They all have their own times as well. I usually swim at lunchtime, where everyone is on a mission. They have to get their half a mile done in their lunch hour. They don't talk to each other but they nod or mumble the length number they are on. There are always old women in the sauna moaning about how dreadful their son's girlfriends are as mothers.
Sometimes I swim with my son in an evening, when the pool is full of kids, all trying to do anything but swim. They run, shout, flirt, jump and splash. Swimming at that time is like a human obstacle course, with the added challenge that the obstacles move in strange and unpredictable ways. If they have a lane open then there are the very serious swimmers, who have a training programme. They have floats and goggles and a bottle of isotonic drink and time their laps, changing their stroke every 4 lengths. They talk to each other a lot. They compare times and training patterns and complain about kids and slow swimmers and always have advice for cramp. "Oh, I know how that feels!"
Early on Sunday morning before the families arrive with their babies, the Triathletes train. They have already run and cycled and so should be slow but they're not. They power through the water in their odd costumes that show every lump and bump. When they swim they undo the zip, which has the unfortunate effect of making them look as though they are exposing their breasts. They sit on the side catching their breath and it's only as I get close enough without my glasses that I realise it's a man with well developed pectoral muscles and not a woman flashing her cleavage.
Later in the day, or late in the evening there are plenty of women who do expose themselves. They wear flimsy bikinis, and show off their fake tans and rub up against their boyfriends with mis-spelt tattoos. They don't swim very far and keep their heads well above the water, which is probably a good thing as they would leave a make-up slick in their wake.
Occasionally, I've swum before work in the Sunrisers session. The pool opens at 6.30 and there is a queue of serious older swimmers. The few times I've been I have been tutted at. A newcomer, they hope I'm fast enough (I'm not!), and then horror of horrors, "children! What are they doing in the pool?" I was thrilled that I knew the children and had great fun watching them lap those (very fast) old folk over and over again.
This morning I found the most entertaining time to swim, 8am. After my son, I was the next youngest in the pool by about 20 years. The most competitive older folk had finished their swims the friendly old people swims. Yes, they still complained about how busy it was but with no tutting, "I don't know, how dare these teachers be on holiday," was said with a twinkle in the eye and a direct wink at me. There was the ex-mayor, who bellowed jokes at everyone in his booming voice, people who were swimming to recover from an injury or illness. There was an abundance of bands to cover ears, flowery swimming hats and very old men in Speedos.
Everyone knew everyone else by name. They had conversations with the lifeguards, discussing their recent holidays and comparing how many women they had shagged (lifeguards won!) There was a wonderful, white haired, white lipped man, a fantastic story-teller, who after a while complained that he was beginning to believe the story himself. He told everyone who got into the pool that he had received an e-mail this morning from the Olympic swimming team and they'd asked him to be on the reserve team. He completed his 2nd length and announced that he had done twice what he planned. Apparently, he does one length on Monday, 2 on Tuesday and so on. He was warned to take it easy, "Careful, you'll get dizzy!"
A sitcom would be an interesting idea. I know there was the Britas Empire but that was about the staff who worked in a Leisure Centre and was a vehicle for Chris Barrie after he left Red Dwarf but to follow the morning swimmers could be so amusing.
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