Getting harder to steel nerves for outdoor pool

In my old age it seems I’ve officially turned into a real weenie.

A cold swimming pool on a hot summer day used to be inviting. These days it just makes the joints stiff.

With the Natatorium closed for the summer, our AquaFitness group was forced to migrate to new waters somewhere just short of the Arctic Ocean. Actually it was just the outdoor City Pool where I eagerly spent days in the summers of my youth.

Global warming has not affected these waters yet. I thought the indoor pool needed to be a little warmer but it was like bath water compared to the outdoor pool.

Dipping my toe into the water, I knew it was going to be bad, but as I slipped into the water up past my swim trunks I noticed an unusual physiological change I hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

I kept telling myself I would get used to it but my body kept urging me to fling myself back on the hot concrete surrounding the pool. Surprisingly enough I did get used to it — quicker than I thought. Mind you I still didn’t plunge my head beneath the surface, however.

In my younger days I waded mountain streams and rivers while fishing and hiking. It felt good and I didn’t mind the way my sneakers squished. In fact I even purchased a pair of canvas shoes with valves in the instep that expelled the water in a few steps after exiting the stream. Later on those kind of shoes became popular with stocking foot waders that fly fishermen wore.

I bought both hip boots and chest waders in which to fish and duck hunt. They were lots of trouble to get into and often I didn’t have them with me when I had a mallard down on a ditch or pothole. In those cases I would take the wallet and other things out of my pocket and plunge into the cold murk despite the fact that it was middle December and I was breaking a thin layer of ice.

I always seemed to misjudge the depth or how far I would sink into the mud. Times when I was sure I was only going in up to my knees I ended up ruining a good belt. Occasionally, if I was sure it was deep I would strip down to underwear or beyond in the name of retrieving a stinky old duck.

I’ve managed to make two classes at the outdoor pool so far but I won’t lie; it’s hard to steel up the nerve to show up and exercise.

If I could only find one of my old duck decoys I would have a classmate pitch one into the water as class starts. I would probably hit the water like a Labrador retriever.

Karl Terry writes for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at:

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