If being a coastal Mainiac for the past fourteen years has taught me anything, it’s to swim at my own risk.
I am a terrible swimmer. Just awful. I spent my childhood summers flailing around in the ocean, half-drowning, half-laughing because I was half-drowning, but overall fully enjoying myself as waves crashed over me time and time again. I swallowed more seawater than a person ever should in their lifetime and gave a number of lifeguards quite the scare, but it never bothered me.
As I got older and was at least able to keep myself afloat, I came to live for the moments just after everyone had left the beach for the evening. Right around five o’clock, the teeming crowds of tourists fade to nothing and the lifeguards pack up and go home for the night. Their empty chairs signify that no one is around to look out for night swimmers like me. It never stopped me, for I always wanted to be there as the ocean exhaled. With the deafening roar of vacationers gone, one can hear the waves break one after another in a calming rhythm. As the sea breathed out, so did I.
People always told me I was crazy to sprint full-speed into the icy waves without the comfort of having anyone to watch over my safety. But doing so taught me far more than how to deal with the pin-pricking sensations that come with the freezing temperature of the water. It made me fearless and taught me that at some point in life, you have take things head on and with complete independence. I wasn't a good swimmer by any means, but years of diving into the water without a second thought reminded me of the things I would have missed out on had I not just gone for it. There isn’t always going to be a lifeguard watching over your every move, but if you want to enjoy the calming powers of the waves, you must first be willing to take a leap on your own.
