I am an ocean lover, through and through. The warmer, the better.
I like pools. The warmer, the better. (Unless it’s because you couldn’t make it to the potty in time. Then, not so much.)
And then, there is a special spot in my heart that is reserved for all the things I tolerate.
Lakes. Lakes are there in that spot – right next to lizards.
And cold pools.
We have an ocean near-ish. We get there as often as we can, in the summer.
We also have a town pool. We get there as often as we can in the summer.
It’s mostly cold.
This Floridian still can’t muster up the courage to jump into our town pool before July 30th or after August 30th.
If you’re doing the math, that equals up to Not Much Pool-time.
During this thirty-one day stretch, I must continually remind myself that I chose to move to New England because, Boston! And because, Sweetman!
So, I was thrilled to find out that one of my sweet friends, who also happens to live in our neighborhood, is planning to have a beautiful new pool put into their backyard. It’s one of those super fan-cee salt water ones. It will have the standard stairs, to get into and out of, of course. But, the best part about this pool? It’s soon going to be heated. Oh, yes it is!
I’ve come to the conclusion that this is necessary for anyone who chooses to live above the Mason-Dixon line. Otherwise, you might just find yourself jumping into a pool that is barely pushing 65 degrees. Even if it is 98 degrees outside.
And people? That is just not right.
I should have taken a clue when I began teaching water-skiing in the Berkshires of Massachusetts some twenty-odd summers ago. That first crisp summer morning, when I jumped into the lake to begin instruction, it took less than 10 minutes for me to tag the other instructor because I was too cold to stay in. Plus, my foot touched something slimy.
No. Just… no.
Therefore, it might surprise you to learn that I was somehow convinced to become part of a three-woman relay team, as The Swimmer, in a local women’s triathlon sprint. Yes, you read that right. Come early September, this girl, right here, will be doing her darndest not to die as she competes in the swim portion of a women’s triathlon sprint.
“It’ll be so much fun,” they said. “You’ll have so much support,” they promised. “We’re not doing it to win,” they assured me.
The part they forgot to mention?
In the local lake.
Or town pool.
Neither of which are heated.
Oh, and…the race itself? In a lake.
I don’t have to wonder about what hell is like.
I think I’ll stick with my plans to go to heaven.
There will definitely be warm ocean water there.