Study leave has rolled around again, meaning endless days of pretending to revise, panicking the night before exams due to said non-revision, and somewhere between the two a little exercise, in the meagre hope that it will help prepare me for supposed bikini wearing on holiday.
I'm pretty sure I complained about it last year, but after today's experience I felt compelled to compile the following:
TOP 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT GOING SWIMMING*
*other than the actual swimming itself, which is a given
1. Swimming costumes
I am not the most physically confident of people. Although this situation has improved hugely over the past six months or so, there is still a very large part of me that does not want my barely-concealed body on show, the lycra clinging unforgivably to every curve and contour. I think in the 1800s or something, when families went to stay in a hut at the seaside for the weekend for their grand Summer holiday, women used to just roll up their bloomers when dabbling in the sea; it may not help from a streamlining point of view, but sometimes I wish we could just go back to that.
2. Necessary body maintenance for wearing said swimming costume
Does this require an explanation? No, no it doesn't.
3. The lockers
The scrabbling around in one's pocket in the hope of finding a pound coin, only to discover you left it at home that morning and therefore have to beg your mother to borrow one of hers. The attempts to find a locker whose key is firmly attached to the wristband, so it doesn't wriggle free in the pool and inadvertently stab the person in front. Finding a wristband that remains tight around one's wrist, so it doesn't come undone halfway along the pool, leading to an embarrassing dive to the murky depths in order to retrieve it.
4. The lifeguard
Who does he think he is, sitting in his Chair of Glory? Sitting smug in his lofty position, surveying his watery kingdom with a smug, mocking smile... I say his, because never in my recollection has there been a girl in that almighty position. He never has to do anything, because generally people who choose to swim in lanes for an hour are fairly assured of not drowning. Linking back to complaint No.1, I'm pretty sure that all that he can do to pass the time is watch the various swimmers in the pool and rate their bodies out of ten. Because I know that's what I'd do if I were him. I'm a bad person.
5. The frequently shitty music
OK, that may be a little harsh. While some of the music they play may not be shitty as such, it just isn't appropriate for exercise. I'm not asking for some club dance remixes, but I want music which is at least pretending to be lively; something to help get the adrenaline going and hopefully distract me from the horror I am inflicting on myself. Damien Rice: pleasant enough, but when swimming I'd prefer something a little less catatonic.
6. The pool water
Because God knows how many other people have been in the pool already that morning, and whether they meant to or not, spat in it, snotted in it and probably pissed in it.
7. Chlorine: the smell
As soon as one walks into the sports centre, one is engulfed by the choking stench of it. And it doesn't stop there; I shower as soon as I get home from the pool, and yet up to three showers later I can still smell the bloody stuff all over me. Even when using Boots 'The Spa' shower gel, which contains microcapsules apparently bursting with fragrance and skin-cleansing goodness, the smell of chlorine lingers forever on.
8. Chlorine: the burning
Some may consider it cheating to mention chlorine twice. I, however, feel that as the chemical is probably the product of none other than Satan himself, it deserves all the abuse I can throw at it. I don't know whether the chlorine concentration in the pool I use is particularly strong, or whether my eyes are just rubbish, but whenever I go swimming there, my eyes feel like they're on fire for the rest of the day. Last year this happened in one of two ways: firstly, without eye drops, my eyes would be blurry the whole time and every 15mins or so they'd start streaming, accompanied by intense pain. Secondly, with eyedrops, my eyes would clear but the pain would be dull and inisistent. Right now, I just have blurry eyes with mild stinging, but I'm sure after subsequent sessions I will be howling.
9. The other swimmers
I hate the middle-aged men and women that can swim faster and better than me. I hate the girls there my own age (who, granted, are very few and far between) whose perfectly muscled and toned bodies laugh at my own wobbly one. I hate having to share a lane with too many people, as I have to time when to kick off the side so as to avoid either accidentally molesting the person in front, or else being molested by the person behind me. I hate the fear of seeing someone I once knew and would rather forget, such as my English teacher from Year 5. I hate it when my mother sees someone she once knew and then conducts a shouted conversation with them across the lane so everyone in the whole pool can hear. My mother has no boundaries, and as my ears are underwater most of the time I am in no position to check what she is saying; therefore, when I surface for a quick breath and all I hear is 'that's Alice over there!' my brain immediately goes into overdrive, imagining what excruciating detail about me she has felt fit to inform everyone in the room.
10. The location
The sports centre is conveniently found on the same site as the sixth form of the local upper school. So, stumbling out of the double doors, hair soaked and bedraggled, nose and eyes streaming, still struggling for breath, there's a large gathering of boys and girls on their lunchbreak to watch me fall sideways into the car. What a wonderful end to an hour of pain and hardship.
