A Cat's Forehead

A small space will do. Image by Midjourney.

A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.
— Virginia Woolf

Woolf wrote these words particularly about women, arguing for a woman to be able to create any art, visual or literary, she needed both the space and financial independence to do so. That space wasn't just a physical one, but also a mental and societal one. Obviously, at the time of Woolf's writing, this was much more difficult for women than men. Yet, without trying to appropriate an argument made for female independence, the same is true for any artist. To create something, you need a place to work, time to think and freedom from obligations. I don't just mean financial obligations, but things like familial ones, taking care of kids, cleaning, laundry, buying groceries, cooking, worrying about rent and all the stuff that takes up so much of our time. While Woolf articulated this argument so well, she wasn't the first, nor the last to talk about creativity in that way. To do creative stuff, you really do need the freedom to pursue it. Freedom from errands and tedium of everyday life and from other people filling your time with their opinions. You need the freedom to explore. The freedom to get bored and let your mind wander the way it might in the shower or on a run.

Read more »

Summer Slide 

Warming stripes illustrating the changes in Toronto's annual average temperatures from 1841 to 2017. (Climate Lab Book) Image via CTV

As I looked up alone at summer’s last moon, our celestial satellite glared at me saying, “Where were you? I waited for you.” Another summer has slipped through my fingers. This is becoming so common to me that I've dubbed it the Summer Slide. Not the fun, water based backyard kind either. The kind that passes by with a whooshing sound. The Summer Slide is a slippery slope.

I tried to make summer something to remember. I tried to make it last. During lunch breaks, I ate take-out meals on a bench looking out over the lake. Some days I’d sit beneath a man made stand of birch trees whose leaves flickered and sparkled in a sumptuous breeze. For me, watching and listening to birch trees is mesmerizing. The wind through the leaves is reminiscent of a waterfall. That's if there was any wind. All summer Toronto felt airless and stagnant. To escape the heat I took to the water either by kayak or by bike, riding out to the Leslie Spit or by swimming in an open air pool. Still, the pace of the summer eluded me.

The heat definitely got the best of me. Whether it’s barometric pressure (scientists say it isn’t) or temperature fluctuations (scientists don’t really know) the heat seemed to triggered time altering headaches. While the humidity brought on allergies and congestion of unknown origin. The combination of heat and humidity ignited my skin which was covered in tiny hot blisters that were itchy as hell or what I imagine hell to be: itchy and hot. One particular weekend, I pulled a large pillow to the kitchen and I laid down on the cold floor and alternated between reading and napping. The tile floor of my basement kitchen is the coolest place in the house. Even still, it was too hot. I laid there rotting. I was like cooked meat resting and plated on the ceramic tile. Countless heat warnings warped and distorted every free moment (well, someone is counting. Sixteen heat warnings so far - we broke records for extended periods of overnight temperatures that never dropped. The last four years have seen extended heat warnings in September. The heat was relentless and slow and not just in Toronto. Forest fires that burned unabated, cloaked B.C. in smoke. Smothering humidity which might normally be balanced out by raucous summer rain storms lingered on and on. This year, when the rain did come it was in massive spurts and eruptions that when finished still didn’t break the humidity. The heat was such that when you felt the spit of rain from pregnantly dark clouds, you prayed you'd get caught in a downpour. When it didn’t happen, you felt cheated.

What will I remember from this summer? Ants crawling on sidewalk puddles of melted ice cream, fruit flies floating in a glass of beer, putrid lake water clouded by effluent from overflowing sewers. After a particularly short shocking storm, I watched from my office on the 28th floor, as the harbour filled with billows of brown spewing into the once blue, then green water. Most of all, I’ll remember how little I did. How little I moved. How I actively sought out stillness. I’ll remember the nothingness of it. The extended hours at work that led to nothing. The hours lying in the rumble of the air conditioner, unable to sleep. The days fighting to stay awake after a sleepless night. The money I burned on renovations. The money I drank trying to rehydrate. The money I ate at restaurants because cooking at home bordered on insanity. The errands I ran while sweating so much my shirts were constantly damp. The refreshing swim obliterated the second I left the water. The days wasted experiencing near psychedelic migraines. I drifted out on a tide of a sea of nothing on only a raft of despair, and you know what they say, nothing will come of nothing. Guess what? Nothing did.

