I Swim, Therefore I Am

It was bound to happen.

Tonight, I went to the nearby lake in order to get some action shots of water dogs doing what they've been bred to do best--retrieve--and ended up swimming myself instead.  

It was at that moment that I realized: whenever I head to one of the local lakes in the winter, I return with a handful of decent photographs, like this one:

Yet the majority of my images from the summer or early fall are mobile snapshots such as the ones below.

wetsuit 700 px.jpg

It is simple, really. Growing up in Moscow, I was trained to swim for a number of years, and I really loved it. (In fact, back then, coaches visited elementary schools and picked me for various other athletic disciplines--from figure skating to tennis. Even gymnastics was on the list, though I was "dumped" soon afterward, when they realized I was going to grow into somewhat of a Gulliver among the petite, four-foot-nine girls.)

Later on, like most people trapped by The City, the choice to swim comprised either the overly chlorinated, sneeze-inducing swimming pool or some remote lake in the summer, accessible only on weekends. 

Then I moved across the entire continent to "Twin Peaks" and discovered that one of the cleanest glacial lakes in North America was just a walk away! I might sound a bit like an eco hippy by saying that I'm "of the water," but worry not: I imagine myself as a giant mosasaurus when I swim, not some dolphin or worse yet, a wimpy mermaid! 

As a result, everyone around gets to be annoyed by this overly giddy post-swim mosasaurus, hear it...err...me brag incessantly about each of my workouts comprising a distance of 2.5-3.5 km  (2 miles) primarily in front crawl (see, I did it again!), and, most important, miss out on aesthetically pleasing water photography in the summer.  

But I think we can all live with that. After all, the alternative is much worse: transforming into a full-fledged "swim bum," spending all day at the lake, and developing a bad case of giant shoulders.