Barbara J. Hamby

Pool Talk

A few days ago, in the pool, a regular swimmer was there with two guests from England—her male cousin and a woman friend. While we were all paddling around the pool, I overheard a conversation among the three of them. Her friend asked why her husband had not come along with them. She said it was because he didn’t know whether her cousin was planning to swim and he didn’t want to come to the pool if not. The cousin said, “Yes, I was uncertain; my stomach is a bit tight.”

Great, I thought to myself, as I tried to remember if I’d heard about Swine flu in England. Too late anyway; so I finished my swim and exercises.

I didn’t get to the pool today until evening and, for the first time ever when I arrived at 8:00 p.m., there was quite a crowd there. Of the ten or so people, there was only one I’d ever seen before.
We all managed to weave around each other successfully and do our own thing. I spent my 40 minutes or so in the pool and then got my hot tub reward.

It seems like, three or four out of five times I go to the pool I have to talk myself into it. I always enjoy my time there and feel better when I get back, but I have to convince myself of all that almost every time. It would be so much easier to take a nap, read my book, watch TV, or play a game on Wii.

So I’ll probably go through that whole drill again tomorrow and try to get a swim in early in the day before we go off to a belated birthday celebration for Floyd.