We've established that I grew up in Alaska. And that I’m not crazy about hot weather. And that I don't try new things often. And that I'm black. All those things converge to support the fact that I don't swim. , I’ve been in Alaska since I was three and really, how many pools do you think we had there? I was not in the minority with my swimming aversion. I knew tons of people who couldn't swim, so much so that the Anchorage School District tried to make passing a swimming test a graduation requirement. Whatever. My non-swimming ass got my diploma without ever getting in a pool. Going along with the whole lover of cold Alaska thing, I just really don't like weather above 80 degrees. Obviously since I have moved from Alaska I have had to get used to summer highs in the 80s and beyond, but I am not a fan. Typically people who like hot weather hang out at the beach or pool and most of these people actually get in the water. But not me. I have a healthy respect for the water and we have an understanding....I don't get in water above mid thigh and water will not suck me into a watery and terrible death. This has worked for us. I never learned to swim when I was little and frankly I hate water in my face. I hate having water in my ears, even when I wash my hair. maybe it's because I have control issues and I freak out when I can't hear what is going on around me, I don't know, I just know that I avoid it at all costs. The idea of learning to swim at my age makes me wanna go back to Alaska where I can be a non-swimmer in peace. Plus, I don't know very many black people who swim. I used to be able to say "have you ever seen a black Olympic swimmer?" but Cullen Jones messed that up for me with his gold medal in the 400 meter freestyle relay. But I stick by my statement that black people aren't buoyant. We sink. For real, just sink right to the bottom. I’ve tried to float, but my big legs and butt just drag me down. And if you don't float it is kinda hard to swim. So see, I have plenty of good reasons why I don't swim. And we haven't even begun talking about the hair...
I can say with a fair amount of confidence that (most) black women's hair and water do not mix. Unless we are the in chair of a hairstylist, we DO NOT want our hair to get wet. Getting caught in the rain without an umbrella is cause for a meltdown so you can imagine what would happen after swimming. there is just way too much involved in getting it back to its presentable state after it gets wet...it takes way more that the blow dryer attached to the wall in the gym locker room. And if that is enough to keep my ass on dry land, I don't know what is.
But let's be reasonable, swimming is a skill everyone should have. I’ve talked about taking lessons for YEARS but never followed through (go figure!). But now that I am a mother and have a child who loves the water, it is pretty important that I know how to swim. I have these horrible images of Sammi in a pool and something going wrong and all I can do is look around and say "someone get her" because I can't swim to save my life let alone hers. That is not a scenario I want to experience, thank you very much. Plus sammi is learning to swim at school now which means come summertime, she will want to live at the pool. And I want to be able to be in there with her and not feel like I am going to drown if the water is over three and a half feet deep.
That said, I need to find someone to teach me to swim but NOT in a group setting. I need the person's undivided attention because I swear I could drown myself and my instructor too so he or she needs to only have me to worry about. And I think the instructor will have to be a man. Any woman I get will likely be smaller (read weaker) than me and then we are back to the I-will-take-her-down-with-me factor. Definitely a man. preferably one who could pick me up with ease just in case he has to fish my drowning body out of the pool (can you tell I have a lot of faith in my ability to conquer this swimming thing?). My friend Robin works at a fitness center and recommends one of her co-workers, as the perfect person to lead me to the land of the swimmers. She said he is laid back which is good because I will be an uptight mess and he will need to be able to calm me down. She told him about my project and he agreed to help so I sent him an email to set up my first lesson.
As the day for the lesson approaches, I begin to stress more and more about it. What if I get in the water and start flailing like I’m having a seizure as soon as water gets in my ears? This has been known to happen so it is a legitimate concern. AND WHAT ABOUT MY HAIR? This could be a major problem. I have got to get a swim cap to at least attempt to preserve the 'do, but I am not hopeful about its ability to keep my hair dry. Tell me again why I am doing this....
