by Trina Read
A short piece on swimming…
I wake up and it’s snowing. It’s March. I also have a sore throat. These two circumstances combined don’t make for a good duo considering I earn my money from singing outside in the street. I think about what to do with myself and realise it’s been a long time since I went swimming.
I remember how enjoyable I find the sport; the feeling of gliding through the water, my hearing going fuzzy, drowning out the world. I book myself a spot on the next morning swim at my local leisure centre and make my way over (in a bit of a hurry).
I arrive at the leisure centre and realise I have forgotten to bring a towel, arguably an essential of a swimming trip. I think about buying one but decide I’ll deal with that problem when I’ve finished swimming. I also realise I have neglected to bring a hair tie and a hat. I ask at reception if they have any I could borrow and I get lent a velvet scrunchie and a too-small-for-my-head hat. After laughing at myself for being so forgetful, I get undressed. Luckily, I came dressed in my costume, so at least I didn’t forget that.
Since it’s been a while since I’ve swum, I put myself in the slow lane, sliding into the pool in what I think is a graceful manner. I start with a gentle breaststroke, and I’m relieved to find I remember exactly how to do it. My muscle memory snaps into action, and the swimming is effortless. The water is cool but not cold and I embrace the smell of chlorine. It seems I’ve still got it so I bump myself into the medium lane. I’m glad I came; I think to myself as I engulf myself in the water and my breathing becomes my only focus. I’m not worried about losing a day of work, I’m not worried about my upcoming MOT, or the fact I don’t have a towel to dry myself with.
I didn’t think I would last long, but I managed the whole 45 minutes. I climb up the stairs like I’m every hot girl in a movie getting out of a pool. I shower myself with water (I didn’t bring anything to wash with) and go to stand in a changing room and attempt to wipe the water off my body with my wrung-out costume. This technique is more successful than I imagined it would be and I am dressed in 5 minutes. Who needs a towel anyways.
I’m glad I came.
swim press 