Revolution: it's personal.
A former lover used to say that I didn't have proper toes,
that I got "toe buds" on the ends of my short,
wide feet. I have just enough foot to keep me from
tipping over when I walk, thank you. They serve.
These days, scarred and callused, they help
propel me through the water as I swim.
With the Natatorium undergoing renovations,
I now go to the pool at Butler University for practice.
Most evenings, the narrow lanes are crowded
with other swimmers. With so many people at practice
we need to share the lanes, circling down one side,
back on the other. The place is my nemesis:
if I am going to be hurt while swimming this
is generally where it happens.
The other night, I hit, or was hit, by another swimmer,
jamming a knuckle and jarring an already sore shoulder.
It hurt and was swollen and numb. I was a whiney
bitch and took my hurt feelings and swollen
hand home to reconsider my position.
I have goals I want to achieve and I need
to not let little knocks and scrapes annoy me.
I decided I should just pull on my big girl panties
and get over it. I returned to the pool the next night
to swim a little harder.
Besides (and here's where the "revolution" part
comes in), I decided I was having a white girl,
"first world" problem. The facility at Butler is in
a beautiful, well-equipped student recreation
center that's less than ten years old -- and I was kvetching
because I did not have access to the world class
facility where I am used to swimming.
In a world where so many people do not have access
to clean water to drink, where their rivers
are cesspools of fecal matter, where the water
is rationed or where people have no water at all,
I have my choice of places that are full of the
beautiful blue stuff.
So ... "Get over it, doofus!"
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