Morning Swim

PARKER, CO

In the hour between the end of swim team practice and the beginning of the water aerobics class for seniors, the pool is blissfully quiet. I take the last of the empty lanes and slink into the water. The water is like bathwater, lacking the shock of a cold pool, but nauseating after a few laps. It is somewhat of a stretch to call the other lane occupants swimmers, for while they wear traditional bathing costumes and obviously are in a swimming pool, the movements they engage in are hardly considered any conventional swimming stroke. To my right, a woman holds onto a pool noodle walking slowly from one end of the pool to the other. To my left, a woman holds a kickboard but does nothing of the sort- her legs drag loosely behind her, and I can't discern exactly how she is being propelled through the water at all. I push off the wall, stretch my arms out in front of me, and complete my first lap, and when I stand to adjust my goggles, notice that the women in the adjacent lanes appear to be in exactly the same spot that I left them. I lick the insides of my goggles before replacing them, a somewhat bizarre habit I developed after reading that saliva can be an effective defogger. My usual slow and sloppy strokes seem remarkably efficient compared to the other swimmers in the pool today, and I smirk underwater at the absurdity of me being the fastest one in the pool. After  a few laps, I notice that another woman has joined the lane next to me. I don't see her at first, but rather taste her perfumed lotion in the water. I pull a little harder to put some distance between us, but unfortunately the heavily floral taste lingers in my mouth. Not long after, I notice the increase of water shoes in the shallow end, signaling the approaching start of the water aerobics class. Just before the music blares, I pull myself out of the pool, the sanctity of my morning workout now spoiled by 80's pop music.