I’ve been swimming a lot. I’ve also been writing in my journal a lot. You know, that weird papery bound thing? And then you use that pointy inky thing to make words which in theory convey your inner thoughts? Yeah that thing! I’ve been doing that a lot! So I’ve been neglecting this thing. This interwebs bloggy thing. Not that I’d share half of what I write in my journal on this, though I’m sure 99% of the people that read this know EVERYTHING ANYWAY. Ad nauseam. Poor souls.
Right, so I’ve been swimming. I joined the JCC last autumn with the intention of swimming all the time. But that lasted, oh, a month maybe, at best. Once I’m in the pool it’s great, but I find it excessively difficult to actually drag myself to the pool, especially as the pool is filled with babies most nights until 8pm (and we ALL know how I feel about being in the same body of water as something wearing a diaper… NOT GOOD is how). But this time round I’ve been doing really well at the whole dragging part. Though it may seem counter-intuitive, I find the cold weather helpful. I like bundling up, swimming, lying in the sauna, and then bundling up again to walk home. It’s all a very warm and fuzzy experience, and once I add in my ipod and the ever so pleasurable act of chugging 500ml of chocolate milk through a too-tiny straw, it becomes a blissful one. I sort of float down Bloor Street, cupping my carton of chocolate milk, listening to whatever song way too loudly. It’s the thoughts of this endorphin fueled stroll that often get me to move my ass out of my cushy papasan chair and to the pool.
The swimming is supremely enjoyable as well. It turns out I’m a pretty good swimmer, which I already knew. And nothing gives me more delight than to be able to out pace a cute boy. Seriously. This beardy one totally high-tailed it when I showed him I was clearly awesome, and he was a lame but handsome sissy baby. Or the pool was really crowded and he got fed up. Whichever. Either way, I’ve been getting into a pretty good routine. I’m up to fifty lengths right now, and I’m actually pushing myself to do more and more instead of coasting along. I’m pretty pleased with my efforts. I can also check out the cute boys covertly under water. Yeah I just admitted that.
But actually keeping to my twice a week swimming schedule means I’ve been getting to know the regulars a little too well…
One evening in the pool a fight broke out in the slow lane. There are always the pool noodle ladies in the deep end of the slow lane. They bob around doing aqua fitness or something. This unfortunately means that the slow lane swimming people have trouble effectively using that lane and often move into the medium lane. Luckily I was in the fast lane that night. But basically there was a shouting match which the life guard had to break up. Seriously, a bunch of pool noodle ladies fighting with some old dude who was trying to swim laps. Apparently he shoved one of the noodle ladies. I dunno. The resolution unfortunately seems to be that the noodle ladies get to stay in the deep end close to the wall, while the slow swimmers swim around them. Most of the slow people, however, end up in the medium lane, and everyone else in the fast lane. So on busy days it’s quite brutal.
And wow are the slow people slow. I am continually shocked that the human body can move so slowly – face in water – without drowning. Anyway, after I finished my swim that night, I’m lying in the sauna, enjoying the heat, and all the pool noodle ladies come in naked and sit down SPREAD EAGLE in my face. There was cooter no matter where I looked.
And I was blocked in.
Cooter as far as the eye could see.
Old lady pool noodle cooter.
You get the point.
I’m all for being naked in the sauna, but ladies, keep your legs closed. Please. And then, on top of being subjected to an ocean of steamed cooter, unable to escape, I am forced to listen to the pool noodle ladies complain about how there’s not enough room for them to pool noodle around. And that they will be starting an email campaigne to get more pool noodling time, and narrowing the lengths lane swimming. And then the leader of the pool noodle ladies breaks out into “Non Je Ne Regrette Rien”. But in English. With all the wrong words. If I could have facepalmed without hitting cooter, I would have. But instead I sat ever so still, sweating in silence, knees together, towel draped appropriately, until the pool noodle ladies went on their way.
But I’m not giving up the sauna just because of a few cooters. Oh no sirree.
And those noodle ladies best not steal anymore more of the pool. If I’m ever going to be able to eat my goal of 12,000 calories a day like Michael Phelps, I need as much pool time as possible.