Often times, we must challenge ourselves to see who we really are. After not being in the ocean for a few years, I decided to do so in the Gulf of Mexico during my Spring Break Habitat trip.
Jeremy and I were capitalizing the shore of a beach after building houses that day. We tried skim boarding with a boogie board and walked on our hands close to the water so that our falls would be cushioned. This was not enough. We needed a new obstacle to peak our interests.
My neck turned from a pole on the outskirts of the swimming region to Jeremy and back to the pole again. He knew what was on my mind. With his eyes approval, I verbalized my thoughts and he accepted. We were going to the limits of the imaginary boundary set forth by men for their safety.
He starts out strong and proves himself a much better swimmer than I imagined. Neither one of us were regular swimmers, so this feat was starting to take a toll on our breathing. As we approach the pole we begin to slow our pace because we are tired. He announces that we should head back. To conserve energy, I float on my back and pedal towards shore. Jeremy decides to swim in a little bit ahead of me.
Staring up into the expansive, blue-raspberry jello with splotchy whip topping sky, my efforts seemed to be in vain. This brought my focus back on my body. I ask myself, “Am I thrusting forward?” The answer was yes, but another force was detected pulling me in the opposite direction. Suddenly, the concept of current flooded my brain. Soon after, a slight panic ensued. I was not comfortable with the ocean tugging at me.
“Maybe the pole will point out my progress,” I think. Looking at the pole, I realize that it is entirely to close for the length of time I have been travelling back to shore. My patience fades and I pedal with all the will that I have. Then I start becoming satisfied with the small distance gains that I see between the pole and me. These gains gave me the hope to finish my journey back to the stable land.
“You can touch now,” Jeremy’s voice cries from the beach.
“Not quite, yet,” I gargled in return as my feet searched for sand. Five more feet of swimming and relief set in as seashells swirled around my toes.
On the shore, I collapsed and kissed the water packed sand. My strive for a demanding trial was finally satisfied.
