Sometimes when you slip into the water you can slip into a rhythm – you’re in the groove – where you stop thinking about your technique (poor), your speed (leisurely) or whether you’re slowing down the other swimmers in the pool (usually!); today was one of those days. After 400(?) days of working all through the pandemic, this was my first day of furlough.
I hadn’t really thought about it too much when I was working – good to be busy and glad my role was considered necessary to carry on; it was only when I was told I would have to be furloughed one day a week I started to think maybe my role wasn’t that vital; maybe I wasn’t as secure as I thought I’d be. The thought of sitting at home doing nothing scared me, and I knew from past experience that that’s when you start to dwell on the negative, and before you know it you’re on the long slippery slope to depression and self loathing. I knew I had to keep myself busy on my furlough day – but what to do? Not enough time to learn a foreign language or to get the ukulele out of retirement for another stab at mastering a musical instrument; little incentive to decorate the house as we’ll be moving in the near future, and DIY jobs never get finished in one day anyway.
As I started to tire towards the end of my swim I started to lift my head and look outwards, beyond the limits of the steamy windows to the fluffy clouds drifting along in the blue sky beyond. Suddenly I wanted to be out there, under the open skies, swimming in and with nature, or at least swimming unfettered by concrete and steel; open water swimming, wild swimming, lidos – I’d spend my one day a week visiting different swimming locations – getting out of the house and keeping away from depression. I knew I’d get as much pleasure and distraction from the planning as from the swimming itself, and if I could combine each swim with a cycle well, even better. And so it begins.