A Swim in the Mediterranean

Saturday morning was the chosen day for my first swim in the Mediterranean. Actually, I doubt it was my first time in this particular sea, because I’m sure that previous swimming experiences in Greece and Croatia qualify as having been in the Mediterranean. I got up early, put on my black one piece bathing suit, my black running shorts and my grey Capitol Hill Classic 10K t-shirt, put a towel in a plastic bag, and by 8 a.m. was headed down the hill to the beach. When I write that I was heading down the hill, that’s exactly what I am doing – the location where I am staying is on a significant grade, such that even I am deciding to walk up the final 50 meters to the apartment after a 30 minute run – this, from a woman that enjoys running up hills!

Suffice to say that my muscles are getting a workout these days. The 15 minute walk down to the beach was quiet and fairly quick. The Promenade des Anglais was already active with runners and joggers and bikers on their Saturday morning workout. The sun was fairly high in the sky even at 8:15 in the morning, and there was a smattering of a crowd on the beach. I walked down to one of the public, supervised sections, across the surface of small (and large) smooth grey stones, to find a spot close to the water. Those already on the beach were set up along the water line – largely older citizens, with umbrellas and chairs, greeting one another with kisses as they set up their seats and settled down for the morning. The water was not crowded at this hour, and after taking off my shorts and shirt and sandals, and setting down my towel, I headed toward the sea.

Ouch! Man, I have not done any walking around in bare feet this summer! I was extremely unsteady on my feet as I tried to navigate across the six feet to the water without embarrassing myself completely (trying not to fall down in pain and/or complete lack of balance). The water temperature was lukewarm, but not bathwater; it felt good. I was still trying to keep my balance, walking into the water, but finally succumbed and sat down on the stones and slid into the small waves.

Ah, the saltiness of the sea! After quite a bit of swimming this summer in chlorinated pools, the rough salinity of the Mediterranean was a welcome change (and I can finally float!). I did my trademark crawl towards the open water, with a lookout for the jellyfish that I heard were liable to be in evidence. But I felt nothing, so continued my strokes back and forth along the shoreline for some time. Swimming has been a muscle relaxer after my long bike rides and runs this summer; the ameliorative effect of the water on my legs has convinced me that being near water is an important element in my sporting life. (In Arlington, I kept thinking about signing up to join the nearly pool at Washington and Lee HS, so I could swim there during the winter, and not just during the summer in my condo pool – which was only an elevator ride away, but never quite got there.)

After the runs and hill climbs of the past four days (gosh, has it only been four days!), the current of the sea felt great on my legs and body generally. I should do this on a regular basis…
After about 15 minutes – I’m not good at judging time in the water, but I know I wasn’t trying to be in there for 30 – I swam back toward short and climbed carefully out of the water back on to the beach. I headed toward my sandals before walking up the beach to the public showers at the breakfront. “Take a shower after swimming in the Mediterranean!” Priscilla warned; doesn’t everyone take a shower after a pool or ocean dip today? Entre chlor et pollution, il n’ya pas une difference de la substance!

I came back and lay down on the beach in the morning sun for a while, listening to the groups of older folks talking and just enjoying being in France, by the water, and feeling energized (and a little tired) by my swim.

One item on the list crossed off!