Rehearsal

For a future that never arrived.

Twenty-four hours ago I was lying in a hospital bed waiting for an MRI.

The day before, I had experienced a few minutes of double vision and the sensation that I was tipping to one side.

The symptoms disappeared quickly, but they were concerning enough that my doctor sent me to the emergency room.

A CT scan.

An overnight stay.

An MRI.

A neurologist.

For about a day, I found myself considering possibilities I hadn’t expected to be considering.

What if this wasn’t temporary?

What if something had changed?

What if I needed to be more careful?

What if swimming alone in Walden was no longer on the table?

The MRI ultimately showed no evidence of stroke, mini-stroke or anything brain-related.

The neurologist was confident the symptoms were vestibular—something involving the inner ear rather than the brain.

He cleared me to return to swimming and normal life.

A giant nothingburger, as they say.

Or perhaps not.

The experience reminded me of something.

Many things in life are rehearsals.

Not rehearsals in the sense that they aren’t real.

They are completely real.

But they give us a chance to briefly experience a future that may never arrive.

For a day, I rehearsed what it might feel like to lose some of the freedom I take for granted.

The freedom to wake up before sunrise and swim in nature.

The freedom to drive to Walden.

The freedom to slip into the water and swim as far as I feel like swimming.

The freedom to trust my body.

This morning I found myself back at Walden.

The sun was shining.

The water was warm.

The lake was beautiful.

I planned to swim a couple thousand yards.

Instead, I kept swimming.

Five thousand yards later, I climbed out feeling lighter than when I got in.

Not because I had escaped something terrible.

Because I had been reminded of something wonderful.

We spend a surprising amount of time rehearsing futures that never happen.

Sometimes that creates unnecessary worry.

Occasionally, however, it creates appreciation.

For one day I imagined life with less freedom.

The next day I was given that freedom back.

Whether the lesson lasts remains to be seen.

But for now, Walden feels a little more glorious than it did a few days ago.

And perhaps that is enough.

Swim #939

5,003 Yards

292,201 Yards This Year

1,711,259 Yards Lifetime