Starting this blog has brought me closer to my childhood friends, and so many of our conversations start with “remember when?” One of those conversations was “remember when we used to ‘swim’ in buckets of water?” And boy, do I!
A couple of years ago, I was invited to a 6 am swim and breakfast date, to which I foolishly said yes – things I apparently do when I’m head over heels for someone (or is it head over fins?). The culprit of this crazy invitation and I had been going on run dates, so this must have been a logical extension for him. But what I hadn’t told him was that I could barely swim. And I wasn’t about to let him find out now. I hustled and bought a swimsuit and goggles in the next couple of days, and met him bright eyed and terrified at the pool later in the week.
Our swim date was a roaring success, despite the fact that as soon as I saw the bottom of the pool drop away from me somewhere half-way I clung to the pool ropes, wondering if I would make it out alive. I shimmied along the lane line down to the deep end, clung on the edge of the pool, flipped onto my back, and as long as I couldn’t see the bottom, made it back to the shallow end without any problems. I swam a mean back crawl that day and promptly signed up for swim lessons after my date and I had breakfast.
Continue reading “Pack… A Swimsuit”
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