Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
The water is chilly when you first jump in and it gives a mini-shock to your nervous system. But then the smooth, cool silkiness of the water has a soothing effect on tired muscles and an over-stressed mind. You can float along on your back unthinking and let all the worries, wonders, and injustices of life slide off of you. The only thing to see as you float along is the drab, grey concrete ceiling which has, perhaps unwillingly , been privy to many years' worth of exasperated, sputtering sighs and coughs of release from weary bodies seeking their escape.
You could just float on your back for forever, but that's not really what you came here to do. So you flip over at the wall, spread your arms out in front of you and start to glide. Stroke, stroke, stroke... At first you don't have to come up for air every third stroke because your heart isn't racing and your lungs aren't on fire yet. You watch the black line underneath you guide you on your way as your body slices through the lane, faster than you thought you were capable of going. It feels good to keep your face in the water. Refreshing. Eventually, though, your lungs beg for oxygen, and so the work begins.
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
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