Yet another Pool post

Water is a very expressive element and it has given its siren call to bring me back into its fold. When someone decides to go the Metallica way and decides that not caring for what people will say works best for them, it brings a certain kind of freedom that not many legit people get.

I am no Michael Phelps or Ian Thorpe but I like swimming and I no longer care that people I know will get to see me in a suit (which is a misnomer, since it doesn’t really ‘suit’ me in the conventional sense of the term) so I took the pool pass and decided to spend my summer usefully.

The first time back in the pool was like reincarnation- very dicey at first but it all comes back with a wonderful sense of blurring the gap, the time when you had stayed landlocked. This time was especially good because I was the only swimmer and made me feel like those filthy rich retired CEOs who have houses overlooking Central Park where Spanish nannies take their twins every evening. Oh yeah, two lifeguards who’s only mission was watching me (in case I decide to drown in 5 feet of water). A nice couple of kids, I felt, probably students from CMU, UPitt or Duquesne because they alternate between playing videogames on their phone and studying fat books.

I started off at 5 feet and the width of the already miniscule pool was a challenge to hold a single breath and cross. But I was relearning fast, before the end of 10 minutes I was able to hold breath and flit across. Then alternating every lap with backstroke and progressively increasing the depth, I finally reached the deepest part – 9 feet.
At that point, I realized that all fear of the water, breathing, depth and drowning had completely left me with even a slight trace of hesitation and sweet elation filled my thoughts.

Life is so simple when you are swimming on your back; all you can see is the endless sky and peacefully transitory clouds and all you think about is your breathing.
Freestyle is slightly less pretty, with a working pair of swimming goggles you can see all the dirt at the bottom of the pool in absolute clarity and if you suspect that you might be mildly obsessive compulsive then its better your eyes are closed.

So I waded, swam, floated, dived and played around for as long as I wanted and then I got out, the ugliness of life wafted in – I was sticky, feeling hot and breaking into angry red rashes. The allergy made sense when I recollected the state of cleanliness the bottom of the pool was in. But all the blotches aside, the best thing I ever did for myself lately has been to buy the pool pass.

The next pool post will be about mortgages and mutual funds, just for a change because I decided that any chance I get to flaunt my scholarly knowledge in Capital Markets, I must use.

Moral of the story: Water good, Land bad. No, no, just kidding…or am I?

Water sign,
Rain