Thursday, April 15, 2010
It's hard to stay focused when you're swimming. You can't read a magazine or listen to music or watch television. There is nothing to distract your brain from the fact that you are exercising, that your lungs are burning, that you still don't know how to do a successful flip turn in the shallow end.
I have been utterly satisfied by this, however. I have found my stride and some consistency with my lap swimming. Surprisingly enough I've made improvements.
It was not without it's trials. There is a constant battle between me and everyone else. Which I don't doubt will continue. It seems to be a trend in the world. Inconsiderate people are multiplying faster than they can update their Facebook status.
These kerfuffles in the pool aren't even funny stories to re-tell although I know that usually that's what we're looking for; the funny in the end.
But I'm here to attest that following the rules of lap swimming has only gotten me hit in the face, the leg and the butt by grown men who have no clue about how to split a lane or remember the old ways of simple respect for the fairer sex.
And while I turn my head to breathe I come to these conclusions about my life. Following the rules has gotten me nothing. I should have risked more and more often. I am the way I am (acerbic, intolerant of foolishness, efficient, alone) because I know how to grin and bear it extremely well.
'They' are often fond of saying "It's never too late." I disagree.
Sometimes this is all there is. No better, no worse.
Stroking through life one lap at a time, getting hit in the ass by a loser who backstrokes; then moving faster than the stupid lady who is exercising in the lap swim lane when she knows she's not supposed to and then the rare moments when you get a swimmer who keeps the rhythm or when you have the lane to yourself for all the flip turn practice you can stand. Then you do it all over again.
Up and down the pool until your body is done.