One dive was all it took. One dive where I let go of all thoughts of everything and just went freefalling all the way to 60m. After that dive I was back to my normal freediving me, thinking I could do anything.
My thoughts raced away into the depth. Numbers. What if…?
I am grateful me and my lungs managed to get down to 60 without any training at all for 6 months. It means I don’t have to put in so much time into getting deep again if I want to. And I might want to. The depth – It’s calling me already, spellbinding me with the promise of what was before, of what could be again.
I lie on the surface and get mesmerized by the sunrays playing in the water, disappearing into the depth. I want to follow them down there, I want to feel the pressure, the narcosis, the danger, the loneliness and freedom.
Freefalling is my favourite part of freediving. It is the “free” of freediving. I recognized myself and my body was acting on autopilot. I had done this so many times before.
I was falling head first faster and faster as the sea was getting darker outside my closed eyes. It felt like the world was closing in on me. The familiar feeling of narcosis. Everything went nice and soft and blue and I wanted to stay for longer. The narcosis followed me back up close to the surface and I came out of the blue with a huge smile on the inside. I’m back. “Thank you”, I whispered to the sea.
After that 60m dive I was in the water for over 4 hours, doing safety diving for the competition and taking photos. I escaped the competition for a few minutes and was surrounded by orange fish that let me into their group, curiously studying me at the corner of their eyes. The magic was there again, if only for a moment.