Lap Swim (A Deep Post At Last, If Underwater Counts)

Last night I was swimming laps at the Y. This is part of my new commitment to exercise (to keep me healthy) to weight loss (to keep me a hot mama rather than a dumpy mama) and to personal time even while Brian is away in GA (to keep me sane so that my children will live to tell the story of the summer of '05).

The first thing I noticed was that all three lanes were occupied which meant that I would have to swim in close proximity to another person. Gasp. It's weird how territorial we get about our workout space, neh? I also noted that all three lap lanes were occupied by slow and lazy swimmers. While I am far from a competitive swimmer, I at least get down to business and swim during my allotted swim time. These people were swimming slowly (strolling really, swolling?) and taking long contemplative (couldn't be catching their breath, really) breaks at the end of each pass. C'mon people...Get in one lane for slow sloppy swimming 'cuz I need to tear things up (snort)!

So I chose the lane with the slowest swimmer, hoping to scare them out of my way, and discovered it was a kid. He was probably about 13 or so and clearly just killing time. He would dive deep at each turn and peruse the pool bottom and stopped frequently to adjust his goggles. Astonishingly, rather than responding internally by thinking, "move child or I will cut you!" I tried to follow his example. I didn't slow my pace of workout but I tried to recapture that feeling of childhood.

Think of those idyllic summer days that drifted by while you dangled your feet in the lake or read a book flopped on your bed with absolutely no thought of what you would do next or what needed to be done. A child's casual reverie and complacent ability to think of nothing and worry about nothing is such an amazing talent. This youngster had no concerns about getting in shape or having a little alone time. He was just playing in the water. Sigh. I am so jealous. So, this is my new YMCA goal: Just Have Fun In The Water (And Get a Tight Ass to Boot!)

And by the way, my "lifeguard": was about 5 years older than Gabe, I swear! (Okay, he was probably actually a manly 16 years. But still. A child. I'm old.)