Beginnings?

There was only one person swimming laps this afternoon. It was me. The air was cold liquid fog, and the pool steamed into the pine trees. Two other people had braved the unfavorable weather, the 17-year-old life guards--one girl and one boy--who were fifty meters away on the opposite end of the pool. They apparently had determined that I did not need much guarding because they were playing a game between themselves, the flirtatious rules of which have become less clear to me in the decades since I was 17.

I almost did not go to the pool today. I think I was afraid of what might happen if I did. It was the first time I've been in the water since I tried to practice at SOMA with pain from a disc that I did not know had ruptured. On that day, I could not make my arm work through muscle spasm and pain. I've had enough pain and failure for awhile. I don't want any more. Yet moving forward is not possible without risks.

I did not know what might happen as I stripped down to my swim suit and dropped into the water. I've lost six to eight pounds, mostly upper body muscle on my right side, since the nerves across my back and down my arm were impinged. I haven't needed pain killers for two solid weeks; but, what would it feel like to pull? Would it hurt? Would it work at all? Could I turn my head to breathe?

I planned to just work drills and improve my form, starting with kicking and balance drills that would not require any pulling or head turning. The risk was rewarded. I set no speed or distance records, but I did something I haven't been able to do for two months.

I swam.

I guess when you're 17, like the lifeguards in love, every day is a beginning of sorts. When you're 40, beginnings don't seem to come along quite so often--although I encounter them more frequently now than I did before I found this wonderful sport.

If I'm able to reach the start line of Ironman Wisconsin, I might just look back on this day and see something special. Today just might be my beginning.