I sit at the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the cold blue water. A sharp odor of chlorine tickles my nose as I fidget with my goggles, slowly rubbing circles of anti-fog drops onto each lens. I readjust my ponytail and stretch my swim cap over my head. I rearrange my fins and pull buoy and check my workout list. I rinse my goggles, tug them over my head and lower them onto my face. I set my watch to the stopwatch function and clear the time from my last workout. I tug at the leg openings of my suit. I adjust and readjust: goggles, cap, suit, ear plugs and then goggles again.
Other people are also preparing for their workouts. Some just cram on their caps, slap on their goggles, jump in and push off from the wall. Others loiter like me, delaying entry into the shallow depths. None of us are talking—it’s too early in the morning for animated conversation or commiseration. Canned Top 40 music echoes over the steady splash of arms and hands entering and exiting the water.
My pre-swim ritual is not born of superstition. Disastrous results will not plague my workout if all steps are not completed before I begin. This is not a mental session where I am visualizing how each part of the workout must go so as to reap the most benefits. I’d really like to use one of these reasons as an excuse for my loitering. At least it would give me a little validation as a serious athlete. But in the end, it’s really about putting off the inevitable. I have to get into a cold pool. I don’t mind the work but I really do hate getting into a cold pool at 6:30 a.m.
Sighing, I slide, inch by shivering inch, into the chilling water. As it reaches my waist, humid pool air is involuntary sucked into my lungs in response to the shock of the cold water reaching bare skin. Goose bumps prickle my arms. Another minute is spent playing with my watch while I mentally gear up for that moment when I will dunk the rest of my body into what is now feeling like the icy depths of the Arctic Ocean.
There is some more mental back and forth until finally, I can’t delay any longer or I will be late for work. I press the start button on my watch and push off from the wall. My face is the last thing to enter the water.
