The Shallow End

I use to love swimming. I couldn't wait until spring came. My mom would take us to Saxon Woods to go swimming and we would spend all day there.

I was an athletic kid. I mean I was small(still am) and looked pretty breakable, but I made sure to let people know I could hang with the best of them.

I was called "speedy" in school because I was pretty fast runner. I played soccer, and kickball, baseball, I never really got into football, well except flag football, which I clearly dominate.

Speaking of flag football(sorry I just got a memory)...In junior high we played Flag football. And though there was a pretty good size time, I was had taken out most of the other teams players, that were now piled in the quarantine section waiting for one of the few players to come rescue them out. So this one kid tries to run past me, and I rip off his flag. The next thing I know, I'm pushed to the ground by some boy I have never seen before who was pissed that I was ripping off all the flags. I don't know why that popped in my mind.

Anyway.

Even though I loved all those things, swimming was my biggest hurdle yet most satisfying sport. It's something about being in the water. Maybe it's the first initial feel on the water against my skin. Maybe it's grazing the surface with my hand, or swimming endlessly under water like a dolphin that makes it so refreshing. Whatever it is, the feeling encompassed me today and I had this sudden urge to jump in.

The feeling came mainly when I worked out today. WHO KNEW!! It wasn't even on my Starting Over list. Lose weight or tone up or eat healthy. Miles away from what I wished to accomplish. But I recently notice that I hide behind things. Even though the weather is getting a little better, I still wear layers and layers of clothes. I bare no skin, I make sure no one sees me. So when Kay asked me to go to the gym with her(I still have to be nice, I am leaving on a trip with her in a couple of days) I actually wanted to go. I like working out. I mean I don't do it often, but maybe remembering how much pride I took in being athletic and competitive when I was younger, I figure it maybe something I want back.

I honestly do believe the body is a temple, but not in the religious sort of "don't give your goods away to every guy or girl who passes your way". I think that each body is beautiful in it's own way. The human form has to be man's first realization that something can be created and shaped out of a strong foundation. Oh, there are many cases of people taking it to far, but I think the real beauty in the body's form, is that the body can be sculpted to fit what we aspire to be.

I guess Kay wasn't expecting much out of me, when we got to the gym. I guess she also doesn't know how energetic I am. I did some weird machine for 20 whole minutes. And then the rowing machinefor 10. Kay wanted to stop. I figured I could have went on. My gym teacher once said that I over exert myself when I work out( he was really hott, and I must write about the time he accidentally touched my boobs. It was embarrassing and he could never look at me straight again), we had to wear these monitors near our heart that measured our heart rate. He made me sit down several times, concerned that I was working my body too hard.

So I have since learned that even though I feel like I can go forever, I must stop to rest. Of course that was before I saw the pool...

It was waiting for me. The childhood me rushed forward and I wanted nothing more than to jump in. Of course I didn't have a bathing suit. Kay brought me one of her's to wear, but it was bikini-ish which isn't my style. (So I'm going to buy board shorts and a top later). I had to suppress every urge of jumping in the water with my gym clothes on.

Water in general just soothes me. Even at the pool, sitting on the edge, feet dangling, listening to the other swimmer slicing the water, I was put at ease. I guess swimming is the only thing I don't try to hold back from. Jumping in feet first. Pushing against the pressure of the water. Leaving behind the strains of whatever makes me sad, with each stroke. It's therapeutic.

It's very symbolic for life. The pool and the ocean seem so vast and large. It's terrifying because it holds endless depth for me to get lost. At first I tentatively put me feet in, testing my own strength of breaking the surface, but once I am comfortable with it, once that overwhelming feeling of swallowing me whole melts away, I am able to go in feet first.

And I swim underneath, afraid of how long I can go without wanting to return to the surface. But I continue on. I glide through the water, I even open my eyes, not to look back anymore and see what I've done, but forward and seeing what could be done when I reach the end. The end promises me safety. The end promises me that I can resurface and look back at what I overcame to get there.

But the end always leaves opportunity to began again.

To now dive in head first into overcoming a new challenge.

I guess it's what I need. To remember the endless possibilities of closing and opening doors.

I guess I need to just stop being afraid of jumping in.