Breathing Underwater

When I was barely a a year old (if even), my father decided it was time I learned to swim. So he threw me in the pool. And something magical happened: that's the day I became a fish. You could not get me out of the water.

Summers were spent up the street at my aunt and uncle's house, which had a gianormous pool. 12 feet deep with a diving board. I had perpetually pruney skin. There's a reason I had short hair for those formative years. Curly hair and swimming don't mix well.

Come high school, I avoided the run-of-the-mill PE classes by trying out for the swim team. I spent 2 years on the JV team. I wasn't the strongest swimmer, but I could hold my own in the 100 meter freestyle.

But it's been 13 years since I swam competitively. I got fat and lazy and grew my hair long. These don't make for fish-like behavior.

Until today. When I found myself with a free afternoon and a gym with an indoor pool. As much as I've always detested the stench of chlorine trapped within tile walls, my membership doesn't afford me an outdoor pool. So I made do.

And the fish busted out. I swam countless laps back and forth, loving the water. Counting the strokes between breaths. Forcing myself to hold it longer and farther down the lane.

I managed to go eight strokes--halfway down the lane--before coming back up for precious oxygen. There's nothing like a little light-headedness to keep you motivated.

I forgot both how hard it is to keep your form and how great it feels to slice through the water. With each stroke I was trying to keep my legs straight, making sure my arms swept underneath me properly and came up pinky first, parallel to the thigh. It's been so long, and yet it's just like riding a bike. Albeit, underwater and with foggy goggles.

Tomorrow, my obliques are going to ache like a bitch, my arms are going to feel like jello, my back and shoulders are going to be unhappy, and my thighs will probably protest every step.

It was truly the best workout I've had in ages.

I can feel the gills growing back.