Back and Forth

I swim every weekday morning. Although it’s a good way to keep moving —especially when the ground is icy and the wind cold— I find that swimming laps is boring. Back and forth. It’s a slog. Back and forth.

I used to count laps to make sure I’d complete my daily goal, but often I’d forget whether I was on lap twenty-five or twenty-nine.

Now I just swim for a certain length of time.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Although my newer system is less frustrating, it doesn’t make the laps more fun. One bleak January morning when the snow was swirling, I had to struggle to convince myself to leave my flannel sheets and go to the pool. “Sure, it’s cold outside. Sure, swimming laps is boring. Just do it!” I grabbed my swim bag, pushed my feet into boots, and trudged to the car. Inside the gym, I shed my coat and thought about going home. “No, I’m going to do this,” I vowed.

“Back and forth. It’s boring. But that won’t stop me. Back and forth.” I pulled on my swim goggles and stepped into the water. Brr! It was colder than usual. I’d have to swim hard to stay warm. “Back and forth. Back and forth,” I said grimly as I pushed off to fulfill my morning task. Arriving at the far end of the pool, I saw a yellow plastic duck perched at eye level on the edge of the pool, grinning at me.

Who left it there? I wondered. I returned the grin, made my turn, and swam back. My frustration vanished. Back. Grin. And forth.

I swam with joy because that silly duck greeted me each time I completed a lap —each time I was victorious over my boredom.

On my last lap, I began to wonder whether I could be like that duck. Could I be there for others, cheering them on and offering my support? Changing their lives?

Denise Dick Herr