I arrive at Trihealth way early which leaves me plenty of time for my nerves to really get out of control. I’m sitting in the locker room in my new Speedo swimsuit (I wanted to look the part, even if it will be apparent once I hit the water that I am NOT a natural), swim cap in hand and heart in my throat. Unlike most other things, I do not have any delusions about this. It is going to be bad. Just how bad I am not sure, but definitely, definitely bad. I am praying that there aren't very many people in the pool so that I will not have many witnesses to this fiasco but when I walk out I see that is one prayer that was not answered. There are about 15 women in a water aerobics class in one end of the bigger pool along with a few others swimming laps and about ten people hanging around in the warm water pool, where the lesson will take place. Great. Fabulous. Wonderful. My very first swim lesson, which I am certain is going to be nothing short of disastrous, is going to have tons of witnesses. Good times.
I am lost in visions of my impending humiliation, Cedric, my instructor, walks up and introduces himself. He has a kickboard in one hand and something that looks like a long foam dumbbell in the other hand. I am not liking this looks of either of these. As we are exchanging pleasantries, Cedric begins to walk into the shallow end of the pool immediately fear grips my heart.
“Uh, wait a minute. Aren’t we gonna have any prep or anything?" I asked. I am sure the terror on my face is comical. I was hoping for some sort of a warm up, so explanation as to what the hell I would do once I got in the water, but not just diving right in. I’m not ready yet.
"Nope, we're getting right in. come on!" Cedric says smiling. Already I want to knock the smile off his face. Does he not know what he is in for? Does he not realize that the next thirty minutes is going to be pure hell? Clearly he doesn't or he would not be smiling like that.
I walked tentatively into the pool and am at least happy that the water is warm. Cedric immediately starts explaining how he wants me to hold the foam dumbbell out in front of me and "just kick" to the other end of the pool. He says it like it's easy. If it were that easy I’d probably know how to swim already! He assures me that he will be next to me holding me up that whole time. I try to explain my buoyancy problem but he just smiles again and hands me the foam thing.
I sincerely doubt that this foam thing is going to keep me afloat but I can't figure out how to stall any more so I grab it and go. And, just as I suspected, the bottom part of my body starts to sink as soon as I attempt to kick. Cedric keeps telling me to kick from my hips, to scissor my legs and kick hard. I kick as hard as I can and it seems to be getting better. About half way down the pool my legs start to burn and it occurs to me that this is going to be a workout. I did not even think about the fatigue factor. Damn my legs are tired and we are four minutes into the class!
I make it to the end of the pool and with only a few seconds of rest, we are turning around and heading back the other way. I am starting to get a feel for the kick motion but my legs feel as if I have twenty pound ankle weights on them. I am kicking but don't feel like I am going anywhere. We do this a few more times, and I am seriously winded. Then Cedric instructs me to put the foam thing across my chest, lay back onto him and kick. This is considerably easier that the other way. My legs are getting a little bit of a rest plus I get to catch my breath. So, of course, we don't do that part for very long. I practice kicking with the kick board as well and at times I think I get it and then I feel myself sink again. I will blame it on the fatigue. I have always prided myself on my strong legs, but they are jelly right now. I am thrilled when he says it time to practice the arm stroke until I realize that I am still going to have to kick. Shit. This is the longest thirty minutes of my life. And to think that I wanted an hour long lesson!
I put the arm stroke and kicking together and luckily I only have to go half the length of the pool. Cedric has his arm under my hips to help keep me up but I am pretty much doing it. I am too tired to be excited. Plus I am making it tons harder by trying to keep my head out of the water. I know Cedric will not let this silliness continue in my next lesson and I am going to, at some point, have to put my face in the water. But not today. We are done! I survived and think I did okay. Cedric congratulates me and says that I did much better than most of his adult new swimmers. I think he is blowing smoke and trying to make me feel good so I will come back for my next lesson, but I’ll take it. I’m proud of myself, proud that I got in the pool and even tried to do this. I really do want to learn, so I, my sensitive ears and my hair are going to have to make peace with the water. One lesson at a time.
For now lunch is calling my name. I head to the locker room praying that my swim cap worked. But I brought a hat, just in case!
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