It's Hot in the City 

Maybe looking at Wayne Thiebaud's “Untitled (Three Ice Creams)” from 1964 will cool you down.

You know it’s really hot when you step out of your air conditioned office to find yourself relieved that it’s only 28°C with 66% humidity instead of “boil-you-alive° C” with “you’ll-never-feel-dry-again%” humidity. I spent most of the weekend lying prone in front of a fan, trying not to move for fear the exertion of say, batting an eyelash, may lead to more sweating. I’m starting to think the scientist who said, “sweating is the body’s built-in air conditioner” never really knew what an air conditioner was, or what “sweating” was, or what “built-in” meant. I realize that weather isn’t climate and one heat wave during one summer isn’t proof that we’re destroying the planet yet it feels so much like what I imagine the end-of-times would feel like, that blaming something like climate change feels good. Not "comfortably dry at 23°C" good, but the kind of good like when you curse after stubbing your toe. It does nothing but it mends the psyche if not the toe.

One thing did occur to me during the hottest moments of the weekend. Feeling near death in the punishing heat is sort of an ailment of the poor or the slightly less privileged. People who can retreat to air conditioned homes have something that people living in older sweltering apartments do not. People who drive with their vehicles sealed shut while running their A/C on full blast are far more comfortable than those walking the hot sidewalks or riding the older stifling streetcars. Air conditioning used to be considered a luxury but it has become a necessity of life. During a heat wave the city advises those without air conditioning to seek out cooling centres. Air conditioning is as essential to a modern city as elevators. You can’t live in a tall building without an elevator to take you to your floor and you can’t live on that floor of a tall building (essentially a chimney stack with rooms) without air conditioning.
Read more »

I Swam Beneath a Gibbous Moon 

waxing gibbous

“Dry your chlorine bleached hair and stretch your sun ripened arms”

Hawksley gets it - the author requests you play this while reading this entry.

This week there’s been a chill in Toronto, beautifully illustrated by the appearance of socks, sweaters and jackets. I actually closed a window yesterday and last night I slept without my humming rambling air conditioning. We’ve been swept into Labour Day weekend like an unsuspecting child ushered into a car after falling asleep at a party of peers. The Air Show is here which is essentially the fork you stick in summer to announce it is officially done. From my office window I watched a rehearsing jet fold and tumble and rocket itself over the harbour like a bird playing in an updraft. I’ve felt an urgent need to stretch out my summer but it already feels like a compression rather than an extension. I was one of only five people at work on the Friday of the long weekend and even though I didn’t leave until 6:30-ish my phone buzzed over an hour later when a colleague updated a shared folder. What’s wrong with us?

When I got home I left my bike on the deck with the hope it would urge me to ride to Summerville Pool but I still flopped on the bed for an after work nap. When I roused I still had time to go for that swim. Should I go? I did the calculations that left me with five minutes to decide whether it would be worth it - it’s a 7 KM ride and by the time I got there I could squeeze in a 30-minute swim, but only if I left immediately.

It was cold for an outdoor swim, 17°C in fact, but the ride would warm me up. By the time I walked out on the deck of the pool dusk was settling in and it was even colder. Something I overlooked was that the pool is heated, but this is the first time I can remember the water feeling warmer than the air. As the sky darkened a waxing moon was glowing overhead. In the western sky someone spotted a drone hovering over the pool and adjacent Woodbine Beach. It’s blinking light and unsure flight suggested a dragonfly. The last embers of the sun glowed above the rooftops as I rode home. I’d hoped to go to a late movie but I still hadn’t eaten and that became the priority.

Another cold plate special for supper that used the last of the basil from my herb pot. The mint has already withered and withdrawn so I had to buy some to make a pre-meal Mojito. Not only was I out of mint, but the mix finished my rum. That was the last of it. If that’s not an omen to summer’s end I don’t know what is. The season of stout beer and scotch is upon us. Don’t despair, autumn is also a season for baking pies, bread, making hardy stews, chilli and cozy afternoons lit by a low hanging sun. Dry your chlorine bleached hair and stretch your sun ripened arms into a sweater. Autumn’s here, it’s okay if you want to cry.

