For me, Thursday mornings at Primary School were never good. That was because it was Swimming Day. A day that struck fear into the heart of every primary age child in the North East Wales area. It was an event that I always regarded with the same kind of nervous apprehension that I now reserve for the lesson with bottom set Year 9 – that if I can just get through it then I won't have to do it again for another week....
Actually, I liked swimming. It was, in fact, the only sport that I was passably good at. It wasn't the actual swimming that worried me but the whole unpleasant process, from piling onto the cold, draughty old bus, to being forced to strip off in freezing, dirty changing rooms and then being made to swim five lengths before the rest of the students in the lower classes got into the pool. To make matters worse, one would always get kicked in the face by an over-zealous class mate who wanted to beat you at the end of lesson race. Being a fairly sensitive child who was prone to worrying about things going wrong, I was always slightly scared of drowning because I'd had my head under the water for too long. But the thing I hated most of all was getting water in my eyes and nose. For this reason, I never mastered the front crawl, even though I was perfectly competent at both back stroke and breast stroke.
Living here in Bucharest, I have been lucky enough to join a fairly swanky health club where there is a lovely pool and sauna. When I arrived here, I began swimming regularly and to my surprise found that a) the fear of drowning had almost gone and b) compared to many other people in the pool, I'm actually quite a strong swimmer. One day, I plucked up enough courage to put my head under water, and found that I still can't stand getting water in my eyes and nose. In order to become a serious swimmer, I realised, I was going to have to take some serious steps.
Like buy a pair of goggles. Maybe.
At my primary school, goggles were regarded with suspicion, as if they were some kind of pansy swimming apparatus that only wimpy kids or serious swimmers used. Donning a pair of goggles, I decided, might make people think that I think that I'm a good swimmer. They might think that I'm up myself, or that I have thoughts above my station...
Siani, stop being stupid, I said to myself. It's only a pair of goggles - so what if I look enthusiastic? So what if I look like I care? You're not in Standard Six any more! You're thirty two years old! No one's going to point and laugh at you!
So I bought a pair of goggles (pink, naturally) and slunk back to the pool. In I got and tried, over and over again to do a length of front crawl. Again and again I put my head under and came back up, coughing and spluttering with water up my nose and down my throat. I could feel the fear of drowning coming back. I was regressing into my ten year old self. Clearly the goggles weren't enough. I was going to have to invest in some heavy duty machinery. I was going to have to invest in a ….
nose clip...
Back I went to the shop, bought the offending item (pink) and headed home. I tried it on in the privacy of my own bathroom before taking it to the pool and was slightly disturbed to find that it made me look like some kind of bizarre Kling-on. But at least no one'll be laughing when I'm doing streaking up and down the pool doing front crawl, I told myself, letting competitive primary school Siani take over for one second.
The next day, at the pool, all suited and booted (so to speak) and looking a little like a professional swimmer (so I thought), I got into the pool. Checking that no one was watching, I cautiously put my head under and pushed off, trying a few experimental strokes.
Suddenly, I could do front crawl! It was easy! Well, easier than it had been before. I still kept crashing into the lane dividers and whilst flailing around in the deep end, mistakenly hit an elderly woman on the left buttock. But I persevered and an hour later could swim in a reasonably straight line. I had also cleared the pool and coming up for air, realised that the lifeguard was staring at me, obviously wondering if he should blow his whistle at me and order me out of the pool before I could do any more damage.
Anyway, to cut a long and not very interesting story short, I can now do front crawl. It took me a long time to get there - twenty years, a pair of goggles, and a nose clip - and it has taken me on a journey of self discovery. In order to conquer my fears I had to work out what was making it so hard in the first place. Maybe now that I'm thirty two, I have the ability to work backward more logically. It took me a really long time to realise that the solution to not getting water up your nose is to buy a nose clip. Simple.
I think my nose clip has changed my life.
Now, however, I really want a swimming cap. It would have to be pink though, to match the rest of my gear. Otherwise, I'd look like an amateur.
