Just Keep Swimming

Following on from last week’s blog, my number 1 priority over the last week has been me and making sure my heart gets a bit of TLC. This has taken a couple of forms…. Physical (lots of exercise) emotional (if you’ve not heard from me in the last week, there’s probably a reason for that J )

  The physical exercise has come in the form of “Lucy’s Bootcamp” I stupidly agreed to give my sister the password to my gym membership and apparently that now means she can book me in for all the exercise classes in the world ever.

So far in the last 7 days, we’ve done aqua Zumba (twice) yoga and just general swimming. In the next 7 days we are booked in for more yoga, body combat and spinning. I’ve also booked in to see the gym manager about changing my password.

  All joking aside, I’m glad Lucy has taken the form of my chief motivator, because in the last two weeks I’ve lost 5 pounds and I’ve really enjoyed myself. I’ve secretly enjoyed all the classes and I’ve really LOVED the swimming.

  Swimming formed a massive part of all my childhood activities, in fact I can’t remember a time that I couldn’t swim. My parents took me swimming from a young age, maybe they recognized that when you have a clumsy child, you have to do everything you can to protect that child from accidentally killing themselves!

Baby Katie

  Swimming was something we did after school, I loved my lessons with Mr Rowbottom. He was an ex army PT, who I think still thought he was coaching new army recruits. Having once seen me in my hometown of Kirkby, I was always referred to as “Kirkby” and my friend who once wore a swimsuit that had the word “splash” on it was forever known as “Splash”.

  Despite his yelling and making us dive over that long metal pole normally reserved for hooking drowning kids out of the pool, we all adored him. I think I always deliberately forgot my swimming hat so we could have the following conversation:

Swimming was something we did for birthdays….. swimming parties at Sutton baths, where adults and kids would pile into the pool and then head home for a bar-b-q.

  Swimming was what we did on holidays, playing in the Bournemouth sea, messing about on our beloved inflatable whale, which even though he now has a puncture still lives in my Dad’s garage because no one can bear to throw him away.

Swimming was something I did as a teenager with my friends. We got our Mums to drop us off at the new swimming pool with the water slide and the wave machine. We used our pocket money to go swimming and buy a can of pop and chips in the café afterwards.

  Swimming was something I stopped doing.

  Last week as me and my hideously lumpy bumpy body (which really shouldn’t be on display in public without a warning) got into the pool to do actual swimming. Not just stand there with a cocktail, which is what happens on holiday.

  As I pottled up and down the pool (I’m the swimming equivalent of a Sunday driver) I felt the tension start to leave my body, one length breast stroke, one length backstroke. Up and down.

  As I floated in the embryonic water, I felt the calmness and the peace flood my body. I didn’t care about my lumpy thighs or my a belly that would evoke the green eyed monster in Santa. I only cared about the water and the enjoyment it was giving me. 

   I could hear Mr Robottom bellowing “Kirkby”, I could hear the raucous laughter of Little Katie and Little Lucy as we fell off our inflatable killer whale into the cold sea and I remembered the sheer joy of our childhood parties and hanging out with my school friends.

  Even the angry swimming man in the next lane made me laugh as he aggressively splashed his way up and down recreating the wave machine of my teenage years. I hoped for his other half’s sake he didn’t do “everything” with as much aggression or as quickly!

  Maybe I’ll cancel my appointment with the gym manager and let Lucy keep booking me into classes at the gym!