Playing Pool

I went swimming for the first time in a month today. I always approach the pool with a feeling of trepidation. I’m one of those people who are always cold. So, submerging my body voluntarily in cold water isn’t something that comes naturally. Especially, first thing in the morning. I’m afraid I whine a bit. Going on about foot cramps, lack of sleep the night before and various aches and pains, all to give small voice to the million nerves that are repulsed by what I’m about to make them do. It sounds over over-dramatic. It feels over-dramatic. 

A few decades back when I first started, I used to be able to jump in and go. But now my brain has gotten involved and it demands I go slow, if I mean to go at all. I could be in bed. I dip my feet in and shiver, but manage to get up to my knees in before I have to stop. I was right. It is cold. Inch my inch I lower myself in, stopping at intervals to make faces at the ladies in my class. Part of me is running away from the pool at top speed even as another part is impatiently demanding I get on with it. I quiet my shallow end foot hopping to stare at the other end of the pool. I look at it, look at the water. I carefully put my face in the water and look up towards my goal again. Then I push off.

It takes me four lengths for my body to accept reality. Then the amazement begins. My body gliding through, up and around the water. The feel of it, soft and silky against my skin. Bubbles. Weightless and graceful, this is where I began and where I was meant to be. It always surprises me how good the water makes me feel. How it never fails to draw out my childlike nature. For the next hour I play. Marveling at what I can do, attempting to do what I cannot. I end with my muscles spent, breathless and alive. What was I complaining about?

But my absolute favorite part comes next. Water of a different nature. The hot shower.