Love story
To all the swimmers of the world (professional or not)
To sensitivity
To the sea
WATER. Water. Water. Water grazes my skin in the middle of the sea, while I bathe with my children during these vacations. Water is that deep bond that fills my being, that dominates my senses, that fills me with pain and causes me immense happiness.
Water. Water seduces me while I sleep for many years, every night, every dawn. I dream that I swim any style and that I win the competition, while everyone applauds me again and I get on the podium. I dream that I am like a fish, a seal, a dolphin, like one of them; Fullness conquers me and makes rest more pleasant.
After a lifetime of fighting, I made it. I came third in the competition I had dreamed of my whole life, open water, and I think I have arrived. To think that everything was against me, that the winds were blowing against me, because I was sure I was never going to be a swimmer, because of those things in life. It is something I always dreamed of, since I was born. When I was a few months old, they took me to the beach and according to my parents' story, I liked the sea. But when I realized that I loved it deeply was when I was three years old, and don't ask me why. We used to spend our vacations in Villa Gesell and I remember running along the shore, happy. I was the nightmare of my parents, who panicked that something would happen to me: but what did I care, I was the happiest girl in the world, and of all those who were at the spa.
I had already realized that my favorite sport was swimming. Every time I put on my leotard and got into a pool (either a pelopincho or an Olympic pool) I shivered, as much as I do today. I can forget many things, my first toy, the chorus of a song, certain streets, but I can't forget all the times I went into the water to swim. I can't explain it, just feel it. My early childhood was pure sea, pool, pleasure, enthusiasm. Unforgettably the hot sun was refreshed by the dips I took every day, and the moon accompanied me with the blue sky and the stars when I swam at night. Even every icon, every person and circumstance related to water had my support; I was fascinated to see the swimmers competing and dreamed that, someday, I would be like them.
But, as I grew up, nothing was as I dreamed it would be. My father passed away and we were left alone, my mother, my younger sister and me. So for a long time we didn't take vacations and that's when my sadness began. Goodbye to the sea, goodbye to the sun, goodbye to the sand, goodbye to happiness. I had to stay at home while others were enjoying the luxury of the summer honey on the coast. In secret, I cried a lot, because a part of me had gone with my dad, whom I also missed. But life goes on and so did I: things got more and more complicated, to the point that, showing my shyness and fear of what people would say, I was so hopeless that years went by and I never dared to sign up for a swimming club. How could that be? If it was really my passion, why was this happening to me? I wasn't perfect, and besides, I didn't have the ideal figure of an athlete, much less the much desired back that identifies a swimmer, because I am plump. All this, even if it didn't seem like it, filled me with pain; now, when they talked to me about water, swimming and all its derivatives, I felt a stone in my chest, I wanted to escape. Was it cowardice? No, I know it wasn't like that, in fact I told myself "Maria, you have to be strong, you can't get down for something like that, come on". And in the evenings, when I closed my eyes, I felt a beautiful sunset on the beach, by the sea, and the tears came like raindrops.
Time went by, I grew up. I began to study Oceanography and my time became shorter and shorter; my fascination for the Ocean became evident as I wanted to dedicate myself forever to a profession. Meanwhile, I was becoming a woman: my breasts were rounding out, my hips were rounding out and my ideas were maturing. The years had made me stronger but at the same time weaker, because the water made me more sensual. I had not realized that I had a sexy side to me, which became evident when I fell in love for the first time. Martin was waiting for me, along with his hugs, his caresses and his tender gaze. Thus, I discovered another form of love, similar but different to what happened to me with the sea. In intimacy, it was as if the rubbing of our bodies were the strokes and the ram turns I do in the water. I was no longer crying for the lost summer afternoons and my spirit was on a downward slope. I was calmer, more relaxed. This didn't mean that I didn't ache for the lost, it was very important to me.
But, luckily, there was a day when I could return to the sea, to my sea. We had to do a thesis with the faculty on marine species and so we traveled to Mar del Plata to carry out the idea. We were walking along the sand, it was a cloudy day. I felt strange at first, because it had been a long time since I had visited the beach; but, a few minutes later, the joy of the reunion opened up like the petals of a flower after winter. I walked around every corner while we took pictures and notes, and it was as if I surrendered. Those two hours were vital: I had to hold back the urge to brace myself, it was cold on top of that; but luckily we had a great time and, in a way, I was reliving those childhood years. Little by little, some things came to me, gradually; like everyone else, I was in the balance between honey and gall.
