Swimmingly

Swimming can be really frustrating for me, since I've been working hard on it for about 10 years now. But sometimes I just really love it anyway. I was always in the water when I was little. We lived in Mobile and had a condo on the beach in Perdido Key. The thing that scared me most about the ocean was the jellyfish. I hated that stinging feeling that I'd inevitably have just about every time I went in the water. But riding the waves and bodysurfing made it worth it.

When I was 6, I learned to waterski. I was probably more scared of the deep, dark Sardis Lake water than the ocean. It's just so deep (like 250+ ft) and dark (some might call it murky). Once we moved to Memphis and waterskiing became a weekly event, and we started skiing in the smaller, much shallower Lower Lake, I became much more comfortable in lake water. It was never an issue of drowning, which is an impossibility while wearing a life jacket that's bigger than you are, it was the fear of the fish below me, that were also bigger than me, that would see my dangling feet as bait. See, they DO exist!



I'm even comfortable scuba diving at over 100 ft, on a wall that drops to 7000 ft just under me, or in the middle of a 50-shark feeding. In Vermont last summer, where Andrew swears there are no poisonous snakes and no human-sized catfish, but there IS some very dark water, I hyperventilated from not being able to see the bottom of the lake. Sometimes I don't even understand my neuroses.

But still I love swimming sometimes. No, not every day, but lots of days. Jenny is responsible for many of my swimming skills. One of the first lessons she taught me was how to swim to the side of a pool when someone drags you out over your head (against your will). That was a fun one that I always enjoyed. She really is responsible for teaching me to swim laps. When I was 15, Jenny was 18 and a regular at the Germantown Center pool. I started going with her to the workouts, which consisted of sitting on the side of the pool for at least 20 minutes while contemplating stroke mechanics (or something, I don't remember), making her laugh at my swim cap-induced look of surprise. I would finally start swimming behind her, never keeping up, but always remembering to breathe every 3rd stroke (I still thank you for that lesson!). After an exhausting 500-800 yard swim, we'd change and go home, with that warm accomplished feeling that you get even on cold winter days. You know what I'm talking about? It's different from the feeling you get after a run (sweaty, tired legs) or cycling (salty, stiff neck). And I love it. I got it today. It was a good swim.