He pays his five dollars and enters the pool area. He is
immediately hit by the stifling humidity which makes his first breath a bit
laborious. He circles the outer edge of the pool in search of an empty lane,
passing the children who occupy the outermost edge learning to swim for the first
time. He hears the laughter and splashes of water and smiles to himself. He
quickly regains his composure and the smile dissipates. After all, he is here
for business. He eyes the rest of the pool taking note of the other swimmers
performing flip turns and utilizing every swim stroke in the book. He knows he
cannot perform most of these water acrobatics but he is not concerned because he
is more than just a swimmer.
He spots an open lane and drops his towel, swim
cap, and goggles. He removes his shirt and shorts revealing a pair of running
shorts which would appear to be skimpy if he wasn’t surrounded by men in
speedos. He sits down at the edge of the pool letting his feet dangle in the
water as he dawns his swim cap and dips his goggles in the water. The lady in
the lane to the left performs another flip turn and motors her way back to the
other side of the pool almost mechanical… fluid but powerful. He looks to the
lane to the right of him where an older gentleman is leisurely doing the back stroke.
The man has no idea he is there. He puts on his goggles and submerges himself
into the water. The water encapsulates him like a film of liquid saran wrap and
he immediately feels at ease. Sound has now slowed as well as his movements; he
exhales and watches as the bubbles dance to the surface. His head emerges from
the water as he grabs the wall of the pool and plants his feet firmly against
it. Time to begin.
He lets go and his feet spring from the wall as he ducks his
head below water and dolphin kicks with a fury. He is like a thoroughbred out
of the gate at Belmont Stakes when the horn sounds. As his body comes closer to
the surface, parallel to the bottom of the pool, his right hand breaches the
water with a pop as the water sucks in the oxygen in the place where his hand
just left. His arm makes a tight arc above his right ear as his shoulders
rotate almost perpendicular to the bottom of the pool. His hand is poised as a
weapon as it pierces the water directly in front of him. Without thought his
left hand arm begins the same motion as his right arm fully extends in front of
him and his shoulders rotate in the opposite direction. As his left hand enters
his right hand grabs ahold of the water, like it’s a tangible object, and
propels him forward as his feet kick in sync with the movement of his arms. He
can feel it now, the streamline. That saran wrap feeling is now gone as he
effortlessly glides through the water stroke after stroke. He exhales and the
bubbles run from his mouth and nose in escape. As his right hand breaches the
water so does his face ever so slightly, just enough so his mouth can open to
suck in that pocket of air that his shoulder has provided. He feels his lungs
fill with that vital necessity and continues with his head down as if he were
swimming downhill; eyes fixated on the wide blue line beneath him keeping his
direction true.
He reaches the other side of the pool but doesn’t flip turn
because he doesn’t know how. He simply touches the wall, turns around, and
begins again. He finds his rhythm, and as he does his mind begins to wander
like the ripples of a pebble being thrown into a lake. The stresses of everyday
life don’t exist here underwater, they can’t penetrate it. It’s only him, the
lane line below him, and the water. His one hour of solitude has begun.
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