When I joined a gym a couple of months ago my intention was to go twice a week.. Sadly, I have not quite achieved that yet with most weeks having only one visit and some with none at all. This retirement lark is proving to be very busy and all sorts of other things have got in the way of my good intentions.
Only on one occasion have I used the swimming pool and that was when I took my granddaughter along so today, having a fully free day to myself, I decided to visit the gym and then use the pool. I grabbed a swimming costume and towel to add to my gym gear and headed off. The gym was quiet, as it usually is – it is one of the main reasons I joined this particular establishment, but there was also some serious exercising and weight lifting going on while I worked my way around the equipment. I have to say that I was pleasantly aware that I was beginning to acquire more stamina and flexibility in the short time I have been going even with patchy attendance.
I ended the session with the cross trainer and a brisk walk which left me fairly sweaty, then back to the changing room to get ready for a swim. This was where things took a slightly unexpected, or at least unforeseen, turn. Apart from taking my granddaughter to the pool as mentioned above I haven’t been swimming for probably ten years. I bought 3 swimsuits for a holiday in Aruba many years ago and they have lain unused in a drawer ever since. The swimming costume I grabbed this morning without thought or care, the smallest of the three was therefore…um…on the nippy side.
Swimsuits are stretchy, I thought, I will manage to get into it and maintain modesty surely. This thought process had failed to take into consideration the sweatiness of my larger-than-ten-years-ago body after my gym workout. It was a workout in itself to get all the relevant body parts into the costume. One I hadn’t anticipated and don’t really want to reprise. Note to self – do not use this costume again until there has been some shrinkage…in body, not swimsuit.
After a very pleasant and very slow six lengths I went to shower, the temperature of which was set to volcanic and no means of changing it to a more reasonable level. Thankfully another shower cubicle was available and I was ready to get out of the tighter-than-anticipated swimsuit while negotiating a very wet floor. This was when I remembered another problem with swimming pool changing rooms, the humidity. Trying to dry a wet body, in a humid environment, with a towel which has already fallen on the wet floor and get dressed into clothes that will not cooperate is a special level of hellishness. Trousers will inevitably drag on the wet floor while tops will stick to partially dried arms. My conclusion is that I shall begin to wear kaftans made of towelling and devil take the fashion police.
On returning home I took up position reclining on the chaise longue like a Victorian lady with the vapours. There is only so much activity I can manage in one day.
Significantly Different 