Public Property

Last night I decided to add a new element to my exercise schedule. By 6:30 I found myself at the Cuddell Recreation Center on West Boulevard and Detroit-on the near west side of Cleveland-swimming in an Olympic-sized pool. West Boulevard and Detroit isn't exactly the best spot in Cleveland. When weird things happen at RTA stations, for those of you in the suburbs, it is usually at the one across the street from this recreation center.

The whole experience was weird. In the two lanes to my right were two women who could have been Olympians (at least compared to me) who were racing one another in the freestyle. To my immediate left were several older men who were dropped off from their group home to stand in this lane for a half an hour and do nothing but float in and out of my lane. There was really nothing rational I could say to them, I found myself in an aquatic human obstacle course. Also, as I swam I found out why Liz refuses to go into public pools. The first time I came up for air and got water in my mouth I began to panic and was so grossed out. I was in that pool for twenty minutes and could not have gotten into the shower quicker when I got home.

The whole thing reminded me of the Seinfeld episode (Episode 152, The Nap) where Kramer decides to start swimming in the East River. When he starts to stink he says something similar to what Liz said to me last night when I started itching: “Hey I think I know what it is. I think it might be the East River. I think it’s polluted.” The other problem was that I am so out of shape and swimming proved to be a lot tougher than I thought it would be. I had to take breaks because I didn’t trust the lifeguard who was in her late forties and almost twice my size. I tried to pace myself as I swam through the gross water, trying not to get it into my mouth and also trying to dodge the older men drifting into my lane thinking it was their own. No wonder I was so damn tired when I got home.