Waving not drowning!

How are you keeping your head above water? 

Each morning at my local gym, there is a golden window of time, somewhere between the briefcases departing and baby buggies arriving, when the pool is ideal for me.

I try to get there most mornings when I can as it offers a great thinking opportunity where my left brain counts the strokes and lengths and generally keeps itself busy in perfect linear fashion, whilst my right brain cavorts around how it is going to meet the various creative requirements of the day ahead. 

Just recently, I have been jolted into realising that the pool offers a rich slice of life analogy, so my morning swim has taken on an added social study dimension...

This particular pool is divided by floating marker lines into three lanes, marked "slow lane", "medium lane" and "fast lane" and the instructions on the side inform us that we should swim in a clockwise direction. (Another notice sternly informs us of all the things we can't do - which immediately makes me want to run, dive, splash and shout like a lout!).

I love watching the choices people make between the lanes and their process of deciding whether they are "fast lane rockets" or "slow lane plodders" as the whole pool begins to resemble an organisational hierarchy. 

To swim in the fast lane, it seems that you have to have the right gear and take yourself very seriously, (although it must be a challenge in a very tight hat that makes you look like a rubber gob-stopper, goggles that make you look like the mother-ship is waiting for you to re-join it and a nose clip borrowed from a synchronised swimming team.)

The fast-lane swimmers take it very seriously indeed, hardly ever greet or acknowledge each other, enter and exit the pool by shunning the steps and thrash up and down in seeming oblivion to whatever else is going on in the pool. These guys and girls know exactly what they are tasking themselves to achieve and it's a purposeful, productive and performance-based part of the pool that a less competent swimmer would be well-advised to steer clear of, lest you be mown down and drowned by someone in a rubber hat with photos of Michael Phelps in their waterproof wallet.

The slow lane over on the other side of the pool is the entire opposite where people enter and exit by the steps, stretch and take rests at each end, greet each other, talk to each other, occasionally bump into each other - and if there are only two swimmers present, muck up the clockwise arrangement by agreeing to take a side each and swim up and down at their own pace.

Instead of rubber hats, they sport a collection of rubber flip-flops, often with sparkly bits on, that they park by the steps in the same way that small children keep new shoes by the end of their beds so that they can see them when they wake up next morning.

The slow lane swimmers don't need a rubber hat because they seldom get their hair wet and couldn't perform a tumble-turn if their lives depended on it so don't need a nose clip either. They do, however, know each other's names and are good sports in navigating round slower swimmers and helping less able people up and down the steps. You can always tell a slow-lane swimmer because they test the water before getting in and have some stock phrases to share about their toe-led temperature research once they are in.

In the middle lane are the "middle management" class of swimmers. The fast lane is too - fast - and the slow lane isn't enough of a stretch. The middle lane is the narrowest of the lanes and also the splashiest as the fast lane people are blissfully unaware of the tidal waves they create next door as they splash-and-thrash. 

The middle lane swimmers are very earnest and well behaved. The best view of the clock on the wall is from the middle lane, so they tend to swim by time with strokes that are invariably careful and controlled. A middle lane swimmer will always know how long they have been in, how many lengths they have done and how that compares to yesterday's performance. They consult their smart watches, set their own goals and quietly get on with their self-set challenges. 

In my curious, quirky fashion, I find myself wondering whether the lane that we choose in which to swim has any correlation with how we choose to live our lives once we are all dry and fully clothed? After all, I doubt that fish consciously recognise the water they swim in.

Do I swim with speedy oblivion in the fast lane? Potter with pleasure in the slow lane? Or stay safely in the narrow middle lane? 

What would it be like if I used the pool in a different way and swam across the lanes in widths, instead of lengths? What if there were no lanes and we all rebelled one morning and robbed the pool of the floating markers in one combined act of liberation?

I am left thinking that perhaps the lane itself doesn't really matter. What does matter for me is the nature of conscious choice about my current lane and the consequences for me, and others, in making that choice. Are there times when I lose my sense of self and stay too long in the fast lane, with my ears covered by a rubber hat, my eyes covered by goggles and a further sense blocked off by a nose-clip?

When do I limit myself by staying too safe in the middle lane - not taking risks and not pushing my boundaries?

What am I likely to miss if I spent too little time in the slow lane - with no flip-flops with sparkly bits and awareness or time for acknowledging and caring for others around me?

In correlating my swimming thoughts to my own life experience, these are fundamental questions that I intend to live in for a while.  

How are you choosing to keep your head above water?