In the meantime, other worries were on my mind. Mom had some health complications, and I had to help my sister not to get depressed about it. I was doing well in my career, but what my family was going through was stronger than myself. That's why I spent a few months taking care of them and neglected my studies: my professors, surprised, could not understand how someone so dedicated and responsible had let herself be. But they had to know, I cared about my family too. When everything was solved, I returned to the arena: it was not easy, but I put my heart into it and I did better. As things went on, as I worked hard, the picture became clearer. Although, at times, everything was hard for me, but I had Martín's support, who encouraged me to go on.
As the years went by, I found the girl I was. I graduated as an oceanographer with good grades, and a little later I got married: of course, on our honeymoon we went to the beach, as it was appropriate, ha ha ha. I started working in a Marine Center, and a few months later I got pregnant. Many times I walked along the beach with my belly, and it seemed to me that I was transmitting this love to my baby. I had definitely reconciled with pain, because now I had found the treasure of happiness. I walked, just walked: as I did so, I found myself among surfers, swimmers and ordinary people, who shared the joy with me. Then we had two more children: I had never been so happy, I discovered motherhood. Fortunately, I had managed to start a family, and I was reaching for the bluest of skies.
However, despite so much happiness, something was missing. Swimming. Thank God, my children ended up being good swimmers, and they love the water, not to mention the sea. But, because of those strange things that happen, I didn't swim much. They could tell something was wrong with me, and they would ask me about it. Kids, mom is fine, don't worry, I always told them. But I felt bad, I lied to them. Juan, my oldest son, noticed that I sometimes cried in secret; one night, while I was crying in my room, he approached me. In the most loving way, he asked me what's wrong mommy. I couldn't keep lying to him, that's something I'll never learn; So, in his language, I told him that there was something I loved as much as I loved them, and I couldn't show it. The fat man stayed thinking for a few minutes, until he told me "ok mommy, I'm going to make you smile", and he hugged me.
From that night on, Juancito teamed up with Valentín and Delfina, my other children, and they made me smile. Every morning, the three of them would come to bed like a battalion: they would jump, laugh and I would hug them, in an exchange of true affection, showing how much I love them. They would fill me with drawings, posters, most of them inspired by my weakness: waves, fish, boats, water.... We also played a lot (and still do), and, from time to time, I gave them candies; as long as they behaved well, because I make sure they are healthy (both in body and soul, in mind) and that they don't eat junk. I'm sure Juan knew that "that thing he loved so much" was swimming; some time later, I realized it.
While I was doing some laps in the club's pool, a swimming teacher who had participated in the previous open water marathon in Santa Fe was watching me. When I finished, he came up to me and said: "Skinny, you really swim great; wouldn't you like to be part of our team? I couldn't believe it. Those words had been the end of the wait, like the arrival of a Messiah: as if by magic, the light had returned to my life. I didn't even think about it: I said yes, that it was an honor for me, that they could count on me for anything. Now I felt really complete. Without knowing it, that teacher's name was Gaspar and he was known to my husband; Juancito had told his father about our talk, so Martín told Gaspar about my situation. By the way, he knew who I was and didn't even ask me what my name was, because he already guessed it. A week later, I joined the team, by the way, all of them younger; I realized that I lacked training, because I had no air left and I got tired in the 100 freestyle: Gaspar at one point made me stop my journey and advised me that, if I wanted to go far, I had to get my act together and train seriously.
I kept fighting life and I set out to improve myself. Monday through Friday, every night, I trained for two hours, doing what makes me happiest. The water was definitely part of me, and I was part of the water, as if it were an extension of my body or the sweetest melody I had ever heard. But I also didn't realize that I was sacrificing time with my family for this, and with work, how did I do it? I would go every morning and perform my duties normally, and then be with my husband, my children, do the housework, help them with their homework, share the daily routine, and then go to the club and come home exhausted. But, in truth, it was worth it. All this effort was natural for me, because from an early age I knew what it was like to face the walls of the difficult, and I became more and more convinced that I had grit: I realized it as I slipped into the water and when I showered, with the warm drops running down my skin. Mom and my sister were delighted with what was happening to me, and they supported me; at work they couldn't believe that I could swim so much, and they admired me; my friends were thrilled and my children kept saying that their mom was a mermaid: all of this made me proud, but it wasn't enough. I wanted more.
