I was reading Margrit Talpalaru's meditation on running and writing and it all rang true for me, except I don't run anymore. I used to, and I miss it, especially in the spring. But I spent too many years dancing (damn you, beautiful, wonderful Martha Graham!) for my hip and back and knees to weather the pavement.
Swimming though. Swimming is my running. Except I haven't been swimming in weeks. My head is too full, and my body feels strange -- both pent-up, and lethargic. Nothing an hour in the fast lane couldn't fix, but my local is still closed for repairs and I've been too lazy eating brunch and not doing yoga and finding crocuses to find a new length swim.
Sometimes it's good to take a break, that's what I've been telling myself. The principle definitely applies to writing and work and most things, though I'm not sure it's totally applies to swimming for me. I haven't missed swimming like this since the six weeks after my son's birth, but they were so filled with so much newness and so little sleep that it was hard to miss the pool like I do now.
At least I've been writing about swimming. A lot. And thinking about swimming, a lot.
And I quit my job (yay!) and got new jobs (yay!) and one is near a pool I've never swam at before, so there's that on the horizon. And if the renovations go according to plan, my local swimming hole will be back up and running soon. Maybe even next weekend. You know my fingers are crossed.