the outdoor pool. myrtle beach, sc. feb 12, 2009.i'm back on the road again, this time in myrtle beach for the bi-lo marathon. as with my recent trip to miami, i am happily surprised to find i've got a little bit of "down time" (if only for a few more hours). unlike miami, there isn't much here that i'm inclined to run out to explore.
but there is the pool.
this morning, i put my suit and cap on, and my oh-so-glamorous tyr goggles, and spent an hour at the indoor pool (equal parts swimming and resting). i was alone. there was a giant tv begging to be turned on. but the sunlight was shimmering on the water and the silence was even more irresistible. the softly swishing water, and me. it was perfect.
my family (and friends who have known me a long time) would be rather amazed to find me swimming, because for a long time, i couldn't. i tried, but sank like a stone. it was so utterly unnatural to me to be in the water. for years, this was ok. but really, there are few things sadder than being on a beach or at a pool, and having to stay at the shallow end. nothing much fun happens in the shallow end.
last year, i decided it was time for a change. i enrolled in an adult swim class at a terrific facility on the upper east side, asphalt green. it was a beginner class, meeting twice a week. our instructor was a petite hispanic girl -- perhaps only 20 years old--with a grace and ease in the water that i hoped (beyond hope?) would rub off on me.
i should say that my mom was delighted but probably a bit annoyed that i had enrolled in a swim class, since when i was in the second grade, she invested the time and money in lessons for my sister and me at a good club in upper saddle river, nj (the "nice"part of nj). and the classes didn't take with either of us. in fact, i failed spectacularly! (that's a story for another day, over a beer, by the pool.) in my defense, i was at an age where i was old enough to be scared AND rebel at the notion of learning...but as with most things, when the time is right...
and it was finally right for me last year.
it only took a class or two for my teacher to realize that i wasn't a true beginner. we spoke about very specific things (why does my ass sink? should i be holding my breath here or not?) and it was great to have her point out small details about form (how in the backstroke, you shouldn't be jack-knifing your arm through the water, but sort of rotating your shoulder and then scooping and pushing the water away from you...how with freestyle you must think of elongating your stroke, dragging your fingertips across the water). i loved all the drills that she made us do. before long, she was applauding my form and i was doing the "demos" for the class. but there was still one thing i couldn't quite manage. relaxing.
i'd win the little races we had in class.
but i would be spent after one lap.
dizzy, even.
then i'd look over to the open lanes and see old men and women, lapping, flipping over, lapping some more, maybe 20 times.
how did they do it?
basically my teacher told me that i was kicking far too furiously. i needed to slow down. she gave me a few tips to think about, and counting drills to practice.
by the time the semester ended, i still had not mastered that idea.
but today, alone in the pool, it all sort of came together.
i could hear her instruction.
long, smooth breaths.
long, extended strokes.
slow, easy flutter kicks.
and i swam longer, and with more real peace and pleasure, than i ever have before.
i can't wait for more tomorrow.
