Humans doing butterflies, men practicing breaststrokes and scantily clad and wet people doing freestyle, it is a funny act. Swimming is. At least for me, it is a non-human act which should be the reserve of aquatic creatures only.
I am jealous of Phelps. Not because he has done anything to me but because he swims like a fish and I swim like a ball of solid iron. Not sure how he does what he does but I know how I do what I do. Just enter the water, try not to move anything and go straight down. How I wish I had gills instead of lungs. So that I would not have to leave this world just to be in water for some time.
Till I was 42, I never entered a pool, except that roadside muddy puddle my bicycle threw me into when I was trying my luck with the wheels 30 years earlier. Lucky for me the poodle was not very deep. I would not even dare look at people doing butterflies, breaststrokes and everything in between in water. Even photos of people swimming would create a lump in my throat. Lump of sheer, raw fear. I would never ever venture into the pool again till that fateful week in the Philippines in 2016.
July 2016, I was in Manila, a city that never game any money despite its name. Tucked into a room on the 12th floor, my poor self had to walk up the stairs time and again due to the elevator being packed with a long queue waiting outside or it being broken altogether. Even worse, the pool was on the top of the 35 storey building. I thought I would be swimming among the clouds.
I knew everything about swimming. It was just Archimede’s principle. Displace more water than your own weight and you are afloat. Simple. I thought I was a light man and could easily displace enough water. If not, I thought I would draw in full breath, swell my stomach to the full and float like a styrofoam. With this thought in mind and with added motivation from my swimmer friends, I made the big decision. To swim. Problem was that I did not have the costume. Neither myself nor my wife thought that i would swim anywhere other than the hotel bathtub before packing the bags. I was devastated. It took me two days of scouring the market to get my piece, a hefty 700 peso piece. A hefty sum for a costume that I used only 4 times in 26 months. Business people reading this would envy my investment skills.
I am a shy guy. I do not go out in shorts or quarters. Let alone be in the swimming costume. Over-exposed. And no one would love to see this hairy, scary and emaciated stick of a body with little on. But thinking it would be even worse to swim with my clothes on, I mustered herculean courage to come out in my costume, nervously pulling at the ends and rims time and again. While my younger colleagues were navigating water like sharks, I timidly walked into the pool, repeating the Archimede’s principle to myself as an insurance policy. I went lower and lower, drew full breath to inflate myself, pushed my stomach outward and did every trick possible to displace enough water but still I did not float. May be my thin bones were too dense with my mother’s good care or may be my muscles were heavy with my rigorous workout 25 years earlier in my village. Whatever the reason, I was a heavyweight. Some consolation there.
With my friend’s instruction, I grasped the edge of the pool, let my feet loose, lowered by head and kicked franticly at water to be afloat. Harder I tried, quicker I drowned. I gasped for breath, I might even have gulped a few mouthfuls of pool water in the process. Despite my hefty attempts and sacrifices, I could not stay afloat. Everyone else said it was easy but pushing the rock of Sisyphus up mount everest would be easier for me. After 4 days of exposure and exasperation, I called it quits. I never ventured up those 25 stories again during my 4 week stay. My costume still waits to get wet again. I am so heavy that only dead sea can probably make me float. Waiting for my trip there, no idea if and when.
30 September 2018
((((The base script of my speech for the Humorous Speech Contest at Everest Toastmasters, held on Sunday, 30 September 2018. This is dedicated to the ever supportive members of the club.))))
I am jealous of Phelps. Not because he has done anything to me but because he swims like a fish and I swim like a ball of solid iron. Not sure how he does what he does but I know how I do what I do. Just enter the water, try not to move anything and go straight down. How I wish I had gills instead of lungs. So that I would not have to leave this world just to be in water for some time.
Till I was 42, I never entered a pool, except that roadside muddy puddle my bicycle threw me into when I was trying my luck with the wheels 30 years earlier. Lucky for me the poodle was not very deep. I would not even dare look at people doing butterflies, breaststrokes and everything in between in water. Even photos of people swimming would create a lump in my throat. Lump of sheer, raw fear. I would never ever venture into the pool again till that fateful week in the Philippines in 2016.
July 2016, I was in Manila, a city that never game any money despite its name. Tucked into a room on the 12th floor, my poor self had to walk up the stairs time and again due to the elevator being packed with a long queue waiting outside or it being broken altogether. Even worse, the pool was on the top of the 35 storey building. I thought I would be swimming among the clouds.
I knew everything about swimming. It was just Archimede’s principle. Displace more water than your own weight and you are afloat. Simple. I thought I was a light man and could easily displace enough water. If not, I thought I would draw in full breath, swell my stomach to the full and float like a styrofoam. With this thought in mind and with added motivation from my swimmer friends, I made the big decision. To swim. Problem was that I did not have the costume. Neither myself nor my wife thought that i would swim anywhere other than the hotel bathtub before packing the bags. I was devastated. It took me two days of scouring the market to get my piece, a hefty 700 peso piece. A hefty sum for a costume that I used only 4 times in 26 months. Business people reading this would envy my investment skills.
I am a shy guy. I do not go out in shorts or quarters. Let alone be in the swimming costume. Over-exposed. And no one would love to see this hairy, scary and emaciated stick of a body with little on. But thinking it would be even worse to swim with my clothes on, I mustered herculean courage to come out in my costume, nervously pulling at the ends and rims time and again. While my younger colleagues were navigating water like sharks, I timidly walked into the pool, repeating the Archimede’s principle to myself as an insurance policy. I went lower and lower, drew full breath to inflate myself, pushed my stomach outward and did every trick possible to displace enough water but still I did not float. May be my thin bones were too dense with my mother’s good care or may be my muscles were heavy with my rigorous workout 25 years earlier in my village. Whatever the reason, I was a heavyweight. Some consolation there.
With my friend’s instruction, I grasped the edge of the pool, let my feet loose, lowered by head and kicked franticly at water to be afloat. Harder I tried, quicker I drowned. I gasped for breath, I might even have gulped a few mouthfuls of pool water in the process. Despite my hefty attempts and sacrifices, I could not stay afloat. Everyone else said it was easy but pushing the rock of Sisyphus up mount everest would be easier for me. After 4 days of exposure and exasperation, I called it quits. I never ventured up those 25 stories again during my 4 week stay. My costume still waits to get wet again. I am so heavy that only dead sea can probably make me float. Waiting for my trip there, no idea if and when.
30 September 2018
((((The base script of my speech for the Humorous Speech Contest at Everest Toastmasters, held on Sunday, 30 September 2018. This is dedicated to the ever supportive members of the club.))))
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