Yesterday I stood at the side of the pool, wet from the shower. I was geared up: swimsuit, goggles, training flippers, latex cap, anticipation.

The water was warm as I lowered myself in. No need to take the anticipatory breath and brace against the expected shock of cool water. I just plopped in and the water welcomed me back.

My feet hit bottom; I flexed my body to the left, put hands together in prayer above my head, and pushed of leftward, swimming under the lane marker and into the second lap lane.

I remember this. The almost laminar flow of water over my shoulders and arm muscles and back. The subtle bob of breathing. The submerged silence. The effort that seems effortless.

This was my first lap swim in three years. I had stopped because of the shoulder injury a student had done to me in 2003. I began swiming at 18 months (though lap swimming came into the picture about 18 years later), so you might imagine how difficult it is to think swimming may not be possible.

In recent years I have swum in rivers and lakes, but that's easier for two reasons. First, it doesn't happen often, the way lap swimming does. Second, the water is very cold, allowing for shorter swim time combined with maximum anti-inflammatory effect.

I don't, at this point, aspire to daily lap swimming. Instead, I want to just swim to enjoy it. No competitive thinking, no compulsive counting of laps, no compulsory routines or strokes.

Just the glide.

You kick, and then you glide,
you kick kick, and then you glide,
it's all in the rhythm
it's all in the rhythm
it's all in the rhythm of the heart.

-The Short Sisters