To wake, perchance to swim

I'm not saying that it was intrinsically joyful to wait on the pool deck for 30 minutes at 8 AM on a Sunday morning to get a lane to swim in, and I'm not saying it was the most excellent to swim in a crowded lane once I did get in the pool, but I do think I felt selfish joy in making the decision to GO to the pool early on a Sunday morning. Up and out before the guys were up, and I used the time on the deck to stretch, so by the time I got in the pool I was actually in a good place to swim, and I swam a steady 20 minutes, which was all the time I had left once I finally got in, but it was also not so bad to have an externally imposed limit, because maybe I would have otherwise overdone it after so long out of the water. And then there's the feeling that lasts all day long on a swim day—loose in the joints, a little hungrier, a little extra space in the brain. Summer is officially here, and I have started to swim. Now to find the good outside places. Lakes, especially. And rivers. Can't wait.

Speaking of lakes, there's this one I can't swim in, in Prospect Park, later that night, with the supermoon shining down upon it.