Vitamin Sea & Me
I peel off my Pyjamas with last night's bed head still nesting atop, sink my toes between the stones and look straight towards a grey abyss. 7am on an August morning, it’s meant to clear blue skies and sunshine aplenty, but this is England and what will be will be. Tentatively I step into the water, finding the soft sand bank that appears under foot, only if you catch it at the right time of day. 3 more steps forward and 3 more deep breaths, wrestling with my mind that I could turn around now and be back in bed within minutes. One last breath inwards as I propel myself forward, arms hitting the water, heart beating fast to cope with the drastic change in temperature and a shower of calm falling over me, as I catch my breath and thank my lucky stars for another morning starting like this.
I’m not sure I even call myself a swimmer at all, there are these women that step out every morning in hats and gloves, tracking miles between the buoys, racking points on their watches and kilometres under their belts. I am more of a paddler, a wave rider maybe, a dipper at best. Head above the water, toes tingling and fingers swelling, telling me it’s time to get out. The sea is no exercise for me, it is a prescription, part of my solution to grey moods and foggy thoughts. How can you pinpoint the salve that soothes you? It’s simple, you can’t. I just know the (not so warm) hug of the ocean does a lot more for me than most of the medicine set across pharmacy shelves has done before.
What a privilege it is to live by the sea. One of those things I didn’t realise I needed, until I uprooted myself to a town by the beach, on quite a whim almost 3 years ago. A huge mass of water is something to be afraid of, something we know very little about. With the vastness of the ocean sitting at the bottom of my driveway it is easy to be intimidated, and rightly so. Throughout the summer months, local news is filled with near misses and close calls, boys out in dinghy or young ones taking ill advised midnight dips. Like most other medicine, it must be taken with caution. It demands your time and attention and always your respect. I’m certain sea swimming isn’t for the faint of heart, fair weather waders beware, the waves of an October morning hit differently to an everlasting mid summer afternoon.
Scientists say it’s good for you, the cold water therapy raved about by those in the know. People across the country jumping into 10 degree showers or ice filled bathtubs, or paying to visit retreats of silence and solitary swimming. It may be easy to think it’s all hoax, these folks out there searching for something to solve the unsolvable but I'm here to tell you it’s true, for me at least.
These are the things the sea can cure; heartbreak, both the romantic and platonic kind; a lost sense of yourself; a bad morning at work, a bad night at home; a plan that didn’t quite work out; a feeling of discontentment when something doesn’t go your way; an ache in your bones that painkillers won’t shake; a deep dark sadness that feels hollow inside.
The things it can make you feel; how good it is to be alive, how lucky you are to have a body that can swim, how much better it is to be outside than in.
Here I am now, with a real conundrum for later life. I am stuck here. I don’t think I can leave, I must now be grounded by a swimmable body of water at all times. The sea is the dream but I will take a lake or a river too. The need to see the sea is now ingrained in me, the knowledge it is a walk away is what helps me sleep at night. Pure and free medicine, right at the tip of my fingers, or toes. I am indebted to the sea, it is now part of me.
Hannah May
If you enjoyed this piece, you may also like Double Dip Day and Swimming Through Winter