I swim for my swimming teacher, Mrs. Anderson, at the old Deseret Gym. 1952-56. I can still do all the strokes, Mrs. Anderson.
I swim for my mother, who swam a strong breast stroke.
I swim for Erica and Chantell who got up early to swim that year.
I swim for Harrison who belonged to the swim team until he discovered drums.
I swim for Anne, who swims naturally like a dolphin, but doesn't know the formal strokes.
I swim for the Rian and Samantha in Pittsburgh who took swimming lessons in the summers.
I swim for my character, Jane Hamilton, who feels confined in walled swimming pools.
I swim for me.
Oh how I love this. I'm glad you have loved ones as well as yourself to swim for. I love the 'confined in walled swimming pools' idea. It's encouraging to see you braving your own way. I hope Jane finds her way too.
ReplyDeleteOh I loved that Deseret Gym.
ReplyDeleteYou are a superhero if you can swim butterfly. Even if you can't, I still think you're a superhero.
ReplyDeleteWorking at the Deseret Gym was my first job off the mission. I have fond memories of the place and am proud of the work I did for them and the friendships I made.
ReplyDeleteAs for swimming, I've got a pretty mean front crawl. Every time I go swimming, someone in the neighboring lane asks for tips, which feels pretty good. For me the trick is to lead with the elbows on the pull back. When I was swimming a lot, my initial approach was analogous to a rowboat. I'd dig the 'oars' deep into the water to pull myself along. It slowed me down. Now I think of it more in line with sculling - every move is to keep out of the way of a smooth glide along the surface where the "oars' skim the water with a light tread; guided by elbows.
I like the breast stroke fine. The back stroke is okay too as long as I have some kind of marker overhead to guide myself by, which makes outdoor backstroking problematic. There was a time when my butterfly was respectable. I think it would take some doing to get that stroke back into shape.