From the warm turquoise waters of Port Stephens to the cold grey waters of Inverloch, every swim
is a fresh adventure for Etsuko Yasunaga.
is a fresh adventure for Etsuko Yasunaga.
By Etsuko Yasunaga
STREAK: something that is done over a period of time without a break. That is the definition of the word by the Cambridge dictionary. The most common example that comes to my mind is a running streak. The official definition of it, as adopted by the Streak Runners International Inc., is to run at least one mile within each calendar day. As soon as you miss a day, the streak is broken and you have to start from day one again if you wish to continue. Running streaks are generally self-imposed and progress is tracked by the individual. The benefits are numerous, including increased motivation and sense of purpose, and forming a consistent routine and a good habit. The downside is that a running streak may force you to run when your body should not be running. Although a single mile is manageable for most runners, it may increase the likelihood of injury or burnout.
STREAK: something that is done over a period of time without a break. That is the definition of the word by the Cambridge dictionary. The most common example that comes to my mind is a running streak. The official definition of it, as adopted by the Streak Runners International Inc., is to run at least one mile within each calendar day. As soon as you miss a day, the streak is broken and you have to start from day one again if you wish to continue. Running streaks are generally self-imposed and progress is tracked by the individual. The benefits are numerous, including increased motivation and sense of purpose, and forming a consistent routine and a good habit. The downside is that a running streak may force you to run when your body should not be running. Although a single mile is manageable for most runners, it may increase the likelihood of injury or burnout.
During the cold winter months we went away to warmer weather as usual. We particularly enjoyed our time in Port Stephens in NSW. Right in front of the holiday park where we stayed, there was a postcard perfect beach with blinding white sand and sparkling turquoise water. The water temperature was around 18 degrees, so I didn’t even need to wear my shorty wetsuit. Naturally I spent lots of time swimming in the crystal clear water, and it became my new regime. I can’t deny that my body had an initial reaction feeling the cold when I first got in. As soon as I started moving, though, somehow I felt the shield forming around my body. I even felt a touch warm in the water. I enjoyed the sense of weightlessness in the clear water. It was so refreshing. I swam almost every day, making the most of the warmth and the sunshine.
Coming back to Inverloch was basically returning to cold winter. There were a few glorious spring days but the countless returns of winter were relentless. I succumbed to my full wetsuit and a hood, and continued to swim whenever I could. When I came out of the water I often shivered in the icy south westerly wind. My heart was heavy, too. I lost my dear friend and everything was an effort. Some days the weather was so bad I had no choice but to use the indoor pool where I work. I haven’t learned how to breathe properly yet so I still use my snorkelling mask when I swim. I sometimes use a set of fins to help me swim easier. For weeks and weeks the sound of my dying friend’s laboured breaths stayed in my conscious mind. Whenever I swam, I focused on my regular rhythmical breath underwater. Inhale, exhale, I’m breathing, I’m moving and I’m alive. I counted my breath until I reached the end of the pool then turned back to repeat the process again for another 25 metres. Fifty soon became 100, which turned to 200 and beyond. I kept counting until the sound of the irregular breathing of my dying friend dissipated. Losing myself in the simple movements of swimming was meditative. Some days I swam over 1000 metres immersed in my own breath. It was freeing.
On the first of October I decided to swim every day for 30 days. It was a natural progression as I was swimming regularly and the accumulated distance of my swimming was over 10km in September. My plan was to jog to the surf club, have a swim and walk home. I set a minimum distance of 100 metres per day. I made sure it was simple enough so that I could continue my swim streak every day without much fuss. By the time I jogged down to the beach, my body was warm and there was no hesitation jumping into the water.
When the weather turned horrendous, however, swimming was very challenging. Intimidating big waves engulfed me and I tumbled a lot. I felt as if I were in a washing machine. It took forever to swim just 100 metres and I was exhausted. In the wildness of it all, however, I felt invigorated. I felt a sense of vitality and energy both powerful and inspiring. Right in the midst of untamed chaos and disorder, I felt renewed strength inside me. The whole experience was utterly rejuvenating and freeing. I once swam as the storm passed through above me, and witnessed the rain drops hitting the water surface and causing small splashes. I was already wet so it really didn’t matter getting wet further. As walkers on the beach hurried to seek shelter, I stayed in the water and watched rain drops dancing.
On a recent weekend away, the scout camp accommodation where we stayed had a pool with three different sections. One was 1.2m deep, the second circle was 2.5m deep and the third circle was 4.5m deep for diving training. I swam comfortably in the shallow one, hesitated a little but managed to swim in the second one as well. When I looked down in the deepest one, it freaked me out. I said to myself “I will try swimming over the deepest one by the end of the weekend. For today I will just look at it.”
