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It was last September, during a chicken weekend in North Wales, that I realized how much swimming had become an essential activity for me.
There was a temporary break in organized entertainment and a group of participants that the university vaguely knew at the university asked me if I would join them for a dip at the nearby beach. The conditions were difficult to dream: it was raining; I did not buy a swimsuit; the only towel I could use was that of the size of a child provided by Airbnb. But I still took them back. "I'll be with you in five minutes," I said, smiling.
In the past, I would have needed more strength; spontaneous and sociable swimming was hardly my default mode of exercise. I had suffered from anorexia in sixth grade and although I healed at university in my mid-twenties, I had begun to fall back into that punitive state of mind. The so-called "healthy" meal plans were accompanied by a strict exercise regime: running. Five times a week. Solo. (Just like when I was a bachelor of calorie counting, I was thirsty for control.Having someone at my position would require compromise and flexibility – two concepts that seemed equally acceptable to my conscious being of weight than super-large lard pots.)
To clarify, it was not a constant period of anxiety. It was rather for about three years that I spent nervous months of restraint at periods of respite during which I felt sufficiently rooted for … well, relax a little. On these sections, I could walk my tracks completely or abandon them for a quieter exercise. I started going for lazy and fun-motivated swims, and in doing so I got hooked on a life buoy that would eventually pull me out of the whirlwind of self-criticism and l & # 39; Obsession for good. (Well almost.)
When I was a kid, I had enjoyed visiting the pool in my neighborhood, but since it's hard to open a newspaper these days without anyone bothering to About wild swimming, the adult has attracted me to the outdoors. When traveling to visit family in Sweden, I floated languidly around calm and cavernous lakes. And like all the good artistic millennials of London, on hot Saturdays, I headed for the Hampstead Heath ponds.
It was not until the feast of the hen, however, that I realized how profoundly swimming had changed.
Tragically, a women-only weekend like this – glamorous outfits and meticulously calculated preparation time – would normally bring out the worst of my neuroses. But instead of looking at my thighs in the mirror, I moved in the sea in graying underwear, too busy shouting cold to think of something else.
The physical benefits of wild swimming are well documented. But for me, it was not just the adrenaline rush of loading in a freezing sea, or the happy peace felt when you wiped your hair in the cool evening air . It turned out that outdoor swimming had fundamentally rebalanced my state of mind with regard to exercise. After all, unlike racing, it was not an activity that I could control and program. Unless you are extremely sturdy, it depends on the weather – and, unless you have a lido on your doorstep, it depends on the location. You do it with friends and, in the company of your company, you escape all the perfectionist routines ("If I do not make laps in blah blah, I will not have succeeded!") Out of the box water. I have begun to appreciate the relief that comes from letting the forces surpbad themselves – the weather, the seasons, other people – dictating their agenda. Although it's not a bad thing to take control of your destiny, I used to crush it once on the spot. Swimming has taught me how good it can be to let go.
It also helped me to kiss my body. After all, in the water, roundness is the power. When I was at the lighter, at school, I was cold all the time and it was out of the question to swim, especially on the outside. But now, I can do lengths and lengths without worry. I stopped dieting and, although many factors brought her, the swim made me feel more comfortable in my skin, no doubt.
Nowadays, I go to the water as much as I can. But it's not a strict routine; I approach it as a treat, like an ice cream. While I am still running, swimming has allowed me to see the benefits of doing exercise less intensively. I do a slow jog two or three times a week – and most of the time, I'm motivated by the desire to let off steam instead of losing calories.
I would be lying if I said that I completely shaken my anxieties. I think I will always have an obsessive side. Fortunately, swimming not only helps to keep this under control, but also to do so. If I'm relaxed enough to jump in the waves on a covered Saturday, there's a good chance that life will be beautiful.
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