March roared in like a lion bringing record breaking temperature thru much of the state and I took advantage of the high temps to take my first swim of the year. As I’d invited a couple of the grandkids to go along, I went during visitors’ swim hours and found lots of young uns accompanying their grandparents, splashing around and having a good time. Amid the laughter, I did my 20 minutes, wrapped myself in a towel and headed to the car.
This week the temperatures are back to their normal low 70s, but as soon as the clouds passed over yesterday, I was off to the pool. And even tho I’d invited the youngest grandson to go with, he opted out, but I still found myself at the pool during visitors' swim time. Happily, though, this time I found myself alone.
I’m lucky to have two pools here, one is heated and one is not, and the unheated one doesn’t warm up until well into August in my mind, so I pretty much stick to the heated one and this was no exception. The only other folks were taking some sun near the water of the colder pool, which was separated from me by a concrete patio and a big storage box where the pool cover for “my” pool is kept. Thus, I couldn’t really see the older gent and the young woman was facing the other direction. Life, I thought to myself, really doesn’t get any better.
The water was clean. Last week, it hadn’t looked as nice and I’d fought with lots of bees for space in the deeper end. I explain to the creatures who invade us here that I don’t mind sharing space, but this is mine and that – somewhere, almost anywhere else - is theirs. But this week, the bees must have been busy elsewhere because I didn’t see a one.
One lap walking, one lap jogging, and yet another actually swimming. First the breast stroke, then the side stroke, and finally lazily the back stroke. Seriously, is there anything better that floating in warm water basking in the warm sun of a late spring morning?
As a beach person, I suppose there really is something better, but the water in the Pacific didn’t get the memo from the sun that it’s been hotter than hell on the ground, so it still feels frigid. So, for now, the heated pool. Thank you.
A few stretches at the wall, some more lazy laps – punch the arms down, swing them from side to side – get this full body thing going. And then the glorious lazy lap on my back. Wishing the pool was longer, although I think it’s regulation size, I could have floated on forever.
Not once did I think about my grueling schedule at work. Not once did I think about my impossible retirement situation. Not once did I think about my crazy ass husband and what he might be up to. I just let my mind drift along with my body and we sank ever so slightly into the womb of water.
After my 20 minutes, I admitted that I wasn’t even beginning to feel tired, so I opted for 5 minutes more. After 25 minutes, I decided to go for a half hour. And I was loving every minute. How could this be called exercise? How could this divine sensation actually be good for you?
OK! 30+ minutes, let’s get out. And I reluctantly floated over to the stairs and pulled myself out of the water, walked over to the lawn chair where I’d left my towel and wrapped it around me noticing as I did that the older fellow had moved into the shade off to my left.
A few minutes earlier, I had heard a loud splash and thought that either he or the young woman had decided to take a dip, but he looked dry and the woman was still prone face down. Putting on my glasses, I saw that we did have a guest and I said so to the older fellow. He didn’t hear me. He’s probably a bit hard of hearing. Many people are in this old folks community where I live. So, raised my voice and said again, “It looks like we have a guest.”
“Oh, you mean the duck?”
“Yes.” I replied although I wasn’t altogether sure it was a duck. We have a lot of bird species here on this bluff near the ocean and rabbits by the ton and coyotes in packs, but I’d never seen any ducks before. Hmmm.
“Well, he visited with you first, but as you ignored him, he left and went into the other pool.”
I looked again wishing I'd had my camera as he went gliding past the 8 foot marker. “Oh." I answered thinking that I hadn't even had to explain to him that this is my space.