On/In the Water 

The Donald D. Summerville Pool, image via BlogTO

A little known fact to those who don’t know Toronto is that the small collection of islands that shelter the harbour on Lake Ontario are inhabited and collectively, the islands are one of the best places to be on a hot summer day. As more and more Torontonians live in condos and apartments, more and more of them need a backyard. One thing Toronto has failed to do is maintain adequate green space for its citizens (which is why the idea of the so-called Rail Deck Park is so intriguing). A popular option for a lot of people living in the city who don’t have cottage-country-getaways is heading to the islands. A lot of people trying to get to the same place by limited means results in line-ups, and long line-ups for the city operated ferries are common. The water taxis on the waterfront are running constantly on the weekends and during the week, summer camps fill the islands with an almost midway like bustle.


View of Lake Ontario and the Toronto Islands from Corus Quay

In sixteen years I think I have been to the Toronto Islands three times. When I started biking for exercise, my main route to get out of the core was along the Lakeshore. When I lived in Parkdale, I knew multiple landmarks for doing 5, 7, 8, 10 km runs along the water. Running from Liberty Village I would experience the double sunset - run eastward and you’ll see the setting sun reflected off the downtown towers; run westward and you’ll see the actual setting sun falling behind Etobicoke and shimmering on the water. Unfortunately, my desk on the 26th floor looks north towards other taller towers, but reflected in the glazing of a new tower across from my office, I see the waterfront, Billy Bishop Airport, the Toronto Islands and the Lake beyond. I’ve come to realize how much of my happiness was dependent on the view of Lake Ontario. I also realized how close I live to the water but never experience it.
Read more »

Hot Town 

Today it’s expected the mercury will hover around 35°C with the humidex values feeling more like between 40°C - 45°C which has triggered a heat alert. Basically, avoid being outside if you don’t have to be. This is of course almost impossible. I’m lucky enough to work in a modern air conditioned building near one of the world’s greatest natural air conditioners - Lake Ontario. Riding in this morning felt like a late afternoon heat. Maybe “end of days” heat might be more accurate. I’m already feeling every bit the asthmatic I am so I will avoid exercise (easy, I’ve been avoiding it for years), and unfortunately, due to a persistent sore throat I won’t really be able to go the pool either. The options may be running out but luckily there are at least three or four movies I plan to see this weekend and again, there is the Lake. Even with crazy high humidity, the air off the Lake is incredible and there are a few pleasant Lake-facing parks to hang out beneath the shade of a tree or two. Last week when the house was lingering in the mid-30’s I took my time going home and spent some time in a couple of Toronto’s newer waterfront parks. I expect I’ll be doing more of that this weekend. The odd thing about it being so hot is how much like a winter snowstorm it can be. You just can’t do the things you planned on because everything comes to a crawl. Did you plan on working in the garden? Don’t. Were you going to meet some friends at a funky new pizza place with a wood-fired oven? Don’t. Planning on a long run or bike ride. Do not do that. The symmetry from last winter is also eery. The Saturday in February when I was without power, the temperature was -40°C which is 80°C cooler than today. To paraphrase James Murphy, if you're worried about the weather, then you picked the wrong place to stay.

Back to Front Crawl 

Regent Park Aquatic Centre. Image by Shai Gil

Saturday I went for my first swim in almost three months. I just didn't have the urge in the winter to walk out in the cold to a pool where first you have to have a cold shower, then get submerged in cold water then get out, have another cold shower and walk back home in the cold. That’s like four layers of cold I could do without. But it was warm on Saturday and once I had finished breakfast and got bored of reading online news (about Donald Trump), I thought it was time to get back in the pool.

In the three months I wasn't swimming, I’ve been going to the gym working out with weights and on fitness equipment. To be honest, I haven’t noticed any difference in my physique, strength or weight. Maybe biking is a little easier and, notably I haven’t gained any weight which must be a first for me between January and March. Usually I simply hibernate, perfect my brownie-in-a-mug recipe and pack on about 10-15 pounds. Not having gained weight has been a huge success - I really am the greatest (to be said in the voice of Donald J. Trump. See, I am reading way too much about that guy). One of my reasons for doing weights has been to strengthen my shoulders for swimming so it seemed like maybe I should try it out and see if any of this “dry-land training” had helped.

Short answer: no. No, it did not.

