I am excited to get to work on my new goal of becoming a better swimmer, but my lessons don’t start until August. After a little research, I discovered water aerobics classes are offered daily at public pools around Indianapolis.
Splashing around in some shallow water with a bunch of elderly women seemed like an easy and relaxing way to tune up my atrophied mermaid muscles and pass the time until my real lessons begin.
And, at the very least, the hour-long dip would be a reprieve from the suffocating blanket of wet heat that’s been draped across the city for over a week now.
I decided it would be best to avoid the neighborhood pools.
Because of the oppressive temperatures and humidity, the water parks are crawling with bodies from dawn to dusk. The blare of little people screaming at the top of their lungs - even if they are shouts of youthful joy - gives me a migraine.
Plus when a pool is packed to standing-room-only, I can’t help but question the water quality. I’d rather share a pond with wading cattle than swim in some of these public bath tubs.
The Indiana University Natatorium (the Nat) downtown seemed like a good option. The Nat is a serious swimming facility, offering a wide variety of aquatic classes and sports. There have been 101 American records and 15 world records set in the competition pool to date.
The line of SUV’s waiting to enter the Nat parking garage should have given it away. I didn’t notice the passengers until I’d paid the hefty parking fee and found a spot. A line of squealing kids wearing bright-colored Speedo’s and flip-flops spilled out of the Suburban next to me like clowns from a VW Bug.
The one day I decided to try out water aerobics at the Nat, a children’s swim meet was taking place in the competition pool.
“Are water aerobics canceled for the day?” I asked the manager of the swim store.
“Nope! You’ll use the diving well today,” she said. “Just follow the crowd... it’s right next to the competition pool.”
Hundreds of rowdy, sugar-charged mini-athletes milled around the main pool like bees on a hive. Twice as many people - coaches, parents, family, friends, fans waving signs -filled the stadium seating above both pools.
To be honest, I hate normal aerobics classes; the activity requires coordination and rhythm -both skills I lack.
Aquatic aerobics would be different; no one could see how ridiculous I looked because I’d be hidden under water.
We began the class “water jogging” in laps around the 17-foot deep diving well. I was last in line, trying to play monkey-see, monkey-do with the 5 older women in front of me. Thankfully, a woman in her late sixties felt sorry for me and yelled helpful hints over her shoulder at me.
“Just move your arms and legs really fast like you’re running,” she said.
I was doing just that yet still the silver-hairs were quickly leaving me behind like I was standing still - which really, I was.
Our instructor walked the length of the pool attempting in vain to yell commands at us over the continuous cheers of the swim meet crowd.
After 30 minutes of nonstop motion, my feet began to cramp, contorting my toes into bizarre angles.
I bounced around in the water like a defective bobber, cursing out loud (no one could hear me over the migraine-inducing din of the crowd) as I attempted to massage my peds back into their proper form.
A tiny girl, wearing a baggy pink swimsuit, matching swim cap, and purple bug-eyed goggles, must have gotten bored with the competition and turned to the dive pool where she spotted some more amusing entertainment - me.
Thankfully, the little lifeguard noted my distressed expression. She grabbed a giant foam noodle from a stack near the pool, and tossed it in my direction.
I gave her the “thumbs up” and she covered her mouth in a giggle, trotting back to her group.
Eventually, the instructor waved us all to the edge of the pool. I couldn’t hear a word she said, but I just watched the other women, trying to mimic their moves.
I clutched the wall and tried to keep my arms and back in a flat line and my rear in the air while swinging my legs down at the hips and then back up to the surface of the water in reps of 20. No matter how hard I tried, my tail end kept sinking.
“SQUEEZE YOUR BUTT CHEEKS TOGETHER!” the instructor shouted at me just at the perfect moment when the audience was relatively quiet.
I tilted my head to the side, looked up, and saw the fans in the bleachers above me now ignoring their Olympic-hopefuls. Instead, they stared down on me and my B-U-T-T.
Whose idea was water aerobics?
( 1 Vote )
