What's a "Lido"?

We've entered the last few weeks of summer. 

The light is changing and the days are getting shorter.

The water in the pool at the Riviera Club is 

getting cooler; we swim in and out of shaded 

and sunlit patches, the temperatures 

markedly different in each one.

I like the cooler water, prefer it even, to the

warmer temperatures that are really tiring to swim

in for a length of time. Yeh, I bitch and moan,

but it's really pleasant overall.

The Riviera Club is old, opening in 1933, 

and has that gangly spread out feeling of having

been enlarged and expanded into spaces

wherever they can be found. It has a homey, 

comfortable atmosphere. The pool is the size

of two (American) football fields with areas 

for lap swimming, water exercises/calisthenics, as

well as slides for children in a large baby pool.  

I've often seen pools called "lidos" on an English

website called Outdoor Swimming Society.

The term, I think, came from the Italian word for beach

and refers to outdoor public swimming areas

and their surrounding facilities. 

I've often wondered whether the Rivi 

may be regarded as a lido. Even though use of

the facilities usually requires membership, 

non-members may participate for an additional fee.

No matter, this is *my* little bit of Venice.

My own lido.

Just About Tripped Over Him, I Did

Just as my bus crossed over the bridge 

at the Broad Ripple Canal, I looked over to see 

this heron standing beside towpath to the canal. 

I got off the bus a few feet further on 

and found the bird had not been startled away. 

I got my camera out of my backpack and was able 

to get a few pictures of the heron.

He was only about twenty-five feet away.

Generally, they seem to be very shy creatures 

flying away at the first appearance of a human

(this one, anyway), so I count myself lucky 

to have gotten this shot of a bit of

Indy's urban wildlife. 

Bummer: Swimmers ...

 ... Beached.

It doesn't look it, but the water in this section 

of the Riviera Club pool is three feet deep.

When I got off the bus at the club's entrance, I felt

light raindrops on my face. I looked west,

towards the Speedway area and the clouds were

dark, filled with rain. I remembered "Indy 500"

telecasts from years ago, when the announcers would

have occasion to say, "It's raining in Terre Haute,"

about 70 miles away, and know we had about 

an hour before the front reached us.

Saturday morning, as I walked up the drive,

the clouds were in Speedway, only about 

five minutes from the pool. The shower 

turned into a nice thunderstorm, 

trapping about a dozen people,

who're not ordinarily averse to being wet,

under the veranda, away from flashes of lightning

and thunder. For about an hour folks chatted, then went 

their separate ways, some to find an indoor pool, 

others to wait until Monday afternoon.

Summer Days with IAM

With the Natatorium closed for the next two weeks

 due to meets held there, I swim at the Riviera Club. 

The sounds of running water and children's 

chatter in the background make the sessions more 

relaxing - for me, anyway. There are wooden lounge

chairs pool-side, occupied by middle-aged 

matrons, gossiping among themselves

as they basked in the late afternoon sun,

while a couple IAM members put in some

additional laps. Their fins and kickboard contrast 

with the pool toys left on a nearby bench.

Mermaid and Mermen

Early Saturday morning, I went to join other members 

of IAM for a swim practice at the Riviera Club 

on the near north side of Indy. I've been doing this 

for just over a year now. When I first went to Rivi, I could

not swim a full length of the pool (fifty yards)

without stopping about half way to catch my breath 

gather my nerve. On this day, I did most  of

the workout and was slightly chagrined

that the coach on deck did not ask me for more.

We began at eight in the morning and,

ninety minutes later, as I dried off in the spring-like

morning air, I looked over to see the little mermaid

floating in one of the kiddie pools. 

While a cartoonist's version of a female figure,

she nevertheless reflected the same version

of the body I still dream of attaining;

even in late middle age, I find myself affected

by years of social conditioning that

I need to look a certain way in order to

be attractive to men. What the hell?

This time a year ago, I could not swim 

seventy-five feet. I've since lost weight amounting 

to five dress sizes, I can swim over a mile 

without stopping, and I'm looking for more distance;

I want to swim three miles in the near future,

over six miles as the next goal, with longer-distance

open water swims as a main goal. 

 But, really, I still just want to be pretty.