Sins of My Youth

It’s been a while since I’ve last swum.

There’s a country club equipped with an Olympic-sized pool nearby my place and by car, it would probably only take 5 minutes, tops. However, it also boasts having three outdoor tennis courts and as my sisters and I have been taking tennis lessons for a year or two now, playing tennis would be our natural option over swimming.

Still, the prospect of being submerged in a large pool of water was inviting especially with the sun beating down quite mercilessly of late. So Jenny –second younger sister and best friend- and I, waggled our eyebrows at each other, having the same thought.

One fine public holiday –our country has quite a few to spare-, we made it a family affair; an hour of badminton followed by another hour of swimming, or rather, lazing around in the pool, depending on how much energy we would have left by the end of the day.

After a good hour of strenuous activity on the badminton court, we headed to the pool, eager for our first dip in months, perhaps a year and more.

Once submerged in the water, I couldn’t wait to begin my laps. I recall having swum 10 laps once and only once, and that was eons ago; I also remember feeling tired halfway of the first lap, always. Much to my astonishment, I’d made it to the end of my second lap before the lactic acid’s effects on my muscles kicked in.

The authorities have always been tactful enough to allocate several lanes for lap swimmers, separating the rough-housing bunch from those who wanted an actual aquatic workout. I chuckled to myself –a few years ago I’d been contented to be on the other side, splashing around with my sisters without concern for exercise; now here I was, putting on my goggles, ready to lose some calories and get a good night’s sleep.

I enjoyed my time in the water thoroughly but due to time constrictions, only managed six laps before hitting the showers.

Upon entering the locker room, the chilly draft from the air conditioner assaulted my still wet skin, the sweet smell of shampoo and wood from the sauna room filled my senses as I avoided getting my toes trotted on by little screaming kids in lethal looking clogs. If I’d closed my eyes, it would feel just like when I was fourteen or so when I still paid frequent visits to the pool; the only difference being I lost some weight, the glasses and my utter dislike for those pesky running children, ha-ha, aging.

So that was that. Ah, memories.

And now, methinks I will be going swimming more often J