My Turn: Swimming 'lessons' during the pandemic

Forrest Gump famously philosophized that life is like a box of chocolates. For me, life is like swimming in open water. This summer, I’ve had time to contemplate the life lessons swimming offers.

A COVID-19 refugee from New York City, I’ve been living with family in Bohemia since March 11. (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) Three-mile speed walks maintained my sanity during spring, but by early summer, I began looking for a new diversion. While editing the second draft of my book manuscript on Sayville Beach, I noticed two swimmers. “How nice it’d be to swim long distances with other people,” I thought.

That night, I searched online for a swim club and found Open Water Swim LI, founded by fellow Connetquot grad Bryan Krut, which offers lifeguard-supervised lap swimming in open water on Saturday mornings. After wrestling with a ton of insecurities — “Will I be the oldest one there?” “Will I be the fattest?” “Will I be the slowest swimmer there?” — I took the plunge on June 27.

Swimming Lesson 1. Swallow your fears and show up. As soon as I stepped into the cool Connetquot River, my fears floated away. Immersing myself in the brackish water, I enjoyed the quiet solitude, the only sound bubbling from my own exhalation. Turning my head to inhale, I reveled in the beauty of the sun rising over this band of marine brothers and sisters. At 8 o’clock, I climbed out of the water, proud for having shown up.

Swimming Lesson 2. Be nice and pay it forward. Part of the reason I felt so comfortable that first day at the river was the welcome I received from other swimmers. My new swim cap tore as soon as I tried to put it on my head and, when I approached two women asking if one had a spare, one gave me a bright green swim cap to keep. Meghan chatted with me while we both took a break at the buoy, and Patty gave me tips on swim shoes and keeping a gallon jug of water in the car (clean feet!).

The next week when the group migrated to Heckscher State Park to swim in the Great South Bay, I felt like an old-timer. When newcomer Victoria struggled through her laps, I stopped to encourage her. Afterward, lifeguard Julia commented, “That was really nice what you did for Victoria.” Turns out, the next week, Julia helped me.

Swimming Lesson 3. Trust your gut. Soon, I’d come to see the open-water swims as the highlight of my weekend. Getting up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday felt effortless when I remembered how great it would feel to get in the water and swim for an hour. Tropical Storm Fay, however, had different plans for me on July 11. Just making it out to the buoy where we store our swim shoes was a chore. The chop made each stroke feel like a roller-coaster ride and sighting — looking up to ensure you’re swimming in the right direction — almost impossible. A small knot of panic lodged itself in my gut.

Unlike silly insecurities about my age or speed that almost prevented me from showing up in June, I had to heed this fear. Fifteen years earlier, I had disregarded a little voice while body surfing. I wound up dislocating my shoulder and breaking my arm.

I crawled my way toward Julia and asked, “If I leave now, can I come back next week — "

“ — and not pay the $15 next time?” she finished my query. “Between you and me, sure,” she said. “No problem.” Julia might’ve made the same call had Victoria not shown up to swim. But I like to think I was reaping the karmic seeds I’d sown the week before.

I trudged back to the buoy to retrieve my shoes and left Heckscher a mere 10 minutes after I’d arrived — disappointed, but not defeated.

Sure enough, July 18 was magic. When we entered the water at 7, dense fog hugged the bay. Julia wondered whether we could swim safely, but one by one, each swimmer’s stroke seemed to pierce the gray haze. By 7:30, the sun’s rays gleamed through faint clouds and glistened like gold on the bay’s surface.

Swimming Lesson 4? Like life, we proceed through uncertainty, trusting ourselves, experience and others. And sometimes, when we’re lucky enough, beauty happens.

Dominique Padurano,

Riverdale / Bohemia