Photo by Tanya Puntti
I love swimming.
The feeling of first slipping into the water. Your body crawls and sparkles with the chilly Washington waters. Then you are underneath the surface and every feeling of discomfort washes behind you in a contrail of fine bubbles.
I love being underwater. The weightlessness. The soundless hum of pulsing blood and tidal pull. The feeling of flight. I like to hold my breath and glide.
At Madison Park, at the ass end of Madison Avenue, dropping into lake Washington, there is a pleasant little park, usually packed on sunny days. One hundred feet from shore is a floating dock of concrete upon which rests a diving board and a high dive.
Bridget and I catch the 11 from Pine st as the sun is veering toward the horizon.
I have to get in the water.