Lane Swimming
The feeling of skin sliding through water is sublime. Looking down, the water refracts the sunlight casting a moving net onto the pool’s floor. Looking ahead, I make sure the line I’m drawing with my body is smooth and straight. My legs extend behind me and flutter, erupting the surface to propel me forward. One arm lifts out of the water, my shoulder rotates, the arm plunges into the water ahead of me as I make a cup with my palm and pull myself forward. Exhaling right before I turn my face, upwards and out of the water’s surface. I inhale through lips shaped not to let any water in. The next moment I’m back under the surface, the other arm lifts into a perfect arc.
Moments before I had slid a quarter into the locker, turned the key and attached the keychain to the fabric of my swimsuit. Some things never change. I’m appreciative of public spaces that house bodies, teach skills, and resist erasure.
Yesterday’s fetish was heavy rubber mixed with vintage swimwear. Think industrial waders, thick rubber bicep-length gloves, a heavy latex surf suit. Then a 1950s-era swimsuit and beemo swimming cap with chin strap. Googles to see underwater with. It felt both protective and whimsical, a strange pairing that made absolute sense once we mirrored our outfits together. Not the second skin of fashion latex but a mould of a body with something bright shining through. It made me want to swim, and the scene itself was fluid. Once over, I mused that the whole effort had felt like conducting a musical ensemble. But I often feel that way, when I’m both utterly fascinated by my sub’s desires and aesthetics as I am comfortable in my own body. I admit that stomping through the session in worn down Hunter boots helped.
Lane swimming is meditative in that thought is eclipsed by breath control. It’s easier for me to enter a flow state than when I’m practising yoga. I always get winded in the first 200 yards but then I settle in, feel my body’s supple muscles working, acclimatize to the new conditions for breathing, and feel awe at the sun’s reflections on the bottom of the pool. As I lift myself out of the water to sit on the edge and catch my breath, I imagine a strange and beautiful creature swimming in the dark in a lake, with ladies swim cap and vintage swimsuit on. It gives me hope.