Hit the pool yesterday for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long. Months. Way too long! It's a YMCA facility and immaculate -- unlike the Ottawa city pool in which I swam: disgustingly filthy. Howard Hughes would never have dunked a warped toenailed toe into it. Muscles have no memory, as Claude, the longtime manager of the Ottawa Y pool, used to say. Found that out, but it felt so good to be back swimming. Swimming and writing are two things I am compelled to do. So went back this morning and here I am blogging about it.
They have the "slow / medium / fast" lane thing going, but with a twist: the lifeguards switch the signs depending upon the speed of the swimmers. So, I was repeatedly swum over by a very fast, agressive girl because I hadn't noticed they had renamed the "medium" lane to "fast". I probably should have been flattered at having been deemed acceptably deft and nimble for the fast lane, but I felt too slow, so ducked into the medium again, only to be too fast because all the "slow" people had moved there. What to do, what to do?! I will figure it out, eventually.
A word about street names in Calgary. I love them. Trails with names like "Shaganappi, Sarcee, Nose Hill, Crowchild, Deerfoot and Stoney". Then there's the "12 Mile Coulee" and the "Calf Robe", not to mention all the Indian names. Yes, Calgary is a frontier city. But so progressive in so many ways, with a woman premier, a woman leading the Wild Rose Party and a Muslim mayor.
Just love this place!
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