In my mind...

... I am not athletic. It seems to be something that got left out of my particular recipe. That's okay. I got my share of good stuff. But I am coordinated, I know because my personal trainer told me so when I was doing the gymrat thing, and I expect he knows that stuff better than I do. Probably lack of eptness at athletic endeavors is what keeps me from getting going, exercise-wise. Nevertheless, this brilliant idea I had to avail myself of the aquatic center just a long city block away (half a mile, I clocked it) has been a godsend. I pack up my Monet tote bag, gift from my mother, who is always on the lookout for artistic junk to give me, put in my underwear (I wear my suit there), my keys, glasses (so I can see to open and close my combination lock), towels, swim mask, teeny weeney hair dryer and brush, and head out the door. The locker room is always a shock, full of mothers with kiddies headed for the gigantic kiddie pool, no deeper than 3 feet, but I have learned not to step on any of them. After divesting myself of unneeded articles, I negotiate the lane process. Today, it took four trys to get one. My usual lane had 3 swimmers already (definitely getting there earlier tomorrow). The next choice was a "class lane", where rotund little people were doing something. Ditto the one after that, though I think that was the gossip lane, because I got into the one over from them, and those ladies never moved anything during my swim except their lips. Well, chacun a son gout. I shared my lane with a nonagenarian and his caretaker. Sweet little guy was ever so slowly floating up and down. No matter, I just kept doing my thing. And even though I was in shallow water, I swam as I always do in my deep lane, without resting. For 30 minutes. Okay, it's slow swimming, but it is also continous motion. After, I feel all stretched out. And I imagine I can feel the tone in my arms and legs. And even the fat bubbles that erupt out of my Speedo seem to be diminished. Gratitude oozes from every pore that I am not one of those in the other lane, who walk up and down, slooooooowly. Showering and skinning off my Speedo, I dress, blow dry, and walk the half mile home, to lunch on salad, and feel really virtuous. So, though I cannot skate or ski, I can swim, and that's something.