Swimming has returned to me more as an art form rather than a medium for cardiovascular exercise.

I’ve missed the feeling holding the water in my palms, using slight wrist movements to manipulate the direction I wish to go.  I’ve missed the intuitive science of hydrodynamics, of feeling the natural flow of water around the recovery of a stroke.  I’ve almost forgotten how much a slight twist of the hip could create such a driving force through the water.

I’ve long yearned to exhale all that is left in my lungs, to find myself standing tall at the bottom of the pool, looking through my coincidently rose-colored goggles and listening to the peaceful but deliberate breaks in surface tension as others paddle through their laps.  I nearly forget about gravity before it hits me that I need some more oxygen…