Weirdly I sort of forgot how to do “swimming”. Not necessarily the stroke itself but all the activity around getting in the water in the first place. I forgot the combination of my lock, I messed up the precise undress/redress sequence. I used to be like one of those marines that could take apart and re-assemble a rifle in a hot minute. Yet on Saturday I was putting on my shoes before my pants (metaphorically… and a little bit literally). Should I stretch out first? Where was my shampoo? Where are my flip-flops? Where do you put your shoes? Socks in the shoes, or in the backpack? Finally I got in the water and I could not make it through a 10-lap set. In December I was doing 3 x 20-laps. Now I could only do four or six laps and I was beat. Eventually, slowly I did my 50 laps and headed for the shower (via the hot tub of course). It was a reminder that the only way to improve at something is to keep doing it.

Then I noticed what I always notice. Those people who really are much worse at using public facilities than I am. The over confident guy who really thought he was tearing up the fast lane but was actually pretty slow (he was so impatient to get by me, then once in front he was so slow I immediately passed him). The guy who was really fast but jumped between lanes always looking for the less crowded one. That hipster couple who didn’t swim in the pool but only used the hot tub. There were people who didn’t really know how the showers worked. Motion sensors people! Someone clumsily knocked down the wall-mounted seat meant for those with mobility issues and it fell with a thundering clang. The two lithe 20-somethings in their string bikinis not wearing deck sandals who looked more like they were on spring break than at a lane swim. The old guy washing his junk with no regard for the fact that he was in public view. The woman who seemed to be drying her hair the entire time from when I entered the change room until the time I left. So I won’t worry about having to start over from the beginning. We’ve all been there before which is better than never getting there at all.

Learning to Breathe Underwater 

Like Courtney Barnett, I was having trouble breathing in

I used to think it odd that no matter how much I swam, it didn’t make me a better runner or cyclist. Likewise, biking didn’t seem to improve my running or my swimming. Admittedly, if you run, it does help everything. Running seems to be, pound-for-pound, the quickest way to lose weight or to stem the tide of being out of breath while climbing stairs. Lately though, I’m starting to think that’s not quite true. Swimming is really the linch pin in everything else. It took me ten days to realize it.
Read more »

The Last 100 Days 

Generations of kids grew up seeing this ad on the back of every comic book. Image via Comics Alliance

Sunday was day 100. Since August 1, I wanted to see how many workouts I could do in a one hundred day period. I’ve already explained why I started this before, but basically since the days of Charles Atlas ads on the back page of comics, advertisers have promised to make you a new man, in only 15 minutes a day, in just 90 days! That’s not that different from what Bowflex says now, or what researchers claim about interval training (I mean it is eerily similar).

Did I become a new man? Was my life transformed forever? Do I sleep better? Did I get all the gals? Well, not really but I did see some changes.
Read more »

Frequency Versus Intensity 

“Exercise more often” is the single most important thing I would say to someone who doesn’t exercise. It doesn’t have to be hard. Even if it is very brief, just start. Just do. Otherwise, you won’t, then you won’t again. Then again. Before you know it, the one thing you haven’t done is exercise. That’s what it is like for me. I go through two weeks of “crushing it old skool style" - running up hills, biking hard, swimming in cold water. Then something would happen and I’d miss a day or two. No worries. I’ll go tomorrow. Or the next day. Then I found I was starting from scratch all over again. I always thought it seemed to take three weeks to get into the habit of exercise and then another three weeks to notice any changes in waistline, energy etc. The thing was though, looking back at my exercise data (I track a lot of things), I don’t think I ever gave it six weeks to take.
Read more »

Poolside 

Taking the plunge from Monocle on Vimeo.

