Swimmer

photo credits: Hall 3 pubs 2013

There used to be a time when I could swim fast enough to get a center-parting like that. Today, I swam for the first time this year and now I'm sitting here blogging because I can't get off the seat to do anything else. 

Swimming was my first love - in fact, I met my first two crushes as a 10-year old while swimming 6 hours a day in my condo's pool. I had a further 3 crushes at my swim club and 2 or so that I would get to see at major swim meets. I drifted a lot. Still, my love was for swimming itself.

I loved being in the water; when I first started learning to swim, I would stay two more hours after practice to perfect what I had learnt. I would borrow boards and buoys to repeat the drills to make sure I got everything down before the next class. At my best, I had near flawless technique but unfortunately never had the strength nor big palms and feet to match. 

I found joy in the repetition, in the monotony and only the sound of gushing waters in my ears. I found joy in the control and the perfection that I could strive towards with every stroke I took. Swimming contributed a lot towards some of the things I eventually became good at - my dance has benefited from my awareness and ability to isolate body parts, my efficient running form and rhythm was adopted from swimming and I can recall the rushing sound of water to block off everything else to think (yes pretty good at that).

The process of going from swimmer to swammer was a cruel one. Time was precious, my running was taking me places swimming never could and others had placed priorities on me that I didn't rebel against. I broke up with competitive swimming when I was 15 and had no time to pursue it recreationally. It was cruel because it wasn't painful. I simply declared myself retired.

IHG gave me an opportunity to swim again. I gladly went avatar mode and channeled teenage me to break out the old breastroke. It definitely wasn't the same, but again I took time, got sharp, and did myself proud.

I'm recognized that I am no longer a swammer. Once a swimmer, always one; even if I stop doing it from time to time, because I still love it whenever I take the plunge. 

Yep. Enough strength to do laundry now.