4 . Barbara, 70, and me, at 71, have swum together for at least 50 years. We swim in a quiet cove (小海湾). It’s home to seagulls, a duck or two, and kayaks (独木舟) on occasion. The difficult summer drought of 2021 brought a burning sun that warmed the water. As the drought eased and the water cooled in late August, we decided to keep swimming. We have both read Bonnie Tsui’s Why We Swim, a fine book about cold-water swimming. We challenged ourselves to swim for as long as possible through September and into October.

I have long loved swimming, though the fear of being seen as fat has dogged me. I am one of those female bodies poorly displayed in bathing suits. Cold-water swimming deepened my sense of well-being and let me use my body. It became a ritual Barbara and I embraced as swimming sisters. When she returned to the United States immediately after our Canadian Thanksgiving, I did not know how I could continue our cold-water tradition. I wasn’t prepared to freeze alone.

But, I had to swim; there were larger commitments I should stick to. In the summer, we planned to cross from the cove to an island across the lake. I had to stay fit. We also planned to host a cold-water swimming race for locals in the fall. We would make it an annual event, improving our strength and endurance (耐力) so that, in our 80s, we might swim through October and into November.

With these plans in mind, I joined my local city pool. I had not been in a public pool for about 30 years. But my body said swim, my brain said swim and my heart, could not let go. So I went anyway.

I am swimming. I am alive to my love of the water, alive to my promise for the spring and the summer that will come. I intend to step back into the lake in May, and through September and October with Barbara. We are perfectly matched in our devotion, and increasingly aware of the miracle of being able-bodied enough to share the cold-water wonder side by side.

When I was a kid, my parents were busy working so they enrolled (登记) me in the Spartak Tennis Club in Moscow. Every day after school my parents would take me to Spartak and I would be there until maybe nine o'clock. All we did was play tennis, eat, do homework, have fun and hang out. It was basically my second family.

In that second family was a woman who was like a mother to me, my first coach, Larissa. I still refer to her as my second mother. She taught me everything I know about how to play tennis, but she’s also a wonderful person. She’s kind and patient, which is not what you expect from one of the top tennis coaches in Russia.

Her program when I was little was based on tricking us into doing our exercises. She would put a candy under the cones (锥形物), and we would try to hit the targets with balls, you got to have an ice cream.

Of course we worked hard and I didn’t let her down.

My second-ever tournament was the Moscow Championships, and I won. Afterwards Larissa came up to me and said, “Congratulations, Enjoy today because tomorrow it’s back to work.” She was always telling us to celebrate and have fun with any particular achievement but to always remember there is something more you can do, something more you can achieve.

Now every time I go back to Russia I go to Spartak to see Larissa. We look at all the pictures from all the birthday parties and tournament and celebrations. It is really cool to have someone like her in my life. Larissa is still coaching, but we don’t talk much about tennis any more. We just talk.