Labour Day isn’t the end of summer, but the beginning of its dismantling. In Toronto, all of the public pools close up for the season despite two more weeks of summer (a recent heat alert should be all the evidence you need). I’ve dreamt of Toronto having (another) Lakeshore pool for years. You could argue that Toronto has enough pools and outdoor pools are expensive to maintain especially when only open from July 1st to September 7-ish. In the 15 years I’ve been in Toronto there have been perhaps only 2 or 3 years when it wasn’t warm enough to swim from June until the end of September but that’s beside the point. Only the bravest Torontonians swim in the lake but we all suffer from the heat and humidity. To me, the two new lakeside parks, HTO and Sugar Beach are ridiculously separated from the water – you can look, but you can’t touch. There’s a real possibility of doing something in between these two concepts from London and Berlin. A pool that juts out into Lake Ontario from Sugar Beach could be naturally filtered like King’s Cross Pond and perhaps even be fed from Sherbourne Common and yet have the urban feel and “adultness” of the Haubentacher. It could be open early and late and tie in with the Distillery district. Or it could be paired with a skating rink for winter activity that felt like you weren’t just near the Lake but on it. Recent projects that were smaller in scale have flirted closely to this idea but never saw the bigger whole. Sherbourne Common filters stormwater run-off to create what can only be called a heat sink ode to concrete while across the road a lovely but small wind swept ice rink stands like a lonely igloo on a tundra of brown grass. If you had combined these ideas - the storm water run-off filtration, the skating rink and the faux beaches of Sugar Beach and HTO into one community pool - a pool for play and cooling off and not for laps or water slides, it would connect us to the water without the “perils” or liability of the wild part of the lake (or without needing any Blue Flag system). The facility could also have a public marina for kayakers, canoeists, paddle boarders or dragon boats. Toronto has never lacked for imagination but has always lacked in conviction, courage and will power. The existence of such projects in New York, London and Berlin just emphasis that we’re still a kid at the table.

Bushed 

For the last 23 days in a row, I’ve done a minimum of 30 minutes of exercise everyday. Be it running, swimming or biking I’ve forced myself to get off the couch or out of my chair and do something. I’ve surprised myself. I’ve even lost that five pounds I was trying to lose. Until yesterday, probably the hardest thing I’ve done was go for a morning swim. I’m not a morning person and I would wager that I’m still, physiologically speaking, asleep even two hours after I’m out of bed. I mean, I’m awake, I’m walking around, I’m drinking coffee or eating breakfast, but my brain is stuck in “fugue”, my heart rate and blood pressure are abysmally low, my body temperature is all wrong for a living human and I’m as prone to knocking a cup of coffee over as I am to picking it up. My eyes are open and my mind knows where I am, but my body is still asleep. It’s like the opposite of sleep-walking, more like walk-sleeping. It's not too different from lucid dreaming or a scene in Being John Malkovich. Even when I ride to work I’m sure I’ve dozed off while rolling along. That’s what made those morning swims so tough.

Yet yesterday, I think I over extended myself. I’ve felt a little guilty about not doing enough training rides and I’ve lost some of that desire I used to have to go on longer rides. Who has the time for a three or four hour ride? As I’ve added some bike intervals into my exercise I’ve also started getting out a little earlier on Sunday mornings which allows for longer, more exploratory rides.

That’s what I did on Sunday. A long ride to try and find a bicycle friendly entrance to Bronte Creek Provincial Park. I failed. Here’s the thing – I’ve done longer rides on hotter days but something about Sunday’s 120 km ride to nowhere completely sapped me. It drained my batteries. It sucked the life from me. As soon as I got home, I napped for over an hour. Then I showered and rode to Bay and Bloor to grab a steak & frites and went to a movie. During the previews I nodded off. During the film, which I enjoyed, I almost nodded off. When I got home, I started looking at e-mail, and nodded off. I decided to give in and go to bed. During my pre-sleep “floor routine” (some planks and stretches), I nodded off! I fell asleep at the foot of my bed while getting ready for bed!

Then I slept a thousand sleeps. All day at work I’ve been fighting off sleep. My legs still feel like noodles the next day. Yet I do not want my 23 day streak to end so I will drag myself home and do some kind of “recovery day” exercise. Then, I will most likely nod off.

Update: In fact I went on to run over 5 km, not in great time, but I did it and it hurt like hell. Then I did laundry and got up the following morning for a swim, making it 25 days.

Endless Summer Ends 

But it's a dry heat/cold/heat/cold/and so on. Image via Wikipedia

“…we rush like Disney-pushed lemmings to the edge of the lake”

In a dystopian future when climate change has left the Earth looking like the surface of Mars with a blistering radiant heat or impossibly frigid cold, we may look back fondly on our childish regret of summer unofficially ending after Labour Day. Until then, we rush like Disney-pushed lemmings to the edge of the lake hoping to wring more summery moments from one last weekend. As I’ve done next to nothing all summer when the bell tolled on August 29 I found myself circling places on the city map and plotting like Gen. Patton a tight schedule of sites to hit. Unfortunately, Friday was wasted buying and installing a ceiling fan but I did get to make another batch of ice cream and made up a weekend bucket list: I wanted to see at least one more movie, swim in an outdoor pool, drink at a microbrewery, and have at least a long bike ride.

