Pool Debacle

I went to the pool early today. I had gotten in most of my sales calls, I could take a lunch break, I figured I’d get the pool to myself in the early afternoon and spend the rest of the day doing emails and phone calls. Even when I drove by the club there were maybe thirty cars. And let’s be honest, ten of those were staff.

Know the secret to afternoon at the gym? It’s empty. Except the pool. There are four lanes and everyone thought, “Let’s hit up the pool.” When I arrived, I did laps in the current pool until a lane opened up. Some guy with a bunch of tattoos and no goggles. That’s how you know he’s a bad ass. He just opens his eyes as he glides through the water. Muscle upon muscle. Square jaw. I’m totally not jealous, nor did I glare at him as he walked to the hot tub, all nonchalant. Because you can’t. You have to sprint to the lane or you’ll lose it to some guy who just walked in. But mentally I totally did.

So I have my lane. But apparently in pool culture it’s cool to share. However, I do not share my workout space well. At all. Which is why I waited fifteen minutes for a lane that I would use for thirty minutes. Tops. Because I already worked out lightly for fifteen minutes.

Now, reasons I don’t share:

First, I do breast stroke, and I have a pretty good wingspan. Why don’t I do free style? Because I lack restraint. In two laps I’m puffing and huffing and those pigs are safe in the straw house because I can barely get enough air in my lungs to make a twig jiggle, let along fall over. This is why when running I use a treadmill. I can cap myself at five or six miles per hour. Otherwise I would just run as fast as I could for five minutes before someone found me dead on the side of the nature trail. Or at the very least they’d be wondering where my inhaler was and if I was asthmatic. I’m not. I just don’t comprehend my body has limits, and the longer I go without maintaining a good workout, the lower those limits get.

Second, I do not like sharing my workout space. When I workout, it is me, my demons, my desires, my goals, and my thoughts. That is it. I do not want someone else swimming next to me, brushing up against me, apologizing that we got a little too close. Even if she was attractive. Just, no.

So I no more than hop into my lane when a big guy comes up and asks if we can share. There was a lady two lanes over hugging the wall doing stuff. To the wall. Share her lane. I sighed, “Man, I do breast stroke,” ever say that out loud to someone? It sounds ridiculous. Because it was. “I use up the width.”

With a sigh, a huff, and a “Whatever,” he went to the next one over where the lady said, “I’m just doing one more lap and then I’m out anyway.” And then he did stretches. Really weird, I feel uncomfortable seeing you underwater, stretches.

I felt embarrassed, like I wasn’t fulfilling my contractual agreement with myself to love all people, including sharing my lane. Even if it feels creepy that two chubs are in the same lame when there was a 60 year old molesting the wall in lane one. So obviously I couldn’t do the leisurely breast stroke I so often do. I was swimming faster than anyone doing free style. That should not happen. But one was old and the other guy, chubs.

After going about 150m, a woman came up to my lane because I stopped to do some stretching. I never comprehend this. In most cases, people give me a wide berth. People are a little creeped out by me. But it never ever applies to certain things, like reading books in hotel lobbies or swimming laps. When I am doing something that is expressly “Do not talk to me, I’m busy,” people always feel a need to approach me.

Anyway, she was very attractive, but still. I just want my damned lane. My own lane. Meanwhile the old woman was still feeling up the wall. For the past thirty minutes. Maybe that’s the key. If I’d just hump the wall every time I reached an end, no one would ask, “Hey, can I use this lane?” But since I’m not old, I’d likely get escorted out.

“I’m done anyway,” I said, hopping out of the pool, unable to endure the shame of saying yes to her after telling the man no, and knowing that I had to show some sort of appreciation for mankind, to show that I’m not actually the selfish bastard I revealed myself to be. So I jumped out, which was good, because I forgot my boundaries. There were little speckles of black in my sight as I walked to shower off, and when I sat in my car, I could feel cramps all the way from my calves to my gluts. Or butt. Heh. Gluts are totally your butt. I’m like six. Leave me alone.

My arms hurt, my back tingles, my legs still ache. I’m still breathing hard and it’s been like three or four hours. I also learned a lesson. Wake up at 5:30am, or kiss your chance of a guaranteed lane goodbye. Unless I like sharing. And I do not.

Note: I totally wrote this yesterday, then closed my laptop to hunt down monsters. When I looked at what I had running this morning, this was up. So when I say “Today,” I mean “Yesterday.”

5 Comments on “Pool Debacle

  1. When I saw your title I was totally expecting you to say you’d lost your trunks. What was that you wrote? “I’m like six. Leave me alone.” Yeah, me too. 😉
    When I was doing laps at the pool … oh, a few years (25) ago … I did the breast stroke too. Like you, anything more inspired caused me to drop like a stone. 😛

    • Bahaha. I’m okay doing it, I just push way too hard. That and I start to get vertigo when doing freestyle. I’m glad we can be six together, Linda.

      • Yeah, I’m not sure if that’s lack of oxygen or too much. I know the feeling though. That and the black floaty spots.
        Wanna play doctor?
        …did I say that out loud? 😉

  2. I run alone…and I would swim alone. I HATE when people don’t give you your space. That’s cool if you like it when someone is a centimeter away, but no, leave me alone. I’m also annoyed when other runners don’t give you a space when running past you. So you’re not the only one dude and I straight up would tell someone I don’t like sharing and who cares if they think I’m a weirdo. Tell ’em you fart a lot.

    • Heh…so I can’t stop imagining me farting in the pool, with all those bubble floating to the top. Hehe…. But good to know 😛 With the running, that would super annoy me. All sweaty and crap.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Dragon Soul Press

Where Dreams Take Flight

EverywhereMan.me

I'm visiting each place in the song "I've Been Everywhere". This is my story.

Soraya Corcoran

Fantasy Writer and Cartographer

K. M. Carroll, Author

Fun, fantastical escapes

Anglorum

"Before the sea she stood, still as a statue but for the wind rippling in her loose lavender-grey dress and toying with her black hair - it billowed in the salty breath of the ocean like a flag of defiance."

SpyKeyOne

The gentle musings of a madman...

Author David Wiley

Author of science fiction and fantasy stories, choosing to write the stories that he would love to read.

Scribe's Canvas

a place for a little bit of everything

hijinksblog

Follow along with the hijinks of an emerging writer

Trials and Tribulations of Writing Fiction

A blog on the struggles of writing coupled with everyday life.

God Calling by Two Listeners

A classic daily devotional

Be the Beauty

My journey to being the beauty that lives inside my dreams...

R. Talsorian Games

We create worlds you can only imagine.

Rachael's Reads

LovintheLit

Mary J Melange

A hodgepodge of thoughts, ideas and the reality of life.

Natalie Breuer

Natalie. Writer. Photographer. Etc.

forthright Words

"Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar" - E.B. White

The Tiny World of Dinkleberg and Sparren

Learn skills, make money, be awesome

%d bloggers like this: