The Ocean and the Hookworm

In training for a 5 km swim to Goree Island (November 1) today I had my first ocean swim training at Oukam beach. I went with a colleague – Tod – who is part fish so I could hardly keep up. I was extremely nervous – just a miniscule sac of organs in an ocean world ready to swallow me without hesitation or regret. The water was dark, salty, and – in my mind – unpredictably swaying. I was scared to trust myself to be at ease with the strokes of my arms, the kicks of my legs, the breathes of my lungs. The depths of the waters seemed endless, uncharted, and impenetrable. What the hell am I doing here, I thought, no, I mentally shuddered.

As I struggled to follow Tod – psychologically first, then physically – Mother Nature began to laugh at me. I swam by schools of fish that were unsympathetically unimpressed with my homo sapien sapien superior existence. We came across a tiny jellyfish that was wondrously wading at ease in the massive Atlantic without a qualm or worry in the world, while I drudgingly tread the waters.

We reached the beginning of a cove area that contained a significant amount of plastic trash. The ocean still swayed, unfettered. If I could understand its speech, I wondered, what it would say?

On our return swim to the shore Tod suggested that I may want to avoid the area where the surf breaks. Sounds good, I said, I’ll follow you. 15 minutes later I found myself in the area where the surf breaks. Rocks were all around, covered in porcupine-ish sea urchins, while I swallowed cup-full after cup-full of salt water from the breaking waves.

After an hour (1 mile) of swimming, we reached the shore. Standing, I gazed out upon the water in awe of the force and splendor of the ocean. Looking down, I noticed that one of the two hookworms, which temporarily inhabit my left foot, had moved all the way from the toe next to my pinky toe all the way to my big toe. I wondered what Mother Nature had in store for me next…