Really Just A Sibling Revenge Plot?

So believe it or not, I’m teaching myself to swim. I don’t want to be among the statistics of black Americans who can’t swim. Though it seems like all of my friends and kin know how to swim (except my two best friends, funny enough), it’s a proven fact that a tragically high percentage of African Americans cannot swim and the consequences have been about as grave as you can imagine. I’ve vacationed in places where I had access to beautiful beaches and pools, and my fear of the water reached such a point where I wouldn’t even step into it. I’d either stay in the sand or on a beach chair, only dipping in a bit if I became really hot and sweaty under the harsh sun. Knowing that I’d be moving into a building that has a pool, and that swimming can be a great addition to my exercise regimen, I put forth the goal of learning how to swim, by any means. I’d previously dedicated myself to seeking lessons, but that will require energy (and money) that I’d rather put somewhere else. I COULD just wait until I’m up to it, but this pool keeps taunting me every time I Iook down from my window or go to the gym, so I decided to just give it a go myself.

The other reason I decided to teach myself to swim, the main reason, is that I felt like I could. Once, a few years back in the Dominican Republic, I asked my wife (a trained lifeguard in another life) a bunch of questions regarding the mechanics of swimming, and then I gave it a try in an empty pool. I was successful in swimming a few meters at a time. I was encouraged and thought I was on to something. Subsequent visits to the pool (I’m in no way ready to take on the beach, even though I prefer it) proved otherwise. If there were a certain amount of people, I didn’t want to look like a lame that could barely move a few of his body lengths through the water without major encouragement from his spouse. At home, I didn’t have pool access and as someone who can’t swim and has had bad experiences in public pools, that was never an option (although I did take youth on a few trips to the pool during some of the jobs I had in the summer; I would just supervise, dipping in occasionally). One time in the Poconos during a family trip, my younger brother, who is a good swimmer, splashed the living hell outta me, then gleefully swam away. I was furious and helpless. I’ve probably never wished I could swim more than on that day. All I could do was dip his towel into the water so he’d have nothing to dry off with (what a wack revenge), and remind him that I was bigger than him and that no matter how long he thought he could remain in that pool, humans need air to breathe, his muscles would tire out and a land-based vengeance would eventually be mine.

For someone who doesn’t like to swim though, when I’ve felt comfortable in a pool, I’ve really enjoyed it. I’ve always kept that fact, and what I did in DR, in the back of my mind. I have a few things I want to accomplish to round myself out and swimming is one of them. So at the first opportunity I had in our current building’s pool, I watched my wife swim post-weightlifting,  and broke down the mechanics. Then I asked her many questions and made my attempt. Since the water wasn’t very deep (maybe mid-chest) and warm (it may be very hot in Doha, which means I should welcome a cold pool, but for some reason the cold water gives me an uncomfortable shock; at night, the water in the pool is just the right temperature for me), and I’m not bothered by holding my breath underwater, I felt at ease with the initial submergence. Mimicking her arm movements and doing God knows what with my legs, I knew at the very least I didn’t sink because I was horizontal but not touching the bottom. But I had no idea if I had gone anywhere or not. As I stood up and wiped the water out of eyes in an overdramatic fashion, I looked over at my wife to see how I’d done. She had a smile on her face and pointed to where I had started. I had definitely swam about a third (maybe a fourth) of the way from one side of the pool to the other width-wise. It was the most excited I’d been in a good while. Earlier attempts to floats were unsuccessful, and while I was on the verge of giving up (I figured that there was no way I was going to able to swim if I couldn’t float) on the endeavor altogether, I figured “I’m here, might as well not waste my time.” Actually, I said to myself “Don’t be a pussy. You won’t die. Swim.” Honestly. That’s what got me to swim. I then proceeded with about 15 straight attempts after that; 4 or 5 of them saw me pretty much flop my limbs around just to stay in the same spot, haha. But some were just grand.

I still haven’t figured out how to quite use my legs right, and I look INCREDIBLY awkward in the water, my God do I look awkward. But the little bit of swimming I’m doing right now is pure joy. I’m going to look at some videos and websites to teach myself further. I’m one of those people who learn best by observing, asking questions, attempting, asking more questions, repeat. I have a feeling that this method will only get me so far and eventually I’ll go for lessons. That’s cool with me. I’m up for it and kind of looking forward to it when the time is right. In the meantime, who knows how far I can go using the self-taught method? I want to be a superhero, previously because I thought it was boss, but now that I have thoughts of making a family, I want to be able to provide a heroic, fearless example for my child(ren), in the way that I always felt I had to for my students, but in a more detailed way. I want to be able to not only encourage them to be fearless but also provide the example. I have access to a world that I didn’t quite think I would when I was younger, and it’s opened up my mind. I have a lot of aspirations, to do a lot of things that people may consider “extreme,” that will require a very sound mind, body and soul. There are a lot of opportunities you don’t have growing up black in the inner city. Opportunities to interact with nature, different cultures, let your guard down, experience things without fear of being labeled, etc. You live among caged birds and the sad thing is that much of the time, the cage door isn’t locked, or even closed. So I guess what I’m doing now is swimming as flying. I’m discovering the freedom of being under the water (I’ll write about what that feels like in another blog) and I dig it. Next time my jerk brother tries another jerk pool move, he’s going to have something besides a soaked towel to worry about. Hmmm…maybe I shouldn’t have shared this and just set him up, played pool possum and surprised him. Whatever, he doesn’t read this blog anyway, haha!