Swimming

I am having swimming lessons.

I had my first one on Halloween. I was hoping that I’d be clear of the house before the hordes of ghouls and imps came knocking but they’d come and cleaned us out of our thirty-six mini packs of Skittles before I’d even got my cossie in the bag.

I gave the next lot my most sorry look, as I blew out the candles outside and took down the white apron ghost to ward off any indication that we might be an inviting household and then jumped into the car for the Concourse Swimming Baths in West Kirby. 

It’s a municipal pool and now that I’ve gone all posh and forked out loads of money for a private gym membership, it was a bit of a shock to see the utilitarian and slightly grubby changing rooms, and to step into really cold water. That was the reason I changed. Anne got very cold in our local council baths, so the Village gym gave her a chance to get fit in comfort and have more aqua-aerobics classes.

I can already swim, just about. I don’t remember having proper lessons other than the few that were offered in school, but I didn’t apply myself very well and it was only until my mate Paul taught me, when we were about eighteen or so, how to breathe with the breaststroke that I felt capable to keep going for a few lengths. 

I’ve never been able to do the front crawl though. That gliding effortless looking stroke (when done well) is beautiful to watch. When I’ve attempted it in the past, I look like I’m drowning, which is essentially what I’m doing as I have never been able to breathe without swallowing water.

Now, after only my third lesson, thanks to the wonderful Ruth, I can manage a full twenty-five metres (most of the time). You have no idea how chuffed I feel at this milestone. It’s very hard work still; I’m worn out by the end of the lane, but the fact that I can actually draw oxygen (without the added hydrogen) a few times without stopping is a mini miracle.

The lessons came about after I gegged in on a chance conversation that Mark and Ruth were having, during a Pensby Runners bookclub social evening. Mark is doing his first Ironman next year which at sixty something years of age is really inspiring. He’s a great runner and cyclist but wanted to improve his front crawl. Ruth used to teach swimming and offered her services. 

Ruth is the most wonderful teacher. Calm, observant, encouraging, and able to give the lessons in such a way that I can understand and do my best to follow. The fact that I can breathe already is testament to her skills. Who knew that going back to school would be so much fun!