Why do all the lifeguards at my local swimming pool look like pre-pubescent twelve year olds? I was shocked to discover that if I started to drown after an attack of cramp, my life would be totally in the hands of someone who doesn?t look old enough to blow his own nose without assistance, let alone perform complicated lifesaving procedures. Nonetheless, because I had been lamenting my expanding waistline, this is a risk I decided to take when someone suggested that swimming is a gentle, relaxing way to get fit. Gentle and relaxing sounded just like the kind of exercise I could manage. I was in for a shock.
Let me start this account of my experience with the receptionist. An unsmiling lady, she obviously felt that anything above taking my money and pushing a ticket in my general direction was outside of her remit. Being helpful was certainly not on her list of key duties. When I enquired about lockers, she informed me that I would need a pound coin, and that she was terribly sorry but she didn?t have any to spare. As she watched me rooting fruitlessly through my purse for the appropriate coinage, she did finally smile, conveying a depth of insincerity rarely seen outside of government level politics.
Ten minutes later, having finally located a slightly sticky, fluff encrusted pound coin on the floor of my car, I head to the changing rooms. They smelt. Horrible. However, the pong wasn?t the only problem; the changing rooms were also draughty to the point of freezing. So, I shiver out of my clothes, tiptoe around the piles of sodden tissue and nests of wet hair on the floor and stuff all my things into a locker. Big mistake. After inserting my money and wrestling with the key for about ten minutes it finally dawns on me that this particular locker in out of order. So I move to another locker, jam all my things in, only to discover that this too is inoperable. Several attempts later I finally find a locker that works and then make my way to the pool for a refreshing and invigorating swim.
Invigorating is certainly one word for it (hypothermia might be another). It would appear that the pool is several degrees below freezing, however, I have come this far so I decide to try a few energetic lengths before I lose a limb to frost bite, or possibly the will to live. As I swim, I try not to focus too closely on the detritus in the water. Why are there always at least 2 plasters floating around in any swimming pool I have ever visited, not to mention disintegrating lumps of cotton wool? And why do they always follow me?
Despite all of this, I finally start to enjoy myself, pounding up and down, trying to concentrate on keeping count of my lengths and avoiding collisions. The latter is not as easy as you may imagine, as I am sharing the pool with a gaggle of glamorous and immaculately coiffed, thirty-something ladies. They insist on swimming three and four abreast and end up taking up two thirds of the pool space. And then rather akin to Sunday drivers, they proceed to swim at snails pace (if snails could swim). This wouldn?t be quite so maddening if their lack of speed was due to fragile health or declining years. But they swim in this formation and at this pace for two reasons only. Firstly, to ensure that their make up and hair is in no way impaired by contact with the water. And secondly, to enable them to keep each other bang up to date with the latest gossip. As I perform an enormous arc in the water to skirt around them I am treated to snippets of, ?well our Keith said to our Donna?..? and ?my Roger?s not what he was?. So intent are they on not missing a morsel of this fascinating commentary, that their bodies are almost vertical in the water because they are swimming so slowly. Just as I am getting into my stride (or should that be stroke), they stop altogether, forming an impenetrable island of bodies, into which I crash unceremoniously. After much profuse apologising (from me) and much tutting and huffing (from them), I set off on the long journey around them again, surreptitiously looking for a gap in the pool elsewhere. And then, wonderfully, they retire for a while to the side of the pool in order to discuss Janice, and the messy operation she?s just had ?down below?, and I get to swim a few lengths without incident. No sooner do I decide it is safe to try out my back stroke (navigation being a little difficult when travelling backwards and facing the ceiling) they veer wildly back into the pool, still chatting away merrily. As I am unable to see them, and they aren?t looking where they?re going I again crash into them, with a much amplified action replay of the previous episode.
At this point, I decide that I have had just about as much healthy exercise as I can stand for one day and get out to head for the showers. I am just collecting my towel and shampoo from the side of the pool when I am knocked sideways by what felt like a speeding train. When I regain my balance and check out what nearly overturned me, I find that the gaggle of glamorous ladies, in a suddenly discovered burst of speed, are hurrying to the changing rooms ahead of me. Needless to say, when I arrive at the showers, they are all occupied. So, I get to stand and shiver, achieving a previously undiscovered level of goose bumps per square inch, all the while being entertained by more fascinating glimpses into the lives of ?our Keith and our Donna?. I do become rather interested at one point, as one of the ladies starts to bemoan her weight problem. ?I just can?t understand it, I come swimming twice a week without fail, but the weight just won?t shift?. I have to stuff my towel into my mouth to prevent myself from calling out over the cubicle, ?You?d burn off more calories lying down and eating a cream cake, the rate you swim,? but I manage restraint. Finally, when the whole shower area is ankle deep in sudsy water and afloat with little rafts of hair, they all vacate at once, leaving me to attempt to regain a normal body temperature with the little hot water that?s left.
And so, as I head home, defeated, exhausted, wet, and cold, not to mention the best part of a fiver worse off, my advice to you is this: if you?re interested in doing a bit more exercise in an attempt to get fit, or taking up a relaxing hobby to help you unwind ? try a black belt in tai kwon do.