Friday, September 2, 2011

The Double Crossing

At the end of a very banal week, I felt like my life needed a bit of poetry.

V and I were walking back from the West End Markets after I'd consumed about three separate breakfasts, when I thought aloud "I really want to swim accross the Brisbane River".
I did. I've been thinking about it for months.
"Do it. Now."
Well, we waited until returning to Boundary Street, a little closer to home, where I removed my shirt, and scrambled down to the water's edge.

It's all about doing things that scare you. Doing things that you're not comfortable with. It was my last chance to strengthen the courage muscle before Glasshouse.

Ok, find your footing underwater. Creep forward, creep forward.
And I slid in, paddling for dear life.
Nyurrrghh, splash, splash, nyurrrghh.
The lactic burn started, and I was soon wheezing like an asthmatic.

The river tastes like out of date sliced olives in a jar.

Ok, halfway accross.
Can I really do this?
Christ, I'm nearly beat, and the current is really strong!
Am I even moving?
Can I really do this?

Had to paddle hard against it for the final few strokes to the rowing pontoon, but soon I was beached atop the rough carpet. Maybe a little more peaceful than before I had taken the plunge.
Stumble up to the grass, kiss the ground.
Turn around.

Wait for the Citycat to pass, then slide in again, with V loyally keeping watch from the other side.
Piece of cake, no rush.
A guy in an apartment yelled something about sharks, which got the juices flowing, and made me push a little harder for the final 40 metres.
Washed up about 50 metres upriver from the little patch of grass at the start point, so had to carefully scramble over the slippery stones back to where I could climb up.

Daniel miraculously appeared, so we sat around chatting for a little while, before I headed home for a long shower, and a large dose of Betadine.
Maybe I'm just a little closer to September 10 now.

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