Swimming with the Big Boys

It was quite a shock: there I was swimming along minding my own business, enjoying the freedom of a lane to myself, making rather satisfying progress without straining myself and, before I knew it, I felt a sudden change - I had arrived later than usual, and had swum into rush hour. The lane immediately felt crowded. I was joined by three other swimmers, all of who'd come straight from work. They got into the pool, and pushed off, bringing with them the stress and strain of their day and their journeys and, what had been a peaceful swim, suddenly felt like an open water challenge.

The splashing was incredible, transforming the environment into something quite unrecognisable. The first thing to go in such circumstances is my breathing, and I felt myself thrown out of sync, gasping at inopportune moments, and inhaling lungs full of water. Having been gliding along, inwardly rather pleased with my efficiency, I now felt as though I was swimming through a storm, with waves and tidal drag to contend with... As we ploughed up and down, I tried to regain my composure, and as they threw themselves up from one end of the pool to the other, pausing for breath every couple of lengths, I held my own and tried to re-establish something of a rhythm, but it wasn't to be... Along came an individual sporting a T shirt with the word 'Coach' and two A-board signs with the words 'Lessons in Progress'. I felt a lesson was well underway but I was not yet sure of my curriculum. The screaming started. I felt as though I was swimming in testosterone. Was this a lesson in tolerance? Was it an opportunity to practice patience? About 40 minutes in, having probably swum about 2k I decided it was time to call it a night. Sometimes there's virtue in knowing when it's time to get out. The pool will be there tomorrow...

Comments

Table. Apple. Penny.

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Glass half full? Glass half empty? Or perhaps the glass is broken

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The Reward is the Journey

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