The open water competition in Santa Fe was not far away and there was a growing expectation. I wanted to participate, I was dying to do it; Gaspar asked me if I was ready, I answered him again that I was. I just needed to prepare and do things right. Fortunately, now I had plenty of air and I was much less tired: I had faith. Although, in reality, I never believed it, and I don't plan to. Those two months before the competition I trained a lot: I had all my goals set on this, which was so special for me. Little by little, I realized that my back was getting wider, and I was happy; Gaspar was happy for my effort, and my teammates encouraged me, because they knew my story and were always willing to give me a hand.
Until February arrived. We left for Santa Fe and when we arrived, the coastal air enveloped us, like a good omen. Swimmers from all over the world were participating, it was very important. Days before, Gaspar explained the rules to us: it would be 50 kilometers along the river, and if anyone got tired, they would abandon the race. So much distance scared me, but there was no way I was going to turn back, because this was a dream for me. The night before the competition, I let myself go and dreamed of my dad, who was with me at this moment and wished me fulfillment and light for my life. Tears rolled down my pillow again, the next morning as I woke up.
Boats and motorboats sailed down the river. Crowds of people gathered on the bridge and on the shore, witnessing my celebration. The whole town wanted to crash my 15th birthday party a few decades later: the various swimmers were getting ready in their world, and I was flying in my cloud of diaphanous reverie. Seeing myself ready for the occasion, I shuddered again and thought of my dad: I'm sure he'd be happy for me. The whole squad gathered and Gaspar, after a few words, wished us luck and strength. Now it was just a matter of jumping into the river and, accompanied by a guide and protective boat, swimming and reaching our destination.
Hundreds of fish artisans invaded the waters. Very concentrated, I was braced and breathing like a yogi, helped by the hydration that the guy in the boat gave me every 15 minutes. My mind was blank: as the hours went by, the other swimmers moved away and I got more tired. My body was asking for a truce, to give up, to leave everything; but my mind and above all my heart would not give up, because I am a warrior. I swam for almost eight hours: I had never done so much before, and it was really a revolution. The brown waters of the river accompanied me, it was only him and me; The boat, guardian, did its role in a more than kind way. At no time did I get lost, because I was guided by intuition and courage. Thus the hours passed, smooth, tense, beautiful, until I was arriving, little by little, to Coronda.
The people, stoic and dressed for Sunday, were waiting for us. Boats, boats, and even ships welcomed us. A different climate prevailed, as it had not been experienced for a long time. Braced and braced, I was approaching the point of arrival; All participants we met again. The fans were shouting and cheering us on, although I heard very little. Gaspar, who had just arrived, was approaching the shore: his eagerness was overpowering him and, like a child, he wanted to jump into the water. Meanwhile, I... I just wanted to get there, I couldn't give more. Tom, the American swimmer, was fighting me inch by inch, but I didn't care: I was all about enjoyment. So much so, that I finally arrived; I didn't even realize it.
The applause of the people, the flashes, the journalists, all surrounded Tom. He had been the winner of the marathon: deservedly, because he is one of the best swimmers I saw. I came out of the water, calmly, until Gaspar and all the boys, euphoric, came to hug me. I didn't understand anything, until I heard a "How Maria, didn't you know? You came in third! How? Was it true? Without knowing it, I had fulfilled an old dream. The happiness I felt can't be explained: the tears, once again, rolled again, but this time they were happy tears. Some media approached me and, laughing out loud, I talked to everyone, thanking and remembering each of those who supported me and trusted me. And when we got on the podium, Tom, a German swimmer and I, the applause and cheers took me to glory.
I come out of the sea. Dusk falls on the beach and my children are looking for me. Much life I lived, much life awaits me. From pain one learns, from joy one enjoys. Here I am, blue mermaid who needs the waves. Surely, tonight, when I close my eyes, I dream of myself swimming all the waters of the Earth. Deep waters, like my feeling. Deep waters, like the bottom of the sea. Deep waters, like true love. Because what I feel is love: a love that no one can understand and that only I understand, without selfishness. I am happy: everything I lived through taught me to fight, to go ahead and follow my dreams, which I will never give up. Naked dreams of water. Water. Water.
THE END
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