Death Before Actual Exercise: The Battle For The Pool

Some people have a lot of nerve trying to actually work out at a gym.

This morning I decided that I needed to exercise. Now, usually I’m good about actually doing stuff when I go to the gym. My personal favorite at the moment is the elliptical. Especially since this particular gym has a seated elliptical. So I get the best of both worlds: I get to sit on my butt and watch TV while also working up a sweat. Most importantly, I get to show off my cute workout clothes. And be seen working out.

Okay, so maybe I’m not that great about going to the gym. But at least I can say I’ve never posted a workout selfie on Instagram. I get credit for that, right?

Anyhoo, the point is I usually do actual exercise stuff when I go to the gym. Today, however, what I needed was relaxation. Our gym has a fabulous indoor pool. Few things are more relaxing for me than floating on my back in a nice heated pool. So that’s what I set out to do.

In order to have the most relaxing experience possible, I planned ahead. When I went to the gym yesterday, I checked the posted schedule. From 6 AM to 9:30 AM was unreserved open swim time. I looked at the pool during those times after I finished my elliptical time. It was nice and empty.

I figured from 6 AM to 7:30ish would be busy, since that’s the time frame that the hard core gym rats would be there taking a swim to relax after their 10 mile run on the treadmill (which only took 30 minutes, which apparently is NOT the personal best time for the gym rats which is bumming them out, so they’re gonna drown their sorrows in a kale smoothie with extra beets and quinoa sprinkles, and they’re gonna look damn good doing it because they’ve never had an ounce of extra fat on their bodies in their entire lives, whereas just hearing about their kale smoothie made me gain a pound). Stupid kale drinking perfect body having gym rats.

But then I thought I didn’t want to wait TOO long because then all the water aerobics people would start showing up early to do some pre-aerobics strutting around the pool, and I didn’t want that interrupting my relaxation either.

So I headed there around 8 AM thinking I’d hit a perfect window. AND I DID.  I had some glorious relaxing float time…which lasted all of two minutes.

But then along came The Overachievers.

Apparently this group decided it wasn’t enough just to warm up in the pool. They were going to have A CLASS BEFORE THE CLASS. And they had zero patience for people like me who were there to enjoy the open swim time.

And thus began the great passive aggressive Battle For The Pool.

To give you an idea of the battleground, the pool is divided into four sections. The entry area has the giant frog slide, shallow water, and a lazy river. It’s where all the kiddies go to splash and shout like crazy while the parents sit in the lounge chairs and shout encouraging and/or threatening stuff from the sidelines (“yay Jimmy! Look at you having fun! That’s so cute — wait, no Jimmy! Do NOT dunk your sister in the lazy river! I will banish you from the giant frog if you don’t leave her alone! JIMMY!!”)

The second section, where I was hanging out, was The Neutral Zone. It was deeper than The Kiddie Kingdom, but still not super deep. It was designed for people like me who, when they say they’re “going to the pool to swim” actually mean “I’m going to the pool to strut around, backfloat, and maybe splash some people if they’re being jerks.”

The third section is the diving area. I don’t think I really need to explain that one.

The fourth section is the lap lanes which are dedicated to people who actually want to swim and not be mowed down by jumping, splashing children or water aerobics enthusiasts.

So I’m chilling in The Neutral Zone when in storms the class. At first they set up shop in the lazy river. The leader is barking orders at them to run laps around the lazy river track. Instantly, a flock of about a dozen middle aged women start furiously strutting through the lane. From my view in The Neutral Zone, it looked like they were doing some sort of crazed ritual. Maybe they thought if they could run in perfect sync, they could conjure up some sort of spell to make the kale smoothies taste like ice cream sundaes. Or better yet, make ice cream sundaes not cause weight gain. I could get on board with that.

I’m starting to feel like a bit of a slacker, so I meander into a lap lane for a minute. It doesn’t take me long to remember that I am a terrible swimmer. Specifically, I am a slow motion swimmer. If there was ever a scene in a movie that called for a shot of someone swimming in slow motion, they could just film me. Alas, Hollywood has not displayed a need for my talent. So I just swim slowly and get winded easily.

Then I drag my slow moving butt back over to The Neutral Zone and resume doing some leisurely back floats.

“ALL RIGHT GIRLS, LET’S MOVE!” shouts The Leader, mobilizing her army of Soccer Moms in Swimsuits into The Neutral Zone (and therefore crowding my area).

The Soccer Mom army form an ever expanding circle, swishing and twirling and jogging up a storm. It’s clear they want me to get out of their way. And I make it more clear that I’m not budging, floating with stubborn purpose.

“MARCH SOCCER MOMS, MARCH!”

And then the stampede begins as I’m nearly knocked out of the pool by the pre-class class stomping from one end of The Neutral Zone to another.

I’m about to surrender, when suddenly reinforcements arrive. An army of small children rush in, splashing and jumping and screeching.

“That’s it kids,” I think to myself. “Take back the pool!”

And their squealing stuns The Soccer Moms in Swimsuits into a stupor, forcing them to finally retreat.

So technically I didn’t win the passive aggressive battle for the pool. But I’m still calling it a victory for non-swimmers like myself. Perhaps I need to start bringing a small army of hyperactive children with me to help win my battles. That could get interesting. I think I’ll devise my battle strategy while taking a nice hot bath at home. That way I’m safe from the Soccer Mom Army.