Swimming upstream
I swam again this morning and while I sputtered and swallowed a little water, it was a vast improvement over Saturday's lackluster start.
After a couple of laps, I was gliding along with ease. I thought I was doing pretty well until a lithe woman in the next lane blasted past me as if I was standing still.
Only then did it dawn on me exactly how slow I am. And how much effort I seem to expend. And how I don't know how to do a turn as I close in on the wall. And how my kick needs work.
I've had these thoughts before. After my co-worker Calvin taught me a few years ago, I stepped away from the classes, always saying I would come back. But the description in this year's Cross Island Y's membership book stops me cold.
"Perfect your front crawl and back crawl. Learn to do a front dive and tread water. Introduction to some personal water safety skills, breaststroke kick and elementary back stroke."
The diving thing is out, no way, no how. Shoot, Calvin had to beg, borrow and plead just to get me to jump in from the side. And I only did that twice.
I don't care that I can swim, all I can see is that I am jumping off into nothingness.
So today, I asked Dennis, the friendly lifeguard, about the diving requirement. He said the instructor would be understanding, but I'm not so sure.
And until I find out, I will keep plodding along, one slightly crooked stroke after another.
-- Amanda Barrett
