Courtesy: Maggie Ashley
0 yards – Well, it’s 11:00 a.m. and my customer-facing job has faced one too many customers already. Time to stare at a line of tile for the next 30 minutes to encourage my mental acuity to return from its hidey hole.
2 yards – Well, that water certainly felt colder than it had any right to.
25 yards – Joints are a little creaky today. What’s to blame? The cold weather outside? Perimenopause? My soul is dead after that last Teams call and freezing me from within? My complete disregard for stretching before and after my swims since the early 2010’s? No, couldn’t be that last one.
150 yards – New neighbor in lane 3: Grandma Rose. Not that Rose is her actual name, but she’s serving in that textured, flowery swim cap, so Rose it is. Looks like there’s a new perm under said cap, meaning breaststroke kick on the noodle for Rose today. Doesn’t give me much to draft off of, but at least I’ll smoke her. Small victories.
325 yards – Um, is the lifeguard eating a burrito? Is that safe? If my goggles get foggy and I smash my head into the wall on the next flip turn, will he choose retrieving my limp and lifeless body over that chorizo-and-queso-filled-rolled-up perfection? Ooh, I can smell it. I don’t like my odds. I must wipe the fog off my goggles at the next wall for safety.
500 yards – You know, this is the clearest I’ve felt my sinuses all week. Though, I’m 98% sure some mucus just shot out of my nose during that last underwater. The chlorine will take care of that, right? Good thing Grandma Rose is breaststroking it up on the other end of the pool at the moment. I’d hate to be uncouth.
625 yards – Oh crap, I never replied to Miranda’s email about using the conference room for the Steering Committee for the Spring Institute for the Study of Post-Colonial Reptiles in the Inner Amazon. I must do that when I get back. Miranda’s a pretentious fraud, but the reptiles are counting on me!
825 yards – Midway upon the journey of this swim, and feeling pretty good. Come to think of it, I’m also midway upon the journey of my life. Do we call 37 middle-aged? Is the midpoint the climax? Should I have achieved more? Done more? Does my life even matter? I can see the ripples I’m creating with my slightly too narrow hand entry (fix that!). Am I making any ripples in reality? Would the world even notice if I was gone today? If I crash into this wall and drown due to burrito guard’s negligence, will anyone know? Will anyone care? I guess my cat will. Everyone else in the house forgets to feed him.
1000 yards – New neighbor alert in lane 5! He’s the captain of the university’s swim team and sporting his swim cap from his high school Zone meet. Very humble of him not to wear this year’s national championship meet cap. HE remembers dynamic stretching before jumping in. He also remembers not to breathe into the wall before his flip turns. Show off. Here’s someone I can get some good drafting off of…as soon as I catch up to him.
1225 yards – Well, I think that was 1225 yards. It’s possible I’m already at 1275 and forgot to register it off that last wall. Serves me right for getting distracted by drafting a professional yet sassy email in my head to Miranda. I need a non-combative way of reminding her that while I understand the potential for emotional harm that could be inflicted on the reptiles at the conference, we cannot support uncaged lizards in the building, even at the risk of re-traumatizing them back to their pre-free-range lives. Crap, was that 1250 or 1300? Must focus back on the black tile line of sanity.
1400 yards – It’s smooth sailing now that I’ve placed myself in Joe College’s wake to draft off of him. These last 250 yards are going to be a piece of…Wait, he’s switching to breaststroke?!?! Not cool. But maybe I’ll stand a chance of getting ahead of him now? Dream big.
1650 yards – Swim is done, and I’m happily cooling down on the wall. Though I’d be happier if I weren’t fighting off the ever-recurring post-partum urge to pee in the pool following physical exertion. After all, I’m standing next to Grandma Rose as we stretch and kvetch about the weather, and it wouldn’t do to be so uncouth.
ABOUT MAGGIE ASHLEY
Maggie Ashley is a former competitive swimmer and USA Swim Coach turned AAU swim league board member and dry land training consultant. She lives in Western North Carolina and is Board President for the Jackson County Swim Team. She enjoys long swims in lane 5 of her local pool, and cheering too loudly at her daughter’s swim meets.
Thanks Maggie,
I definitely going to try drafting now. Always feels like turbulence to me.
I love this 😆😆😆 I find the earlier in the swim, the sassier my head-emails are, and by the end, they’re something I could actually send! Also the casual analyzing of every other swimmer is so relatable.
Great article! I can relate…
😂
I enjoyed this. Thanks.
I started swimming again this past year and I can relate to a lot of this, the rest was just funny!
You can never cheer too loudly! It’s inspiring to us all. Emails and counting at the same time? Very ambitious of you!