So if I seem a little grumpy after an hour at the pool, now you know why.
1. Swimming costumes
I am not the most physically confident of people. Although this situation has improved hugely over the past six months or so, there is still a very large part of me that does not want my barely-concealed body on show, the lycra clinging unforgivably to every curve and contour. I think in the 1800s or something, when families went to stay in a hut at the seaside for the weekend for their grand Summer holiday, women used to just roll up their bloomers when dabbling in the sea; it may not help from a streamlining point of view, but sometimes I wish we could just go back to that.
2. Necessary body maintenance for wearing said swimming costume
Does this require an explanation? No, no it doesn't.
3. The lockers
The scrabbling around in one's pocket in the hope of finding a pound coin, only to discover you left it at home that morning and therefore have to beg your mother to borrow one of hers. The attempts to find a locker whose key is firmly attached to the wristband, so it doesn't wriggle free in the pool and inadvertently stab the person in front. Finding a wristband that remains tight around one's wrist, so it doesn't come undone halfway along the pool, leading to an embarrassing dive to the murky depths in order to retrieve it.
4. The lifeguard
Who does he think he is, sitting in his Chair of Glory? Sitting smug in his lofty position, surveying his watery kingdom with a smug, mocking smile... I say his, because never in my recollection has there been a girl in that almighty position. He never has to do anything, because generally people who choose to swim in lanes for an hour are fairly assured of not drowning. Linking back to complaint No.1, I'm pretty sure that all that he can do to pass the time is watch the various swimmers in the pool and rate their bodies out of ten. Because I know that's what I'd do if I were him. I'm a bad person.
5. The frequently shitty music
OK, that may be a little harsh. While some of the music they play may not be shitty as such, it just isn't appropriate for exercise. I'm not asking for some club dance remixes, but I want music which is at least pretending to be lively; something to help get the adrenaline going and hopefully distract me from the horror I am inflicting on myself. Damien Rice: pleasant enough, but when swimming I'd prefer something a little less catatonic.
6. The pool water
Because God knows how many other people have been in the pool already that morning, and whether they meant to or not, spat in it, snotted in it and probably pissed in it.
7. Chlorine: the smell
As soon as one walks into the sports centre, one is engulfed by the choking stench of it. And it doesn't stop there; I shower as soon as I get home from the pool, and yet up to three showers later I can still smell the bloody stuff all over me. Even when using Boots 'The Spa' shower gel, which contains microcapsules apparently bursting with fragrance and skin-cleansing goodness, the smell of chlorine lingers forever on.
8. Chlorine: the burning
Some may consider it cheating to mention chlorine twice. I, however, feel that as the chemical is probably the product of none other than Satan himself, it deserves all the abuse I can throw at it. I don't know whether the chlorine concentration in the pool I use is particularly strong, or whether my eyes are just rubbish, but whenever I go swimming there, my eyes feel like they're on fire for the rest of the day. Last year this happened in one of two ways: firstly, without eye drops, my eyes would be blurry the whole time and every 15mins or so they'd start streaming, accompanied by intense pain. Secondly, with eyedrops, my eyes would clear but the pain would be dull and inisistent. Right now, I just have blurry eyes with mild stinging, but I'm sure after subsequent sessions I will be howling.
9. The other swimmers
I hate the middle-aged men and women that can swim faster and better than me. I hate the girls there my own age (who, granted, are very few and far between) whose perfectly muscled and toned bodies laugh at my own wobbly one. I hate having to share a lane with too many people, as I have to time when to kick off the side so as to avoid either accidentally molesting the person in front, or else being molested by the person behind me. I hate the fear of seeing someone I once knew and would rather forget, such as my English teacher from Year 5. I hate it when my mother sees someone she once knew and then conducts a shouted conversation with them across the lane so everyone in the whole pool can hear. My mother has no boundaries, and as my ears are underwater most of the time I am in no position to check what she is saying; therefore, when I surface for a quick breath and all I hear is 'that's Alice over there!' my brain immediately goes into overdrive, imagining what excruciating detail about me she has felt fit to inform everyone in the room.
10. The location
The sports centre is conveniently found on the same site as the sixth form of the local upper school. So, stumbling out of the double doors, hair soaked and bedraggled, nose and eyes streaming, still struggling for breath, there's a large gathering of boys and girls on their lunchbreak to watch me fall sideways into the car. What a wonderful end to an hour of pain and hardship.
So if I seem a little grumpy after an hour at the pool, now you know why.
posted by Alice @ 1:53 PM
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