Drowning

I'm not drowning, not now, not literally, not metaphorically.

Two weeks ago, we went to the quarry to swim and I dove in enthusiastically, waiting for that wonderful sensation of shock, of warm water still cooler than hot summer air, of the rush of the senses, of brief calm, then "SWIM!".

At first I was relatively calm, my intention being to swim across the 50 or 100 yards to the other side to my kids.  Ten or twenty strokes into it though, I panicked, fatigue set in, I was out of oxygen.  I'm not in horrible physical shape, but freestyle exhausted me and the realization set in, "oh shit, the bottom is fifteen feet, do I turn back or swim on to the other side - no way, I'll never make it, but I can swim to the floating pier half way, I think..."

I waved to my boys, played it off ligit, and gasped for air with the sixteen year olds sunning themselves on the pier.  Tok Tok Batjargal came to mind.  A man I had just met some summers ago, briefly before he drown in the summer of drownings and wild fires, Boulder, CO.  He came to an international conference on microfinance and drown in a very indistinct apartment pool only moments after jumping in. He drown in front of his colleauges, who being from Nepal were terrified of water and could not swim. The same week Kobin Chino Roshi had drown trying to save his daughter who also drown in a pond.  Tragic, none of them could swim.

I can swim, quite well I thought, but here I was contemplating drowning as muscles locked up most unexpectedly on a casual (albeit, perhaps declaratively bravado) swim.  I recalled the 1 (or 1.5 I like to say) stretch of the South Platte where my roommate and I managed to tip our canoe... I remembered to hold on to my oar, in fact I never let go even when my lungs and muscles locked up as the ice melt waters deprived me of air.  My roommate saw I was in trouble, but he was further ahead of me, the white waters moving him down river.  Somehow I got close to the rock ledge wall bordering the river, everything slowed down and I thought to myself, "you grab on and hold this rock wall or you die".  I grabbed, I held I pulled myself up, oar in hand and scrambled up the rock wall dripping wet, slowly warming up in the Idaho summer sun.  My roommate made his way out of the river some ways down.

Another time I was in a pool as a young boy with the older boys and a neighbor kid held me under the water, under a raft for a long, long time.  I always thought he did it on purpose.  I swallowed water and had to punch him to break free.

In Florida, post hurricane again as a boy, the huge surf knocked me down and pulled me out, I remember again everything slowing down, a calming, I thought "this is it", but I felt quite peaceful.  My friend's older brother was in his late teens and he caught hold of my shirt as I floated past him in the rapidly retreating water.  He barely kept his feet and we both struggled to shore.

In Hawaii it took quite some time for me to get over claustrophobia with the snorkel before I could relax and explore off shore.  Finally, I noticed the colorful fish and how they simply went with the current, swaying back and forth without much care.  I had a break through, I relaxed and I swam above eels, tangs, angels and turtles... after quite some time, say about 40 minutes, I realized I was tired.  I tried to get the attention of my friend, but he was in pursuit of a turtle.  I turned back to shore.  But shore was quite far, farther than expected.  We were in about 40 foot water and I had no flippers.  I started swimming and then I felt the current pulse out, away from shore.  I remembered hearing this might happen, and waited and then swam as it surged back in.  I did this several times, open - swim in, close - wait again, I made slow progress until my mask took on water, I tried to adjust it, but it filled up with water, I choked down some salty water and panic raced through my muscles as adrenalin.  I decided I was swimming for it, and not stopping till I hit the beach.  I was exhausted, but I couldn't look, if shore was still far off I'd surely drown.  My wife was on shore unaware of my predicament.

I swam as hard as I could, I couldn't see, I panted, I kept going until my chest dragged upon the sand and stood on my knees.  There in front of me was David Hastlehoff, yes Baywatch, huge in Germany, David Hasselhoff.  I almost drowned in front of David Hasselhoff.  He was oblivious to my struggle.

I offer all of this, not to encourage fear of water, but as I'm just back from the gym.  I swam a quarter mile without touching the bottom, without kicking off the walls as I wanted to make sure I could still swim if I had to.  I could.  I can.  But only if the water is not freezing, only if panic doesn't set in.  I told myself, the water is deep, the sky is dark, but I could see the bottom, I knew I could stand if I had to, I worked in freestyle to raise my heart rate and settled back to breast stroke, but I could't reproduce panic, I calmly went about my work, stopping at a quarter mile as it was getting late, not because I was really tired.  A quarter of mile, late at night vs. 20 yards just weeks before, what was different.  Water temperature?  Likely colder this night in the pool.  Fatigue? Sure, but it was my mind that was different, calm, trusting of my body, not concerned with my own mortality.

I'm not overly fearful of water - actually I love it.  I have fond memories of sinking in swimming pools, into a contemplative, altered state tank only to bolt for the surface to breath and do it again.

I offer all of this on drowning, both literal and metaphorical as it presents itself to the living, the air dependent as some sort of primal reminder of just how LinkedIn we are to the elements and how close at hand is death.  In the summer of drownings and wild fires, teachers told us construction had upset the water dralas.  I likely thought of past lives in which I must have drown, rather than the front and center impression left on a lung bearer who suddenly is without air.