Saturday turned into an unusual loop of the city from the east end to the west. In the morning I swam at the indoor Regent Park Pool, then, intending to break in some new riding shoes I planned to ride across town to the Indie Alehouse and somehow ride back for an outdoor evening swim – and stop to see a design exhibit on the way. The exhibit of Japanese design was closed for some reason, so I rode on to Alehouse where I had a sample flight of five of their beers and a meal of mussels and fries. To anyone who knows mussels, these were putzy, puny things and were a disappointment. Luckily the beer did not disappoint. I then bought a growler of their “It Takes Two to Mango” (“It’s like having a real mango in your mouth!” Tobias Funke) - which is 64 fl oz of beer in one large bottle. That’s almost two litres or half a gallon of beer. It turns out that two quarts of beer does not easily fit in a messenger bag. Despite that, I jumped atop my bike and to avoid traffic rode to the Lakeshore trail and headed back across town.
Read more »

Just Did It 

Haruki Murakami, author and spiritual leader of runners around the world. Image via New York Times

“As we're finding out, there are a lot worse things in life that we "just have to do"…”

As Nike implores us to "just do it", I just did it. Don't know why I did it? Not sure how I did it? I did it with a nagging headache. I did it without much preparation or training. I did to forget I was wasting my vacation. I did it to not think about other things. I did it to ignore my parents' health. I did it to ignore strife in the world. I did it to avoid my grossly messy apartment. I did it to avoid taxes. I did it to avoid other people. I did it to avoid the fact there were no other people to avoid anyway. I did it to make up for wasted time, as if it wasn't just wasting time in a different way.
Read more »

Wet, She's a Star 

Esther Williams wowed man and Mer-man alike with her athletic hour glass figure and classic good looks

“Wet, she's a star. Dry, she ain't.”

Esther Williams, the queen of Technicolor watery musical extravaganzas, has died. One can only assume Ryan Lochte, the American Olympic medalist, dreams of stardom of the likes of Williams or Johnny Weissmuller though I don't know if Lochte's charisma is enough to make up for his lack of any dry land talents. Williams on the other hand, never had any greater thespian aspirations than looking great in a one-piece. She herself was said to have enjoyed Fanny Brice's put down, "Wet, she's a star, dry she ain't." which was apparently aimed at Eleanor Holm, and not Ms. Williams. That unpretentious nature and her beauty were a winning combination.

It warms the heart to know Esther Williams lived to 91 though maybe her movie success didn't translate to happy marriages (see the New York Times piece). Yet, as she exited the lime light relatively young, she left a treasure of youthful images rather than watching her in some slow public decline. When I think of that smile and those gams - that totally went up to here! (he said gesturing up to his neckline), well, lets say it warms more than my heart.

Closed Circuit 

Swimming Studies by Leanne Shapton, image via leanneshapton.com

What's that thing our brain does instinctively, when we obsessively seek to identify patterns? Thinking? Is that it? Associative intelligence? "…the ability to think in non-sequential associations – similarities, differences, resonances, meanings, relationships, etc. –and to create (and appreciate) totally new patterns and meanings out of old ones." Whatever it is, it haunts me.

Last night I had a moment when all these coincidences coalesced around a single theme: swimming.
Read more »

Have a Swim. Feel Better. 

I've been thinking a lot about swimming lately, particularly as I've been too busy to go this week (I usually swim two to three times a week). Not swimming, especially in the summer is rough for an enthusiast such as myself. As an enthusiast, I'm prone to mentally collect lists of films that touch on my chosen diversion. You know what I mean. I cycle a lot, so I note any movie where bikes play a part of the story (think of Breaking Away, or of the cycling montage in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid or even The 40-year-old Virgin – where Steve Carrell is caricatured by his use of a bike). If you love hockey, you might list Slapshot or Mystery Alaska in your cerebral library of hockey movies (you’ll probably try to forget Rob Lowe’s Youngblood).

Relax. We'll have a swim. Feel better.

I’ve started to do that same thing with swimming, not just the obvious ones like Swimfan, Big River Man or The Swimmer but ones where a character is shown doing laps in lieu of a “long thoughtful walk on a beach” or something. I guess the idea is we can “see” a character thinking while a voice-over or inspirational music plays. The two scenes that come to mind are decades apart but similar (because they are in a pool – that’s about it really).
Read more »