This pandemic affected me in various ways, negatively affecting my daily life. The medical emergency forced us into isolation and did not allow me to continue swimming, so I got weaker. Prior to the catastrophic calamity that isolated us, I swam two to three hours a day, three days a week. Every time we conducted strength testing, my doctor would express astonishment at my level of strength. 

I started swimming ten years before coming to Florida, although it was baby steps for the first five years. For that first half-decade, I attempted to grow stronger by moving my legs against the resistance of the water. In Year Eight, my new instructor taught me to swim without using my legs. It was a snail’s pace, but it was still movement. My tenacity helped build my muscles and endurance, making it all but essential to swim for nine hours a week and become highly comfortable in the pool. In fact, I was so relaxed in the water that I carefully considered kayaking as a new hobby.

Two months later, I was checking out programs on the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America website. They had an upcoming swimming fundraiser involving laps or a cannonball, which intrigued me, as I thought I could do this. Initially, I contemplated doing a mile until I reasoned that three or four miles would be more impressive. I went to class the next day and vociferously verbalized my intentions so everyone could hold me accountable.

I explained how I was unsure of my planned distance; I just knew I wanted to accomplish a swim for distance and raise money. Initially, I swam five laps a day until I became stronger and swam twenty-five in a three-hour window. The more muscles I grew, the more I was sure I could swim the longer three or four miles. I was fearful of one thing: my multiple sclerosis exhaustion issue, as I knew I could not ignore or hide that. 

The plan was simple yet undefinable as I was not sure how much swimming my multiple sclerosis would allow me to do. I had heard of various races that lasted several days, so I aimed to swim as far as possible for fourteen days. I used a sports clicker to track the number of laps I swam. The aquatic director told me how far the lap length was in each pool area I swam. I was terrifyingly optimistic about race day, approaching much sooner than I thought.

When I arrived at the Community Center pool on day one, terror played my nerves like a heavy metal guitarist. We took some pictures for posterity, as I planned to show everyone how healthy I looked before the swim. I took one last long look over the pool as if it was my fiefdom and I was the emperor, although I did not have the power of a king. I knew I had a grand agenda, so it was time to put my big boy swim trunks on and start the breaststroke.

So, for the next fourteen days, I immediately began swimming every morning, attempting to achieve more distance whenever possible. As my numbers grew, I rested a little less and swam a little more, trying to squeeze out extra laps. On day eight, I realized I may have reached five miles and was extremely excited about this potential outcome. However, I was absolutely astonished when the final tally came in, as I had swum an amazingly astounding eight miles over a fourteen-day time frame. 

Yes, I am a U.S. Marine, and I am pretty proud of that fact, but this swim and the 5K I did years prior while disabled are moments of great pride for me. I will forever remember these achievements until I am old and Gray, living in a nursing home, slinging my oatmeal on the walls. Sadly, I should have exercised during the pandemic, but it is challenging to exercise on land, as I must fight gravity. Unfortunately, I will no longer be a swimmer without extreme help and a significant amount of time.

My search begins now for a new form of exercise to benefit my cardiovascular system, muscles, mental agility, and overall well-being. For this scavenger hunt, at the top of my list of possibly new fitness tools, a hand-cycle sits perched on the edge of my mind. The Veterans Administration has spoken to me about hand-cycles and how they would help me get fitted adequately for this mighty mechanical mechanism. There is a lot to know about hand cycling, so I have a lot of research to do. Not to mention, there are a few other ideas I must research that are rolling around my brain like marbles in a tin can.

The only constant in life is change.

Scott Cremeans lives in Central Florida. He is a US Marine diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2001 at 27. Scott has successfully managed his MS symptoms independently with his faith, friends, and funnies. You can read more about his MS journey by visiting his blog, http://www.mymsramblings.com, where he muses about life in the slow lane with his literary wit.