bike: 8.6 miles
lake nokomis and back
71 degrees
Hooray for biking to a lake that is open again! Had a few (almost) moments of panic — maybe not panic, but feeling unsettled. Everything blurred or smudged. I could see enough but not as much as I wanted to. The rest of the time, the ride was more than fine.
Nearing the double bridge, I could hear a bike approaching from behind. I slowed down to let him pass and he called out, in a chill and kind voice, you’re good — it’s single file here. After making it through the bridge, as he passed me, he called, those e-bikes are scary! I agreed, but wasn’t sure why he mentioned it. Only now, writing this, did I remember that some e-bike passed me going very fast and without warning me. I suppose that was what he was referring to.
swim: 1.75 loops (6 mini loops)
45 minutes
lake nokomis main beach
72 degrees
The lake and the beach were empty. Noticed some signs near the shore — oh no, is the beach still closed? Nope. Those signs were for more information about blue-green algae and weren’t announcing that the beach was closed.
The water was great. Not too cold, clearer than cedar lake. Saw some of my sparkle friends and a lot of ducks. At least 2 different ducks crossed my path as I swam. quack quack
Forgot to count loops; counted number of strokes for one loop (250) and each of the four white cylindrical buoys as I swam past them, and my five strokes between breaths.
Encountered a lot of pale milfoil, a few paddle boarders, a canoe. No other swimmers.
Right before starting my swim, I heard a dog barking on the other side. Something about the deep sound, repeated half a dozen times, that seemed solemn or ominous.
It was wonderful to be swimming in lake nokomis all alone. So quiet! So relaxed. A definite deepening and quieting of the spirit.
For part of a loop, I recalled the woman I met who had been bit by a fish and was unsettled. Will any fish come and bite me today? Then I remembered that it annoyed her, but it didn’t seem to hurt or haunt her. Barely a nibble.
Later, I recall thinking about how my world is always underwater: distorted and approximate forms, softened features, a sense of disconnection but also a new logic of connection. Right after that thought, I noticed how underwater was green, above blue — blue sky, blue surface, green everything else
hour entry: I made a chart today a beautiful/ Endi Bogue Hartigan
I made a chart today a beautiful weekly chart for links and breakages and shoulder pulls and astronaut walks. Some items are measured in repetitions, some in minutes and I endeavor to note on which days I have devoted my body’s minutes and repeated movements through time space onto this chart. At the end I hope for late endorphin states, and an even gait, and for uncertain ailments to dissipate by my discipline.
chart / shoulders / repetitions / measured minutes / devotion to minutes to repetitions to even gaits to uncertain ailments
What does my watch watch?
minutes / loops / beats / strokes / effort / uneven gaits / balance / breath / pace / distance / errors / miscalculations / days / dates / hours / location / light / how loud that military plane flying overhead was / ambient light / laziness / discipline / dedication / obsessions / hesitations / regrets
swim: 3.25 loops
75 minutes
cedar lake open swim
81 degrees
Another beautiful night for a swim! And the buoys were back where they belong: close to point and hidden beach. I didn’t feel too sore even though I swam earlier today. My shoulders were fine the whole swim, but my right tricep started to ache on the second to last loop.
Everything was great in the water except the vines. So many vines — strands, clumps, nets of vines. I kept swimming through them and as they hit me with their sharp scratchiness, I flinched. I’m glad I didn’t pull something in my neck with all the flinching I was doing! And the vines didn’t want to leave. They wrapped around my feet, my wrists, shoulders, head. One persistent clump wrapped around my safety buoy and kept tapping me on the thigh until I finally realized what it was and ripped it off and threw it.
The sky was blue with a few fluffy clouds and an occasional soaring bird. Oh, and a dragonfly! I haven’t seen many of those this summer.
Today I noticed the spray from my arm as I lifted it out of the water. Dripping in an arc as my hand traveled from my hip to past my head and back into the water.
One more day of open swim club. How can it be over already?