This is meant to be a faintly amusing post. Unlike the last ‘Lopsided’ though it hobbles along on much the same theme.
I have started journeying to the Commonwealth Pool – rebranded “The Commie” since I last used to go regularly – an Olympic-sized space, ideal for floating, stretching and generally larking about. At last I can swim in peace, without feeling in the way, without needing to excuse those who do not yet have the nautical equivalent of a driver’s licence. Learning to drive has taught me all about navigating aquatically, but lots of other swimmers don’t seem to think about this need, so in smaller pools, there is much battling for position, and many apologies. Here, in this vast space, there is room for everyone.
The “Commie” is two metres deep, and there are warning signs on the tiles: No non or weak swimmers beyond this point. What is a non? I wonder, flippantly. Getting in, therefore, suggests I am on my own, entering swirling eddies, deeps with danger. But there are places to hang at the side, ledges to rest the feet. It is fun, though I am sure that in a moment, I will discover a catch (apart from the underwater cameras). At the end of the swim, here it comes – getting out is harder than it used to be, when I happily lifted myself out at the side with my arms. These steps are deep, and the height I can lift a foot on any morning tends to vary, depending on several factors. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to the relative virtues of whichever foot or hand to use. Nowadays a chronically sore left shoulder, sore left hip, a sore right knee and a sore right foot give me pause: Once of each, blithely layering themselves over my ease, in their own, special way. That’s okay, but to have to stop so that I may weigh up which pain or lopsided jolt I would prefer is occasionally disconcerting.
There is bad news that depresses – this isn’t it! – and there is bad news that makes me do something. If I have to go swimming to keep myself moving, to keep warm and flexible, I will do that most willingly. I wish I could persuade my daughter to share my enthusiasm. Maybe today….it is a lovely day. Have a great weekend, and thanks for following, reading, commenting and enjoying.
Please share:
June 6, 2014 @ 11:59 am
What a thought provoking blog Fran, sounds like you’re battling your demons – one by one 🙂
June 6, 2014 @ 12:32 pm
I’m sure we do that together. Bless you! 🙂
June 6, 2014 @ 3:12 pm
Just possibly, you could demand a “reasonable adjustment” on disability discrimination grounds- a ladder with closer rungs, to help you get out, perhaps. They might have something like that, already.
June 6, 2014 @ 3:57 pm
That is a great idea, Clare, thank you! And handles that are less slippery would be helpful too. Lean on them, and we slide, which is unhelpful. 🙂
June 6, 2014 @ 5:12 pm
I love swimming, always have done and have used some wonderful pools, some dodgy pools and some absolutely wow I don’t believe I’m here pools. You should mention about the handles. Maybe they could put rubber around them or then again maybe you should just mention that a really gorgeous hunk of life guard, you know called Brad or Clark, you know – just in case you need someone to give you a hand!!!
June 6, 2014 @ 5:19 pm
Thanks, Diane. That sounds like a really great idea! LOL! 😀
June 6, 2014 @ 6:46 pm
A great pool! ‘Non’ btw, means people with feet on the bottom. Sorry, feet on the bottom of the pool.
It would be very interesting to rewrite this post as a writer fledging a story. All the imagery is there.
x
June 6, 2014 @ 9:51 pm
Thank you for your comment! Much appreciated. xx 😉