Swimming is one of my favorite ways to workout. When I first began over twenty years ago I couldn’t make it five strokes without grabbing the wall for a breath. Now I can stroke for over a mile back and forth, flip turning wall to wall, without taking a break.
This week, while in the middle of a long swim set, an older man I’d never seen before swam past me. I had been enjoying the solitude of nobody else in the water, but as a frequent lapper I’m used to sharing, so I kept swimming.
Lap after lap, he inched closer to me every time we passed. I’m a big fan of personal space, so I moved closer to the lane line, but he just kept on scooting over. At one point, his stroking hand brushed my leg as I passed.
When I hit the wall, I popped up and looked around. Nobody else was in the pool but us. There was no reason for him to be practically on top of me. I slipped under the lane line and finished my laps in the next lane over. Even then he seemed to hug the lane line now between us.
All I know is I won’t be lapping at that time ever again.