Don't let this face fool you.
He kicked my butt at Lifetime Fitness last month. It was the last time I took Oliver swimming in the outdoor pool, and he was having a cranky day to begin with. A small part of me, the correct part of me, thought, just skip the pool, he's cranky, this could end up bad. But I didn't listen to my 5% self; I just wanted to go swimming. He did okay in the pool, though tried a few times to wriggle away without wearing floaties, a life jacket, or other harnessing contraption. When the whistle blew for the safety break, we went inside to the family locker room to get showered and dressed.
One of the perks of spending five thousand dollars a month to belong to Lifetime is that they have a pretty great set-up for their family locker room: they have individual shower rooms with dressing areas, separated from the rest of the locker room by a locked door. Oliver and I took our showers; once he was dry, he gave me a devilish look that I know too well, then reached for the door to turn and unlock it. Did I mention I was naked?
I was not pleased, but Oliver was furious with me for banning him from the doorknob. His cries turned to wails, which then turned to a screaming and kicking tantrum as I wrestled with his feet for no fewer than 10 minutes to shove his toes in his sandals. Before he threw them off again. My shower was now void, as I dripped with angry-stress sweat. When I finally had his feet enough in his shoes, I picked him up, still screaming, and opened the door from our shower cocoon. There was a mother with two children standing in line waiting for the room. "Fun, isn't it?," she said to me with a knowing smile, and then: "It's even better with two!" Awesome. Thanks, lady.
We went home, and we went to bed, which is always a good solution. I returned to the pool the next day...alone. I love swimming. I love love love love love swimming. My head underwater, I can't hear anyone calling for me. Nobody is needing me at that moment. The world around me is quiet. My body is powerful, feeling so much stronger than on land, where my steps shuffle and I sigh at the prospect of parking too far from the door. Swimming is meditation for me, and I often find myself matching strokes with prayers as I pull myself through the current. Elipticals and treadmills are okay, but they rarely give me a runner's high. But swimming, swimming makes endorphins dance about my head and body, and send me into the deepest, sweetest sleep I could ever dream of a few hours later. Swimming outside is even better, with the sun spilling all over the water; it's like diving into a Skittles commercial, surrounded by sparkly, rainbowy arches of waves. The week before Labor Day was the last time I swam outside; the sun was beginning to set, and I lapped up and down until I heard a whistle blow. Lifeguards began to stack the beach loungers, other swimmers took off their goggles, and I reached for the wall. I looked up the see a half-crescent moon in the warm, amethyst sky, and just like that, my season of outside swimming came to and end.
The outdoor pool may be closed and school supplies picked over, but we're not done with summer just yet. Last week, we explored parks, ate ice cream outside, went for walks with Ollie in the wagon, and went to the outdoor Target Book Festival.
Let no 65 + degree day go unexplored. Two is too great an age to miss out on anything.
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