a lap or so

April 16, 2008

I’ve always loved the water. I love the way that chlorine smells and the feeling my skin has when I finally pull myself onto the pool deck. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve gotten to swim, but today a friend and I ventured out to the new pool in a park nearby. Now, you should keep in mind that when we saw “new Olympic size pool” advertised, we were seriously expecting something akin to a wading pool, but for once Colombian advertising came through.

We walked down the hill toward the back of Bosque Popular and there, like an oasis of sorts, was ten lanes of crystal blue, chlorine filled heaven. We both changed quickly desperate to beat the ever impending rain and dove right in. The water was chilly at first, not unpleasantly so, but chilly and so much better than the bath water this guy, this girl, and I use to swim in at the good ole Turner Center. Now that I think about it, sweet Brent‘s still swimming there which is not funny at all. It really isn’t, Brent. I promise.

Moving on.

I was surprised at how easily it all came back. Stroke after stroke I pulled myself through the water, leaving the day’s messy desks and cluttered cubbies in my wake. Hands slicing through the water, my feet propelling me, the breathing easy and rhythmic. And somewhere between the first lap and 1,000 meters or so I realized that I wasn’t thinking at all. Just swimming. Length after length, weightless and free for awhile.

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