I'm all about finding ways to exercise that don't involve a treadmill, so I decided to go to the noon lap swim and try some of what everybody calls "the best exercise ever". Let me preface this by saying that my Mom always used to say I swam like a rock. Meaning that, historically speaking, one could say I've always been a bad swimmer. But everybody (meaning doctor-types) say swimming is the best and I had vowed to try new things along with my students, so swimming I went.
My adventure started in the locker room as I tried to decide whether I should strip down and change out in the open, risking having a student or one of my coworkers see me naked, or hide in a bathroom stall. At the moment I had the locker room to myself so I just went for it and threw on my most practical bathing suit.Which happens to be a little retro-style, polka dotted number with a little ruffle around the skirt-like bottom.
Now came the business of actually swimming. I walked into the pool area, which seemed cavernous and empty. A lone, young lifeguard with floppy hair sits in a chair at the side, red floatation device at the ready. Seems like overkill for a single adult swimmer at lap time and I wonder if he has ever had to use it.
"Is the water cold? 'Cause I heard the pool here is freezing," I blather. I am feeling so self-conscious already and I haven't ever stuck a toe in the water.
"Nope, I just checked and it was 88 degrees," he replied.
"Oh, so kinda warm then," I said. And then I blurted out, "I suck at swimming." Smooth, Mara. Like he even cared.
I gingerly climb down the ladder into the pool. Immediately my skirt starts floating up around my midsection. Tugging it down, I began doing my own awkward version of breast stroke across the pool. I feel stupid doing lap after lap (OK, it was only two laps) of breaststroke so I switch to freestyle. I am a hulking, splashing behemoth churning slowly through the water. I am sure the lifeguard is watching me. Probably judging me. Or not, he seemed like a nice guy. When I finally tag the other side of the pool I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. How the heck did I do this for hours when I was a kid?
After only four or five laps I decide to take a break, floating on my back and then leaning against the wall. I do another lap. Another break. I look at the clock and it's only been ten minutes since I got here. I can't quit after ten minutes, I'll look like a wimp. I force myself to do another two laps and then I notice my eyes are burning a little bit. A perfectly reasonable excuse to get out of the pool.
Climbing out of the pool I look at the lifeguard and say, "Guess I shoulda brought goggles." I want him to know that I'm leaving because my eyes hurt, not because I am tired and embarrassed.
"Yeah," he says, "Probably would have helped."
As I stood in the dingy locker room shower, water pooling around my feet from a clogged drain, it occurred to me that what just happened is a perfect metaphor for my students. Trying new things is great, but if you don't prepare yourself with the right equipment and the right mindset you are setting yourself up for failure. You wouldn't try to learn basketball wearing flip-flops, or take a class without buying the textbook. So I'll give swimming another shot. But not until I get myself a pair of goggles and a bathing suit without a ruffle.
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