Rob said “Why don’t you try now? It’s all the same,” so I did. I tentatively slid from the edge of the deepest circle and my feet didn’t even touch the middle platform. I usually panic being out of my depth, but this time I just floated and started swimming in a circle. The deepest section is in the middle. Rob said again “Why don’t you cross over the deepest section? It’s all the same.” My heart churned a bit but I tamed the little butterfly and swam right across the middle, directly above the deepest section. Oh I simply can’t describe a feeling of freedom and liberation I felt after breaking free from a limiting fear of water! I was literally flying. It felt so good I went backwards and forwards to reaffirm my courage and confidence in the water.
As of today it’s day 46 of my swimming streak. Hopefully I can strip my shorty off and swim only in my bathers soon. Surely winter won’t come back fiercely so that we can all enjoy glorious summer days to the fullest. I will continue my daily swim as long as I enjoy doing so. Not for the sake of the streak but for the pure enjoyment of exploring new unfamiliar territory through swimming.
Coming back to Inverloch was basically returning to cold winter. There were a few glorious spring days but the countless returns of winter were relentless. I succumbed to my full wetsuit and a hood, and continued to swim whenever I could. When I came out of the water I often shivered in the icy south westerly wind. My heart was heavy, too. I lost my dear friend and everything was an effort. Some days the weather was so bad I had no choice but to use the indoor pool where I work. I haven’t learned how to breathe properly yet so I still use my snorkelling mask when I swim. I sometimes use a set of fins to help me swim easier. For weeks and weeks the sound of my dying friend’s laboured breaths stayed in my conscious mind. Whenever I swam, I focused on my regular rhythmical breath underwater. Inhale, exhale, I’m breathing, I’m moving and I’m alive. I counted my breath until I reached the end of the pool then turned back to repeat the process again for another 25 metres. Fifty soon became 100, which turned to 200 and beyond. I kept counting until the sound of the irregular breathing of my dying friend dissipated. Losing myself in the simple movements of swimming was meditative. Some days I swam over 1000 metres immersed in my own breath. It was freeing.
On the first of October I decided to swim every day for 30 days. It was a natural progression as I was swimming regularly and the accumulated distance of my swimming was over 10km in September. My plan was to jog to the surf club, have a swim and walk home. I set a minimum distance of 100 metres per day. I made sure it was simple enough so that I could continue my swim streak every day without much fuss. By the time I jogged down to the beach, my body was warm and there was no hesitation jumping into the water.
When the weather turned horrendous, however, swimming was very challenging. Intimidating big waves engulfed me and I tumbled a lot. I felt as if I were in a washing machine. It took forever to swim just 100 metres and I was exhausted. In the wildness of it all, however, I felt invigorated. I felt a sense of vitality and energy both powerful and inspiring. Right in the midst of untamed chaos and disorder, I felt renewed strength inside me. The whole experience was utterly rejuvenating and freeing. I once swam as the storm passed through above me, and witnessed the rain drops hitting the water surface and causing small splashes. I was already wet so it really didn’t matter getting wet further. As walkers on the beach hurried to seek shelter, I stayed in the water and watched rain drops dancing.
On a recent weekend away, the scout camp accommodation where we stayed had a pool with three different sections. One was 1.2m deep, the second circle was 2.5m deep and the third circle was 4.5m deep for diving training. I swam comfortably in the shallow one, hesitated a little but managed to swim in the second one as well. When I looked down in the deepest one, it freaked me out. I said to myself “I will try swimming over the deepest one by the end of the weekend. For today I will just look at it.”
Rob said “Why don’t you try now? It’s all the same,” so I did. I tentatively slid from the edge of the deepest circle and my feet didn’t even touch the middle platform. I usually panic being out of my depth, but this time I just floated and started swimming in a circle. The deepest section is in the middle. Rob said again “Why don’t you cross over the deepest section? It’s all the same.” My heart churned a bit but I tamed the little butterfly and swam right across the middle, directly above the deepest section. Oh I simply can’t describe a feeling of freedom and liberation I felt after breaking free from a limiting fear of water! I was literally flying. It felt so good I went backwards and forwards to reaffirm my courage and confidence in the water.
As of today it’s day 46 of my swimming streak. Hopefully I can strip my shorty off and swim only in my bathers soon. Surely winter won’t come back fiercely so that we can all enjoy glorious summer days to the fullest. I will continue my daily swim as long as I enjoy doing so. Not for the sake of the streak but for the pure enjoyment of exploring new unfamiliar territory through swimming.