Insight from a swim?

I've been in Newcastle for the last 3 nights, for a work meeting. This afternoon, our meeting ended at 3pm and since I'd been sitting in a room staring at the waves crashing on Newcastle Beach all day, I had to get in. Additionally, I hadn't gotten in the water on Monday, which was a beautiful day, and Tuesday was super stormy and the beach was closed. So, I already had the hankering to get in the water. Now that I live in Canberra, where there is no ocean, I cannot be that close to the ocean and not get in. Once I figured out that "going for a swim" in the ocean was really just getting in the water and hanging out for a little while, not really swimming as in laps and full-on activity, I've really gotten used to just jumping in the ocean for a dip. It's just so great. (I really like that part of being over here). But, since I live in Canberra, which is not on the coast, I have to take advantage of the ocean when I'm there.

After the meeting today my co-worker Gerard and I changed into our suits (okay, our cossies, or togs, or whatever you may call them), and headed down to the water. I brought along an extra T-shirt as my towel since we'd checked out of the hotel already. Our flight was in an hour and a half - as I've learned, plenty of time in Oz to get in a quick swim before heading home.

There were flags up on the beach, indicating the area where it was safe to swim. This also means that there are lifeguards on the beach, watching and ready to help. Nw, others may feel comforted by the fact that there is someone watching them from afar. But, for me, especially when there's no-one else in the water - this makes me a little bit self-conscious. I'm just afraid the lifeguards are going to yell something through their loudspeaker thats directed at me and I won't know what they are saying and it'll be one huge 'lost in translation' moment where I'm in my bikini being stared at by everyone. (Any dream interpretations on that one??).

Anyway, it turns out that the reason there was no-one in the water was because, due to the storm yesterday, and the winds blowing from the northwest, the beach was full of bluebottles - stinging jellyfish. There were a ton of them washed up on the shore, little clear pods tinged with blue. On a couple of them, Gerard was able to point out the tentacles, aka the business end that stings like a mo-fo if you brush it. No wonder no-one was in the water. Gerard said we'd be okay, so we waded in a little ways - up to our knees. There were no blue bottles in the water, but it was super choppy, so I decided that we needed to go to the Ocean Baths instead. I really neeeded to GET in the water, but wasn't comfortable with the level of the surf and the potential of stinging jellyfish.

So, we walked over to the Ocean Baths. Most beaches in Oz have Ocean Baths - sheltered pools with sea water, right next to the ocean. The Newastle Ocean Baths are 2 pools - one large one for doing whatever, and one smaller one for doing laps. Gerard and I got in the larger pool and just swam around. After about 30 minutes, we decided to do some laps - make a little bit of a workout. So, we did a few big laps (we were in the big pool) of breast stroke, then decided to do some 'real swimming' - some freestyle (oh sorry, some Australian Crawl). [not my picture below - it's from the world wide web]



Now, I've mentioned on here my desire to start swimming, and that I, as yet, haven't found the gumption to actually do it. The next 5 minutes in the pool with Gerard illustrated some of my hesitations and self-made obstacles. We were in the middle of the large pool, towards the left side. We started off, and 3 strokes in, I couldnt see a thing, or breathe, because my hair was all in my face. I'd forgotten to put it back up in a pony-tail. Okay - first faux-paus. I stopped, Gerard stopped, and I put my hair up. Gerard loved this, as he's got a clean-shaven head. He just said I was lucky.

So, we set off again. The wall is not that far away - I take a look at it, put my head in the water, and away I go. I'm swimming, and it's good. After a while, I start thinking that I should be at the wall by now - my lungs are burning, it's time to stop. I keep trying to see where I am in comparison to the wall with each breath, but I don't want to stop to actually look. That would have been faux-paus number 2.

Now, it's maybe germane to note that there are a total of 5 other people in this large pool. None of whom are paying attention to me and my potential faux-paus behavior. And, I'm in Australia, where people don't really care anyway, so, really, I'm dealing with my own faux-paus fears. (I really like typing the word faux-paus. It's quite fun.)

So, I finally can't swim anymore and stop. I look up and realize that I am in the middle of the ool, in the complete opposite direction from the wall I was headed too - where Gerard is waiting for me, watching. (See, someone was watching). I realize that I've been swimming at a diagonal instead of a straight line, and I almost choke because I'm laughing so hard at myself. Literally - I snorted a whole bunch of ocean water... not pretty. Anyway, I head over to Gerard, doing the breast stroke, so I can see where I'm going this time, and just am cracking up by the time I get over to the wall, picturing myself, serious and dedicated to swimming - in the wrong direction.

Apparently, when we started swimming after I put my hair up, I completely cut Gerard off in my haste to go the wrong direction. He said he felt me swim in front of hime, but figured I was just adding some distance because, as he puts it, I'm "so super-fit".

Oy. I'm still laughing out loud at this image of myself, swimming into the middle of the pool, with dogged determination to look like I know what I'm doing.

The moral of this story - NO ONE is watching, NO ONE cares what I'm doing, and, even if I do stuff up, it's in my head, and all I have to do is stop, reasses, and get going in the right direction again. I'm so scared to look like I don't know what I'm doing, that it's been stopping me from taking the first step. But, hey, maybe I DON'T know what I'm doing. And that is okay. No-one knows how to do everything perfectly, and holding myself up to that standard is boring and too limiting.

A good lesson to have learned, and I'm still laughing at myself.