Some people wake up for their kids. Some for the dog. Some for that first, delicious sip of coffee.

Others? Roll over and reach for the scroll.

Recently, I've been waking up for… swimming.

Not to train for a race. Not to "burn calories."

But for one main reason:

Swimming is one of the last places left where screens can't follow me.

There are no notifications. No noise.

It's quiet. Boring, even.

And that's exactly why I've come to love it.

The Cold. The Boredom… The Point.

Most mornings, I resist it. I fight the cold water. I fight the stillness.

It's like my brain cries out for quick dopamine.

But water doesn't care. It doesn't move faster just because I'm restless.

And somewhere — maybe around lap 7, maybe 12 — I stop fighting.

I stop thinking.

And for a few rare moments, I enter something we almost never get in modern life: flow.

It's Not Just About Swimming

You don't have to swim to experience this. A physical practice is the point.

The Buddhists call it "kinhin" — walking meditation. A slow, intentional movement through space that can quiet the mind more deeply than stillness.

Take William Gladstone, the four-time British Prime Minister. In the middle of political chaos, he'd retreat to his estate… and chop trees.

One elm took him two full days to bring down. No distractions. Just the next stroke of the axe. And the next.

It was his way of calming the noise. A physical outlet that helped him return to focus.

Movement Is a Form of Rest

Here's the paradox:

Hard movement brings peace. If it tires the body but calms the mind — do it.

It doesn't matter what your practice is.

Swim. Walk. Run.

Stretch. Box. Lift. Chop.

Dance in your kitchen if you like.

Your body needs something to do…

Or your mind will do too much.

Before the World Starts Spinning…

I never used to work out first thing. I'd stew in my thoughts, overthink everything, and burn hours in a fog.

But now, I start with movement.

Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic philosopher, spoke of "washing away the dust of earthly life."

Not to be pampered — but to clear the cobwebs.

To return to himself.

Stillness must be created. And it often begins by moving your body.

You don't need a pool. Or an axe. You don't need an hour or a perfect plan.

If we want to be more present, more focused, more grounded.

Then we must care for our bodies as if they carry our lives.

Because they do.

And when we move them well, they move us well.

Have a great week ahead.

Kia kaha & with love,

Chris x