If you are a fan of Jonathan Swift you know how to finish the phrase that makes the above title complete. However, this is not that kind of occurrence (though truth be told it is a very true statement). I find that I am at my most thoughtful and most contemplative when I am isolated and either running or swimming. Many of my best blog posts or writings of any kind were formulated while running. For many years I contributed to a newsletter edited by someone who become a friend, Burton Zaretsky, each time I was tasked with a submission I would “write” it in my head on a long run and then, upon arriving home, would type it out and send it. Sadly Burt passed a few years back before we were able to get together for the steak dinner we were anticipating all throughout the Covid kerfuffle, and equally sadly I can no longer go for the runs I used to enjoy so much due to arthritis in the foot that, while custom orthotics mitigate for walking they just don’t do the job to make anything longer than a mile doable.

However, swimming is not something that is out of reach and it is something that I like as much, if not more, than running. Our community pool opened for the season on April 1 and for the first couple of weeks it was, to be kind, “bracing”…the air temperature was actually warmer than the water. It didn’t stop me but I did limit the number of laps I would do. Now the temperature of both the air and the pool is perfect for swimming, so much so that I hit my first mile swim yesterday and upped the “ante” today

Now, I’m not going to get into the Olympic Trials, nor will I ever beat Sue’s times (she, still the competitive swimmer does her mile in a little more than half of the time I take and SHE complains about her being “slow”). That’s not the point. What this provides is time to reflect and time to think ahead. All of it done while gliding along and listening to music. These last two days I thought long an hard about how incredibly lucky I have been over these almost 72 years (see swimming more laps than my age, not shabby) and about the events and people who shaped and guided my way. I thought about my dad, Uncle Dom, and yes, Burt. I thought about my kids and my granddaughters, I thought about the connections made during 47+ years of teaching and decades of workshops having been in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. As much as when on land I fret about mortality, while I am gliding through the water, I am not focused on that at all. Instead, I am focused on how incredible it feels to just be doing what I’m doing.

I think about the kindness and civility that seems to have taken a full blown sabbatical (I keep hoping that’s all it is just a sabbatical) and how distressing it is that the “loudest voice” seems to be winning the day without any real substance. Yet, while in the water, it is like being in a magical place where all is right, where joy abounds and the simple act of doing lap after lap provides peace, solace and time to think. There is no phone while in the water, no noise other than the music playing through the bones in my cheeks courtesy of some excellent tech advances. No stop signs, not disturbances. [I do my laps early in the day so as to not bother anyone simply trying to float around, and I don’t have to look around]. Someone I very much admire, Fred Migliore, who learned his craft at the heels of the WNEW-FM DJ’s considers going to the ocean his version of going to church. I agree with him and feel the exact same way, however open water swimming down here is down right dangerous, so while I still consider going to an ocean beach like going to a grand cathedral, I am “settling” for the moment on going to the little chapel that for me is a 25 yard pool. It is a very spiritual experience and will remain so for as long as I can keep doing it…hopefully another 70 years of so… [see, you can dream and fantasize while swimming as well]