Bathers – check.
Towel – check.
Kickboard – check.
Fins – check.
Goggles – check.
Swim pass – check.
Car keys – check.
Small child + accoutrements – check!
Right – all ready to go. Jump in the car. Drive to the pool. Find a park. Swipe in at the counter. Go find an empty lane. Dump my gear. Disrobe outer garments. Jump in pool.
Sigh… feel exhausted already! Strike out at a slow and stead pace bobbing along up and down, up and down. Fight the obsessive personality traits thing and try hard not to count the strokes because that’s just damn depressing. Do first two laps and feeling okay. Do another two laps and still feeling pretty good. Maybe this getting stronger plan is going to pay off dividends eventually.
Then, look over at the sleek, lithe, aquatic-looking creature in the lane beside me and come to a sad realisation… We look about the same age but I have to acknowledge that he is doing about four or five graceful and effortless laps to every one of my slow and laborious bobbing up and down laps! And I think to myself, ‘Mutter, mutter… got a fricken long way to go… and doesn’t even look like he’s out of breath!’
Then I see something out of the corner of my eye that goes a hell of a looong way to making me feel less inadequate and so entirely hopeless. Is that? Are those? Is that what I think it is? Why, yes… that tattoo on his chest is a depiction of the internationally recognisable Olympic rings logo. And then I notice the green and gold Aussie swimming cap and the speedos with “AUS” stamped firmly across the butt. And then I notice he’s not alone and is swimming with several other equally superb aquadynamic specimens, some of whom are also likewise bedecked in Aussie swimming caps and “AUS” speedos… oh, and is that another Olympic rings logo tattoo? Yep.
Well, suddenly I’m feeling a lot better about my lack of grace and prowess as I bob up and down up and down the lane barely managing to keep my head above water. I shouldn’t compare myself to these small god-like creatures who’ve been training in the pool for years… ‘Come and talk to me guys when you’ve been in pain for the last 20 years and can’t walk properly!’
By the time I finish my allotted laps for the afternoon, I am in a lot of pain and absolutely stuffed… and I’m well aware that I’ve done but a fraction of the distance, with a fraction of the technical proficiency of my fellow swimmers – by now they have all gotten out of the pool, changed poolside and are standing around in a huddle listening intently to a weatherworn looking gent who, given he was earlier barking incomprehensible numbers at them as they turned at the end of their laps, I assume must be their coach.
It is then that I notice that they’re all huddled around exactly where I left my towel and my clothes. 🙁 Now, I’m not one usually one for false modesty, and I’m not usually one known for being hideously self conscious nor do I usually get all wrapped up in negative thoughts about my body image. Thanks to four nasty car accidents and PCOS (which resulted in infertility, insulin resistance and multiple miscarriages)… My body and I have had, what I would characterise as an uneasy relationship, for many years. The body I have is nothing like that which I should prefer it to be. And I have often felt it has stymied me at ever turn, forever rising in revolt against me time and time again… In fact I consider my body to be somewhat of a traitor! It never lets me do what I want, it never turns the pain down to a dull roar, it never works properly at all! But all the same, you only get one, and this one is the one that I am stuck with, and my physical limitations have forced me to accept and recognise years ago that it’s physical appearance just is what it is. I’ve always been far more concerned with it’s complete lack of willingness to co-operate with me on the pain and the fertility thing that how it looks! So for the most part, meh, I accept the neat figure of my youth is long gone and take solace in being told I have ‘an awesome rack’. What are you going to do? *shrug*
BUT that said, there was no way in hell I was going to get out of that damn pool in my granny togs with their bust support and walk into the middle of that teeming pile of tanned, sleek, capable, healthy, muscular bodies! Nope. No way, no how. Just not gonna happen! So I did a couple more very slow laps and thought, they must be leaving soon. A couple more laps… argh starting to really feel serious acute pain in my shoulder girldle and am clenching my teeth here. And just as I reluctantly decide with a decidedly sinking feeling, that I’m going to have to walk in among that collection of super fit, fine athletic Olympic specimens to fetch my towel and get ready to go home… suddenly they disperse and leave.
Phew. Disaster averted. I wouldn’t have to display my blindingly white thighs and quasi-tuckshop arms to the Beautiful People after all. 🙂 And almost immediately, I felt rather sheepish and more than little bit silly at being relieved!