The water gave off a damp fragrance. The wind lightly touched his body. He took a deep breath of the moisture of the lake. He loved swimming. He looked forward to the moment when his body would break through the smooth membrane of the lake's surface.
The mass of water undulated in welcome.
Sometimes he had the feeling he had always belonged in the water, had been thrown up on the shore by mistake, and that divine water, the primordial substance, was better than air. Unfortunately he would not have survived without air, since otherwise he would long ago have moved down under the water surface. He had driven from City and now he was getting ready for a swim after an unusually long period of absence.
Standing on the shore, he felt strangely stirred. Goose bumps of pleasurable excitement came up on his body. He got ready to jump. His eyes found an imaginary target on the surface.
He set off at a run, seeing in his mind the tunnel through which his body would blaze its trail into the dark mass of water.
It was as easy as always and he leapt into the tunnel, cutting through down into the water.
He sensed he had found the right angle, and optimal speed. For a while he carried on enjoying the ride through the wet darkness, letting his body be massaged by the thousands of sparkling bubbles swarming all around him. His movement slowed down gradually, he glided for a few more seconds and listened to the muffled booming sounds around him. Underwater he felt safe, as if he had found a refuge from the rapacious world above. If he only could, he would have fallen asleep here, where the touch of soft water reminded him of a feather quilt. He ran his fingers through it, so beautiful, but impossible to catch and squeeze. He couldn't pet it as he would pet his lover or his dog; he could only caress it by being immersed in it. He raised his head and chest. His body ceased to glide and he changed direction, pushing off with his feet and letting his arms undulate around his body. Again and again he pushed upwards, gaining speed. He sensed that the surface was near but didn't yet want to reach it. He didn't use his arms since this would certainly have increased his speed and broken his glide. He wanted to move under the surface as lazily as if he had been chatting with a friend or lazing in bed with his mistress. The water caressed him shamelessly all over his body.
Slowly, however, the need for a deep breath increased, and so he let his body float up just below the surface. The pressure on his chest was already like a rock.
His head emerged from the water. He took a lung-full of air. He breathed out. Then in again, out. In a blur, through the trickles of water running down his face and over his eyes, he saw the huge lake surface framed by the dark edge of the forest. I am part of this lake, he thought happily. He turned over onto his back and floated. Blissfully on the surface. But then he noticed he was not alone in the lake - 20 metres off he registered the head of some other swimmer, and this spoiled his good mood. He turned back onto his belly and swam a few strokes in the opposite direction, glancing over his shoulder to see where the unknown intruder was heading. To judge by the little oval waves on the surface, he was making for the „interior" of the lake, which was exactly where our swimmer had wanted to go - he had planned to follow his short romp in the shallows with a victorious battle against the lake, and long fast strokes that would humble it. He had looked forward to stopping in the middle of the lake and the darkening sky, and to savouring the sense of perfect solitude, and silent harmony with the universe. He had looked forward to the prospect of being, for one short moment that evening, at the centre of the cosmos - like a sun in the centre of a galactic constellation of water, earth and sky.
Only now an unknown satellite was menacing his galaxy.
The stranger was a good swimmer and there was a danger that he would reach the centre of the lake first.
Our swimmer, however, was very fast, and certain that he could overtake him fairly quickly. But was there any point? The last thing he wanted now was to have to communicate with someone, and the idea of an awkward meeting between two strangers in the solitude of the lake centre spoiled his appetite for competition. Even if he reached the centre first, he would still keep on seeing his head and sensing his presence. Even if he were twenty metres away, in the solitude of the lake, where there was no escape, it would be the same as if the stranger were standing on his foot in a packed tram. And his view of the smooth surface of the lake would be hopelessly spoiled, with no point in even thinking about his harmony with the universe.
Vexed, he took a few indecisive strokes toward the stranger.
He decided to overtake him after all.
His decision was abrupt and he didn't have a time to consider it. He breathed in and puffed out his chest. He breathed in deeply, pumping oxygen into his lungs and then feeling it running through his veins like ants. Grandly he inhaled and exhaled several more times. Now his body was charged to bursting point with oxygen, he could feel the ants in his blood and the rush of power, and he started to look forward to the race. He estimated the distance.
He made the last decision.
A deep breath and a jump forwards.
He kicked away the water behind him. His arms cut through the mass of water. Soon his body was in a horizontal position, his legs close to the surface. He stretched out. He swam with his eyes almost closed and his head level with his body. Every time he emerged from the water he vehemently inhaled and with every exhalation the intensity of his strokes increased. He sensed he was gaining more and more speed.
He was cutting across the lake like an arrow.
He knew he could swim very fast and for a moment it occurred to him that the unknown intruder would scarcely fail to notice his prowess. But the next moment he left thoughts behind. They weren't fast enough. He was achieving the trance state he knew so well, since the only reason he ever survived races was his ability to free himself of his mind, and the pain and strain his body had to overcome. He functioned like a machine, and concentrated only on continuously increasing his speed, on technique, breathing and rhythm. His mind purged itself. Every problem fell away. He forgot Blanka and Josef. The burden of recent days vanished.
He saw just one single goal - the next metres of water surface, which one after another he left behind. He reached his maximum speed.
After a while he ceased to be aware of swimming. He swum automatically, as if he was now merely watching himself. His body seemed liberated from pain and strain. The sounds he heard were muffled. Once again he reached something he already knew well - that strange state of ecstasy, a merging with the rhythm of nature. It was a feeling of safety and rapture that always seemed to be a place of return, and yet of perpetual discovery. He wanted to stay in this state for as long as possible. When back on dry land he had many times tried to recover the sensation, but to no avail. He couldn't even talk about it with anyone. After every occasion he would return to Blanka, sitting in front of the TV. The children would welcome him with gleeful shouts. He would bend down to them. He loved them ! But suddenly he felt so far away! Perhaps I have been on the threshold of death, he thought, but he knew that it wasn't true. So where have I been? Then he went for a walk with the dog and watched him running in the field. Drive yourself to death, he thought. But immediately he felt ashamed! Why? I love little Bullet, after all! So he waited for him at the edge of the field and when he ran up he stroked his head guiltily and scratched him behind the ears.
But immediately he felt ashamed. Why, I like our Shot a lot! He waited for him on the path and stroked his head and scratched him behind ears with a guilty compassion.
compassion. All the same, though, it would be a beautiful death, he thought.
He realised he was now swimming with strokes that were too long and smooth. He was conscious of no pain or fatigue at all, as if he had just programmed his body and gone off somewhere for a walk with his mind. But now he was afraid he had overdone it. He returned to the water, slowed down and looked about him. He was in the middle of the lake. There were spots in front of his eyes and he couldn't catch his breath. He could hear his own loud wheezing, and the roaring of blood in his temples.
He had to lie on the surface. He floated on his back and tried to calm his body. For a moment he was sure that his arms and legs were so exhausted that he would never be able to move a muscle again. His limbs lay limp in the water like strange alien protuberances. He was still in a bad need of oxygen. This time Blanca herself has told him she's having an affair with Josef at work.. Strange - almost as if she really wanted him to know. She didn't even have to tell him. She could have lied and he would never have found out about it. But while he was swimming, they both meant nothing to him.
I've swum them off, at least for a moment, he thought and watched the sky. The stars were already shining.
Then he remembered his other rival.
He raised his head and looked around. The lake was a calm reflection of the sky. Nobody anywhere.
Everywhere just the smooth surface of the lake.
He turned toward the shore. And there he could see his rival climbing out of the water, his yellow swimming trunks shining in the dark.
The man had evidently let himself be scared off.
He turned on his back again and smiled contentedly.
The water was warm.
