Today, at the age of 31, I get to say something very exciting.  I get to say words that so many children run off the camp bus to excitedly tell their moms.  They rush into the kitchen as their mom pulls cookies out of the oven and excitedly say,  “Today [Mom], on a day much like any other sunny July day, I managed to swim from one side of the YMCA pool to the other, using a freestyle stroke!”

 Did anyone’s mom actually BAKE COOKIES when they were at camp?  I’m pretty sure mine was either working or napping. (Heck, if it were my kids, I’d be drinking, so she’s aces in my book!)

 But, back to my triumphant sentence about getting from one side of a pool to the other, using my arms and legs to propel me while being underwater. Y’know.  Swimming.

I am fairly certain I have mentioned this before, but I was never a swimmer.  And by that, I don’t mean that I don’t like it. I mean I never DID it.  I think it started because I wore glasses at a young age and swimming meant not being able to see the other kids and whatever nonsense they were up to.  I signed up for other recreational activities instead and I avoided the whole pool concept. My family never pushed it. I used to think it might have been a “my people” thing, as we did spend 40 years or so  in the desert, but I now know far too many Jews who swim to believe that. I think it was just quite simply a skill I overlooked the importance of.

Once I started running and biking, I knew that not swimming was going to become a HUGE roadblock once I completed my half-marathon in September.  Triathlons are a very logical next step. (A marathon, while not entirely out of the question, is a long way away for me.) Panicked thoughts of how I would see in a pool to learn, or how I would find the right coach or not drown in the process filled my head instantly upon the thought.  But I took a deep breath and remembered to “wiggle my big toe¹”.  Everything kind of fell into place when I learned that I could order prescription swim goggles rather cheap, and met a very well known triathlon swim coach at the Y.

So, back to today, where I swam the whole length of the 25 yard pool.  Including the deep end.  Yup.  A whole 25 yards.

So, in my mind, this obviously means:

A)    I am only 32 more lengths (consecutively) away from being able to do a sprint Triathlon. I’ve got this by next spring.

B)    I think it’s possible that I can do anything.

Cept stop my dog from peeing on my floor.

But you know me, I don’t tend to get ahead of myself.

Ever.

 

¹You could insert the proverb, “The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With One Small Step”, but I prefer the Kill Bill reference.

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