover of the song “Bitches Ain’t Shit”—regrettable title and lyrics, but at age 15 he’s heard it before. But I was also able to expose him to The Orb’s “Little Fluffy Clouds;” Pete Townshend’s “Let My Love Open The Door;” and even Motorhead’s “Ace of Spades.” We also had a nice conversation about Prince, of all people. He was wondering “what the big deal was with him” when he noticed how much of his stuff I have. I pointed out that as a songwriter and musician he’s amazing, some even consider him a genius. We played Starfish and Coffee, from Sign O’ The Times, then I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man and Controversy to emphasize his musicianship. Then I hit him with “Kiss,” which Ty did not know was one of his songs. Then the endpoint was that the guy’s been doing this for 30-some years. Pretty coherent argument. He and Tony still like a whole lot of crap nu-prog Rock/Metal, but it’s nice to contribute to some music education.

Speaking of which, I really loved the documentary Rock School. No, not School of Rock, though I enjoyed that too. There’s a new documentary coming out called Girls Rock!, via Jezebel:

Here’s the official website: http://www.girlsrockmovie.com/. Perhaps I’ll suggest we seek that one out while it’s in theaters down in L.A.

In other and more substantial news, we need to move by April 25th. Our lease it up. We’ve started looking, though Leah considers it too early to be taken seriously. This week I’m going to call our management company and see what might be done. I think the best possible things can and will happen. I hate moving. Everyone says that, and of course we mean it.

And here endeth the blog post.