Friday, I went to a mid-morning swim practice
at the Natatorium. Somewhere in the back
of my pea-brain, I'd expected we'd be using
the main competition pool.
After all, it had been used for the
YMCA Long Course Championships
just the week before, right?
I was surprised to see the lane lines loosened
and floating in the pool like a necklace
of beads, thrown down after a night of hard partying.
What? No men in Speedos?
Instead, workmen with jackhammers were hard
at work, tearing up the remaining sections of tiled
deck that hadn't yet been replaced.
We used the instruction pool to the north
that is separated from the competition pool
by a long glass wall. It kept out most of the sound
of the jackhammers - until one put one's
head in the water, where it echoed for the entire
time I was in the water. Overall, though,
it was a quiet place, with just the sound of
Coach Craig's voice as he gave instruction
to the swimmers.
I've missed my home. Last week was like meeting
an old friend on the street and today's swim
was working towards a reunion, one that I am
looking forward to this November, after the current
phase of remodeling is complete.