Other Reasons for RUNNING

I didn't realize it had been so long since I had written anything in my blog...so I apologize to both of you for my long hiatus. Actually...since I work in the world of Academia, let's call it a "sabbatical."

So I was in the locker room the other day, fresh off my four-mile jaunt around the campus, and I'm visiting with a gentleman that has emerged from the pool. "You're a runner, aren't you," he says to me. "I see you running around campus a lot." I nodded in acknowledgment, since I find it uncomfortable talking to strangers when I'm wearing nothing but a towel. "I hate to run," he continues, "but I really enjoy swimming."

He had struck a nerve with me, and caused me to hearken back to one of my most embarrassing and miserable experiences of my adult life.

I guess it all started when I was a child. Being reared in a staunch, ultra-conservative Church of Christ home, I was raised with the understanding that water is to be used for three purposes. They are, in order: (1)Baptism, (2)Bathing, (3)Drinking. Notably absent from this list is swimming...especially swimming of the mixed variety (often referred to as mixed-bathing by parents to ensure that the sinfulness of this dreadful act receives the highest attention).

Long story short, it was the summer before my 8th grade before I learned to swim...and I only learned then as a fit of desperation - I jumped into my uncle's pool, and learned as a matter of life or death.

Fast forward 22 years. Working in the Office of Alumni Relations at ACU is a young man of significant athletic talent and ability who has taken up swimming as a form of exercise. Every day at lunch, while I would run or play basketball, he would swim scores of laps in the ACU pool. He would often encourage me to come with him, but I would decline citing my glaring lack of swimming skill. He told me not to worry - that there were other people with far less athletic talent than I who swam during lunch.

After weeks of encouragement, I finally decided to give it a go. I left the ol' running shoes in the bag in favor of a pair of swim trunks.

This should have been my first indication that I was in trouble...for the swim trunks that I brought were the kind that you wear while running around on the beach or while playing in the pool. They were not the sort of aerodynamic (or AQUAdynamic) swimwear that one wears while striving to swim laps in a pool.

But this does not phase me as I trot into the pool area wearing my maroon floral shorts. There are already folks in the pool, traversing the 25 meter distance with relative ease. Sitting off to the side looking completely disinterested is a young lady in shorts and a t-shirt (with the word LIFEGUARD) across the front. Beside her is a flotation device which looks as though it hasn't been used in years.

I remove my shirt and quickly jump into the pool (didn't want the poor girl to get ill!), and off I go! Since I don't have much experience swimming farther than a few feet at a time, I opt for the "put your head down and go" method. What the heck - breathing is overrated! I reach the end of the pool, grab the wall, and turn to look at the other end of the pool. To my shock it looks as though the distance has multiplied!

Unphased by this revelation I once again put my head into the water, take a good push-off from the wall and start heading back the other way. I'm approximately 2/3 of the way to the wall when my oxygen supply begins to run out. Having watched the summer Olympics my entire life, I feel confident that I know the breathing technique that world-class swimmers use. So I turn my head to one side, take a breath and return my head to the water. Unfortunately, I don't quite get my entire nose and mouth out of the water. In an instant I flew into a panic, coughing underwater while still flailing my arms and legs in an effort to get to the wall. Somehow I managed to reach the shallow end. I stood up to finish the gagging process and noticed that the lifeguard, who previously had been sitting back in a relaxed state, was now sitting at the edge of her chair...like she was watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

Paying her no mind, I began my second trip through the pull. This time, however, I opted for the "throw your head from side to side" method of breathing (I don't think that's the technical term for it). Halfway to the deep end it felt as though I was towing a small boat. My strength (or lack thereof) began to give out, so I stopped to tread water for a bit. While doing so, I noticed that the lifeguard was no longer sitting, but was standing beside her chair. Using this as motivation I stuck my head in the water and swam with all my might. Mercifully I reached the wall.

As I once again admired the distance I must travel to get back to the shallow end I looked around the pool...and everything had grown still. All of the swimmers had stopped where they were. It reminded me of a showdown in an old Western film. Two gunfighters meet in the middle of town to settle the score, and the townspeople turn out to watch the carnage unfold. And I felt like the gunfighter that everyone knew was going to catch a bullet.

Once again, I plunged beneath the chlorinated waves endeavoring to cover another 25 yards. But I could feel myself fighting the losing battle. I grabbed the rope that lines the lanes and looked up - I was barely halfway there. The lifeguard, once standing by her chair had now worked her way to the edge of the pool. I ventured forth again - legs kicking wildly; arms flailing against the water like a child playing Whack-A-Mole at Chuck E. Cheese. When I finally reached the shallow end I put my feet down and walked the rest of the way in.

I quickly exited the pool, wrapped myself in a towel, smiled and shrugged my shoulders at the once-again-seated lifeguard, went to the locker room, put on my running shoes, and headed out to a form of exercise that I feel much more comfortable with!