Once again, I’ve been humbled. I don’t mean in the intellectual sort of way, as most of us students are used to (thank you, Dr. Wilson). I mean in athletics, in the swimming pool at my gym.
Last week I woke up early to go swim some laps, and had just finished with my 500 yard warm-up when a pale, middle-aged, heavyset gentleman was looking for a swim lane to join. Unfortunately for him all the swim lanes were full, and no one seemed to want him to join.
I felt bad for the lane orphan — he had his white swim cap on, a large build covered in thick body hair, and a big round belly reminiscent of a pregnant woman in her second trimester. His small black Speedo was a stark contrast to his pasty abdomen. He looked like the kid in gym class who had been picked last, and the team who was left with him saw him as more of a burden than a contributor.
Feeling altruistic, perhaps just a smidge haughty, I invited him to share my lane. He gladly accepted, and pluckily plopped into my part of the pool as I began my main set of laps: fifteen 50-yard lengths on a one minute time interval, which for me is an intense fifteen minutes.
So I start out strong, pulling and kicking, back and forth from one end of the pool back to the other with ten seconds of downtime between laps. It was hard for me, but doable.
The Orphan, on the other hand was incredible. He looked like a miniature beluga whale wearing a Speedo, covered in hair, and with a beer belly instead of a dorsal ridge. I have never seen such a large mass glide so gracefully through water. I was astounded.
As I thrashed through a few more laps, I gawked at his hydrodynamic poise, wondering how he could sashay with such a divine elegance through the water.
His flip-turns at the end of each 25-yard length made him look like a roly-poly that curled into a ball, and exploded in the other direction with a conflagration of speed and agility.
It was beautiful. For a moment I jokingly worried my goggles would began filling up with tears. I didn’t know if they’d be tears of envy, or tears of shame as he continued to lap me in my own lane while I fired on all cylinders.
I laughed to myself. All of a sudden the tables had turned completely. Now I was the last one picked for gym class and this hairy amphibious beluga-sapien was swimming laps around me.
I finished my workout and wallowed back to the showers in defeat.
As I pace Nutrition-degree-in-hand toward a UNR-free life, I am subtly reminded that in this world, I still have a lot to learn.
Beluga-man was a talented swimmer and he could probably teach me a thing or two about my flip-turns. So next time I see him, I’ll have to ask.
Either that or maybe I’ll harpoon him. Bastard.
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