Why I Don’t Go Swimming

I have a fear of water, believe it or not. To put a wire 12 feet over a swimming pool frightens me. I don’t like water. — Philippe Petit, French high-wire artist

I realize swimming is great exercise, beneficial for building endurance, toning muscles, and maintaining a healthy weight.

But I’m totally with Philippe Petit here — I’m afraid of the water, so I don’t enjoy swimming and frankly, can’t ever see that changing.

Unless I’m forced into a pool to do something like physical therapy … maybe.

Like most kids I knew, I had to take Red Cross swimming lessons at our large public pool. But I hated them.

June is far too cold to warm up the water in that behemoth, so while the instructors wrapped up in heavy towels and sat on the banks, we kids were in the water. Splashing, kicking, blowing bubbles.

And freezing.

Technically, I learned to swim; however, I’d hate to put that knowledge to the test.

And fear of the water isn’t my only problem.

Call it excessive modesty (or just plain weirdness), but even from a young age, I was self-conscious over appearing in public in a bathing suit.

Also known as a second skin.

Little Debbie was all legs and thin as a rail; most of the other kids were round.

Did you know “Rounds” float, “Rails” don’t?

Really.

Perhaps worst of all is the cleanliness factor.

Signs told us to shower before and after entering the pool, but five seconds under a cold trickle doesn’t make anybody really clean, does it?

Nor did it help to overhear kids admitting (often gleefully) that it was “too much trouble” to walk back to the locker room and use the bathroom, when the pool was treated with chemicals anyway.

WHAT???

Fear of water runs far back in my family tree. My late grandpa was so terrified of water, you couldn’t have pushed him into a pool. His daughter (my mom) used every excuse in the book not to have to go swimming. I must’ve inherited that gene.

Growing up, I had friends who were lifeguards. Friends whose families spent weekends at the lake. Friends who relished pool parties.

Not me.

When my son Domer and I flew to Dublin, Ireland, many years ago, I was grateful the flight was at night, so I didn’t have to think about dropping into that Big Pond.

But at least I’d have been wearing clothes, not a swimsuit!