Swimming as a metaphor for life
So, I was in the pool today, doing laps again. I used to play water polo, and that was honestly the rockingest shape I’ve ever been in…6 pack abs, cut and toned arms, the works (it didn’t last!)
The only thing I can pretty much do until I have this ovarian cyst out is yoga and swimming. I can’t do anything jarring or hoppy, so this makes for a doughy Lisa.
So, there I was in the pool. It struck me that I was going to try to do as many laps as I could today…that odd voice that enters my head (like in the movie “A Very Long Engagement” with Audrey Tautou, who’s always doing the same thing…if I can reach the top stair before this or that happens, then that means this or that.)
I’ve done this since I was a little kid, so I found it amusing in the movie. Today, it said “however many laps I swim today is how many years I’ll get to live.”
Damnit, you stupid voice. Now I have to keep swimming.
It struck me how much like my life swimming is—the first 45 laps„ or years, if you will, are so hard. It seems like such an effort and you just want to get out of the pool. The next 20 are ok, you hit your stride or pace and you ease into it, you start enjoying yourself, you ease up a bit and start to relax. The next 20 or so are probably the most enjoyable—who cares how fast you’re going? you’re all loosened up and feeling good, you’re breathing well, and your stroke is going well, your mind is unwinding itself and you’re in your happy place. I see my life like this—til 45 it’s struggles, then for the next 20, I hit my pace and start to enjoy myself, the last 20 are easy, almost serene. At least, I hope this will be true…one never knows.
Today, I stopped at 100. The pool isn’t a 25 meter pool, otherwise, I’d know exactly how much distance I had traveled. I think it was over a mile, but who knows?
Still, who wants to live to be 100 or more? I hit the showers and thought about how life is a lot like swimming, only without the chlorine smell on your skin afterward.
