Indledning
They always make it harder to achieve results. Kielbasa Joe paddles his noodle1 up the fourth lane in a painfully slow crawl, the fluorescent pool lights making his flesh look blanched and sausage-like.
There’s no sense waiting for him; he’ll hog the lane for a full hour, noodling back and forth without a twinge of shame. Likewise, Doctor O.C.D.
Grumblestein is busy evenly spacing the lane markers along the rope of lane five, just like he always does, muttering the whole time, as though that qualifies as exercise; that’s probably a twenty-minute wait.
Which leaves Chatty Boners chatting up one of his AquaTramps in lanes two and three, and Wady Mary, doing her wady dance in the shallow end of lane one, the flotation belt cinched around her squishy belly propping up her sagging tits like beached jellyfish.
Optimer dit sprog - Læs vores guide og scor topkarakter
Uddrag
Thinking about it too much, though, will make her lose time and focus, and that’s not an option. The BeWell slogans are there on the wall to remind her, painted above the life preserver in the same bright orange hue: Focus on your Goal and Achieve Results. Be the Best Possible You.
This is not about other people. This is about fitness, and performance, and survival.
So: breathe in, go under and launch. Jetta fires forward, dolphin swimming for six seconds, feeling her insides starting to osmote3 with the water.
This is what she yearns for, this dissolution of boundaries, this neutralizing liquefaction. She kicks up toward the light and gets into her steady rhythm, stroke, stroke, breathe; stroke, stroke, breathe; legs straight and fluttering, palms cupped closed and pulling the water so she can feel the muscles work, trying to move with the sleek and fluid movement of a fish.
Once Jetta is away, there’s no stopping the motion, no pausing in the pursuit of her daily sixty: twenty front crawl, twenty back crawl, twenty butterfly.
She waits for the moment that she loves most of all, when she finds exactly the right velocity of breath, exhaling in the water to create tiny perfect bubbles, so that when she turns her head sideways her intake is expertly timed to coincide with the machinelike motion of her limbs, splash-burble-splash-burble-inspire. Inside and outside, working in concert.
Nothing existing except Jetta and the water. Only when she rears up to turn over for one of her nimble flips, does the poolroom come back to her, with its plastic couches and bleary skylights seeping grey filtered light.
But now that she’s become the water, she doesn’t need these things in order to see, to know. She can feel the ebb and flow of the swimmers as they vacate the pool
can feel the water calming as Kielbasa Joe stops his noodling and climbs out, feel serenity arise as Chatty Boners takes his pursuit of the red-headed pool nymph out into the sauna area. She loves it best when she has the pool all to herself, but it’s not so bad if Dr.
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