We're all adults now. Grown-ups doing grown-up things: getting married, paying bills, having babies, trying to make grown-up decisions instead of embracing the bad.
The sunlight catches the drops of water on my goggles and makes them shimmer different shades of gold. The water feels the same splashing in my face as I watch the lane line and try to swim straight. I'm slower now. I have a little fat that sticks out of my suit. My shoulders don't tolerate half as much.
I was reading an article on older athletes- in their 40's, 50's, 60's... and even 80's. It occurred to me that I was once a 20 year old- faster, slimmer, with a body that could take much more abuse. It also occurred to me that I will one day be 40. Then 60. Eventually (maybe) 80. Which actually means that I might have quite a few years left in me (should I be blessed to live into old age). I could be an amazing athlete at 60 years old. Maybe I will.
I will never be that 20 year old again. While I miss that young athleticism that's far more available to youth, I do not miss being that young. I would like to keep this mind and heart, but take my 20 year old body.
But you run marathons! , you might say. And yes. At 35, I am indeed young. But just old enough to realize what's behind me. And what's ahead of me- if I do it right. People wonder why I work out like I do. Pushing myself when I'm busy enough as it is.
Because one day I will be 80 years old. And I will never get to return to today. I will never be 35 again. Time moves in one direction, always forward. Today will be lost forever. This morning is already gone. Forever.
So I went to the gym this morning, then I went for a swim. I even did a little butterfly. And right now I'm not as fast as I used to be, but I'm stronger. I'm smarter. I'm a little wiser. And I'm far more patient. Being in the water takes me back to when I was younger. Half my age now. I still like to duck just under the water- exactly to the spot where the light reflecting off the bottom of the pool casts a mirror image of everything under the water. I look up and see the black line going down the middle of the lane. I still like to exhale with my mouth just slightly above the surface, and it makes a wet wooshing sound that reminds me of a walrus, or a dolphin surfacing and clearing out its blow hole. The lifeguard looks at me funny. Doesn't everyone do this? I thought we all did.
And I still poke my head up onto the deck to stare at my towel, and how far away it is, when it's time to get out. With fingers clinging to the edge of the pool, I contemplate how cold it is outside, and how cold I will get just waiting here, staring at my towel. I finally get out and get wrapped up, shivering from the cold, and stand in the sun as I dry off. I zip up my old parka (that still fits, because hey- it was always oversized) and feel the moist heat get trapped in against my torso. It is such a soothing feeling. The pungent smell of chlorine gets trapped there, and I smell it when I move.
I get taken back- for a few seconds, every once in awhile. It's gone, I know. But I'm here now, and I have things to do, and I'm not going to let these days just slip by. Because they too, will be gone one day, irrevocably. The water still soothes my body and blocks out the rest of the world when I dive under and silently swim to the other side, watching my shadow all the way.
