To fit enough movement into the working day of an eager beaver like me is difficult. And then the family, the children, the household are all waiting and for movement one really has to plan one’s time to the last minute to be able to realise it at all.
As I engage in sport every day, the off-peak hours are the only possibility. At 6.00am I jump into the swimming pool and, sunk in waves and thoughts, I swim my laps and by 8.00am at the latest I’m at my desk.
Years ago this was a lonely pastime, where I always met the same few people time and again. We knew each other and greeted each other. Those days are past. The overcrowding has not stopped even at the indoor pool. At 6.00 am two lanes are closed for athletes and the others are overfilled.
The problem is speed. Not everyone is equally fast. Overtaking in marked, narrow swimming lanes is not at all easy and very often without body contact not possible.
I am not slow and can easily crawl an hour at high speed. But compared with young men between 20 and 30 years of age, I am a snail to be overtaken. Then I’m hit (unintentionally), knocked (painfully) and kicked. As a breath in, a wave of water is forced down my throat. You can no longer talk of meditation and relaxation.
These young men are ruthless. Perhaps it is the testosterone and perhaps only a poor upbringing. The result is however awful. They are taller and more muscular than I am, they never apologise and from my swim I take home bruises. That applies from Monday to Friday. The weekend is wonderfully lonely, because I assume they are stil asleep after a demanding party.
Reluctantly I had to take the decision that swimming like this is not fun. Therefore during the week you can find me jogging in the wood at 6.00am. Unfortunately swimming is only for the weekend or, as soon as the lake temperature is warmer, then outside again.
One could also call it the survival of the stronger and ruthless.
Image source: Rainer Sturm / pixelio.de