WHAT?
The decrepit old grouch hasn't been in salt water for two and a half months?
True. I'm embarrassed to see the last dated entry here. I have an excuse, but, as they told us frequently at sea back in my Navy years: Excuses are like assholes...everybody's got one.
Age 68? Dang! Body parts don't function properly. Lungs, airways, intestinal fortitude.
Health and wimpiness have limited me to a bit of swimming & kicking with a kickboard in the backyard pool. Where did my grit go?
The sun was close to setting yesterday as I finished a strong cup of joe, sitting on my lazy ass with my 18 x 12 inch ice pack snug on my back, making changes to pages of a novel that I will never complete (about poor old people).
I have one of those foot-wide elastic lumbar wraps to hold the ice pack in place. Over that I tighten my super-size, hard back brace, which helps the 2 squished discs stay near where they're supposed to be. (When I'm really tortured, the four TENS unit patches go on first & I turn up the juice.)
By the way, TENS units don't do jack shit; they distract you a little with the buzzing on the skin, but for "pain management" I classify them along with meditation, cognitive therapy, anti-inflammatories, zoom groups on-line with other VA pain patients, and other crapola considered as pain therapy.
I drove the 15 minutes and got to my disabled parking spot right on the sand! It must have been the caffeine working! My mind is weak. I'm aware of it.
The last of the sun was disappearing as I donned wetsuit & cap. Dammit, I LOVE the water! Ambling into the very low tide, 1-3 foot friendly waves and falling forward into 3 feet of supporting water is like pressing the schrader valve to let the pressurized air out of a car tire. Whoosh, gravity's pressure on discs and nerves is removed instantly. There's a loosening of scrunched body parts as the weight of salt water pushes one upward.
And people...hardly any in the water in the twilight. But lots of wise folks sharing tables full of food and conversation. I lie on my back, my fins lending grace to my movement out to the solitary water past the soft waves. My back is not hurting, just my neck--it doesn't rotate much after 2 neck fusions. I look up, kick easily, leaving my neck alone, and I am a happy person in a natural world that seemingly is mine alone.
Those folks who knock California have no idea...and that's a good thing.
"The first time you quit is the last time you try."