Poolside Confessions

The other day, when I finished a lap at the pool, I cleared out my goggles and confided in the lady in the lane next to mine. “You know, learning to breathe on both sides is really hard!” I blabbed through upcurled eyebrows. To that one confession, she donated the rest of her workout towards coaching my bumbling, barge-like freestyle into bilateral breathing, tilting my body upwards, so that I felt as if I were gliding across the water an hour later. I love her. I wish I could be that helpful to someone else. Well, beyond the normal butt-wiping and nose-wiping that comes with motherhood.

The first lap felt like swimming in a storm today: the water spraying from the sprinklers into my face, my nose, my mouth; the traffic of the experienced swimmers. I stabbed the water with my arms at first, struggling to remember her pointers: head down, tilt head only as high as the inside corner of my mouth, gentle roll left, right, left, right. Don’t think about getting air, just poof and it will return back automatically.

What I have discovered about swimming is that it may start out loud — the bubbles and splashing assault me when I first get in — but within a half hour, just like in running, everything gets really quiet. No music, no newscast– nothing but the roving tiles and dancing sunlight on the bottom and the steady rhythm of puffs and rolls.

edited to add, with an embarrassed blush:
HOLY CRAP! It’s (still, thank God) August 1st! Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!!! See you Friday 🙂
Love,
*s