Underwater.

I tell my students that sometimes just starting is the hardest thing about writing. So many times over the past few months I thought, "I should blog..." and then life got in the way.

But I had no shortage of fun during my radio silence from this blog. It was a glorious summer, and so good to spend most of it in our house. Sam threw me a huge 41 1/2 birthday bash in July, complete with old friends, new friends, kung fu friends, pulled pork barbecue, and jalapeño Cheetos - the greatest junk food of all time. (Why 41 1/2, you ask? Because my 40th was celebrated very modestly - if wonderfully - in New Zealand, two days after I finished radiation, and then, really, who wants to celebrate turning 41 in January?)

And then in early August, Carson and I joined my sister and her family for a wonderful trip to Curaçao in the southern Caribbean. (Sam, unfortunately, had school and work obligations here in RI.) It was a delightful week in which I finally found snorkeling from shore that rivaled the Samoas in terms of visibility and marine diversity. I spent more time in the water than out of it, and finally saw juvenile angelfish. One of these days I'll make it back to the South Pacific and finally see a juvie Emperor angel... 

(I realize this is an intermediate phase French angelfish, 

but it's such a great photo I wanted to include it.)

Moreover, before the Curaçao trip I wisely decided it was high time to order a snorkel mask with prescription lenses. It made all the difference in the world. I even found an octopus!

As much as I already loved snorkeling, I truly had no idea what I had missed before, thanks to my severe myopia. I Skyped with Sam every night from Curaçao, giddily recounting each day's finds: "A peacock flounder! Needlefish swimming just under the surface!," etc. etc. 

Her reply: "I'm only sorry you never saw them before."

For good measure, here's one last Curaçao photo - indisputably the best of the bunch. I love cephalopods! I learned that squid are so intelligent that they can communicate different messages to squid on either side of them by changing colors on the appropriate side. Every time we saw them, they were in neat, soldier-like rows. I even got inked at one point, which I consider a badge of honor. 

Snorkeling is a form of communion and meditation for me, my most contented and essential self. It is focused on breathing and movement but rewards keen observation that is further enhanced by intellectual curiosity. I learn more every time I go, because when I leave the water happy and tired, I then spark my mind by finding out as much as I can about what I've just seen. The only downside is that, once again, life gets in the way.

Not that fresh water is a deterrent. I've decided that I'll bring my gear anywhere I can safely (i.e., without freezing!) snorkel, even if the water's chilly. (To that end, I'll be ordering more Lavacore gear soon - I recommend it for anyone like me who needs underwater gear but has a latex allergy, or Reynaud's Syndrome. Truly, I'm a mess.)

Now that I can see, I brought my gear to the Adirondacks and then to New Hampshire at the end of the summer. Upper Saranac Lake is terrific for swimming, but too rusty for shooting below the surface, so instead here's a photo of the largemouth bass I nicknamed "Old Grand-Dad." He likes to hang out right at the end of our friends' waterline in Spofford Lake, New Hampshire. 

What didn't I do this summer other than write? Well, I didn't really shop for clothes, although I did buy a pair of Soludos espadrilles, which I adore. They are the real deal, with a rubber-on-jute sole.

The other thing I didn't do was run, at least not very much. I injured my coccyx muscles (go ahead and laugh), most likely from improper and insufficient stretching before and after running. It's been a very painful couple of months that have since been characterized by sitting on a donut cushion at work, groaning like an old man when I shift positions after sitting too long, and some very intimate physical therapy sessions (please, go ahead and laugh again. I have to. But let me assure you that this "massage" feels like anything but). If snorkeling is my water-based form of meditation, it turns out that running has been its inferior but still important land-based counterpart, and I miss it terribly.

It doesn't help that autumn is running weather, or that it seems like everyone I know is doing their first 1/2 marathons or 10Ks and I'm literally sidelined. It's been frustrating, especially since I worked so hard to become a runner in the wake of my cancer treatment (as a dear friend said, "It's literally adding insult to injury!"). It makes me feel a little underwater, and not in the right way. But I'm hoping to get back into it in the next couple of weeks, as I'm healing slowly but surely. Wish me luck.

Yours underwater,
Kelley