The Social System of the Public Pool

Two weeks ago, I began swimming for exercise. When I started, I hadn't entered a body of water bigger than a bath tub for over 30 years. This wasn't an entirely conscious decision as I had moved to an enormous metropolis after having grown up in a remote rural area and it never occurred to me to seek out a man-made means of getting my swim on. In fact, up until my recent foray into the chemical waters of the local swimming facility, I had never been in a public pool. I had only swum in natural bodies of water.

The truth is that, because I had only swam in lakes and rivers before, I was apprehensive about what was to come. There are all of these little things about navigating the experience which I felt anxious about. Every body of water I'd ever entered or departed had a sloping point of entry, not a diving board or steps. The spaces weren't laid out in neat rows or confined in such a way that one had to be concerned about running into or inconveniencing other swimmers. I also swam with family or childhood friends and none of us had ever had a swimming lesson. That meant no one had anything resembling technique and there was no judging going on. Usually, it was just frolicking, cooling, soaking, and horseplay.

Our current apartment is, quite fortunately, near a pool that offers free swimming for "seniors" from 11:00-11:45 am. Even better still for us is that their definition of "senior citizen" starts at 50 and I turned that very age at the end of August. They do allow non-senior people to swim from noon to 1:30 pm as well for the price of $3.00, but those hours don't work quite so well for my husband and I so we're part of the semi-geriatric and fully geriatric set flapping their flabby, wrinkly arms from 11:00. It's only fair that those of us with bat-wing upper arms flock together as birds of a feather.

Even though I was likely to be with people who were far from Olympic in form or substance, I was nervous about my first foray into a man-made pool, especially one so full of men (and women). Fortunately, my husband was along for the ride and supported me both with information and moral encouragement. When I was afraid of how I'd get under the lane dividers, he told me how to do it such that I felt more comfortable crossing lanes to climb out. When I expressed concern that I'd lack the upper body strength to climb out of the ladder, he told me that it wasn't as hard as it looked, even when one was sopping wet. He also explained the guidelines, such as they are, for which lanes and how to behave in them in general. It's commonly understood, for instance, that the outer lanes are for the slower swimmers and the center ones are more for the faster ones.

The first time I swam, I had to rest and catch my breath fairly often. I'm not in bad shape, but swimming is fairly aerobic exercise and I tend to just walk for movement. After swimming seven times, I'm finding that my stamina is increasing at a pretty rapid pace as my muscles get used to the type of stress they are being put under. Of course, I'm pushing myself a little every time because that's the only way to improve. I can't say the same is happening with some of the other people who I started with a fortnight ago.

My first day at the pool was spent in the very first lane from the edge. This lane is only four and a half feet deep along three sides and is good for those with disabilities or who are scared because they've been away from this form of exertion for three decades or so. It's also used almost entirely by older women so I was in what I felt was good company. During those first three runs, I had no idea what I was in for and I've since learned that there is a unique social system concentrated in those lanes.

First of all, certain women seem to make it their habit to plant themselves at the ends of the pool (where the water is shallow and the ladders to get in and out are located) and just sit there. They'll bob up and down a bit on occasion or swim a third- or half-lap or the already half-sized lane then retreat back to their corner for some more chatting. During my first two excursions, I had problems actually breaking free from the conversational needs of some of these ladies as they had me trapped there while I caught my breath.

One of these ladies looked to be in her late 60's to early 70's - though it's impossible to truly read age when someone is wearing tinted goggles and a swim cap - and she told me she was from Venice originally. I had a hard time understanding her because ear plugs are in place and water is being splashed about and lapping the edges, but that did not deter her from telling me that water was everywhere when she was growing up so, of course, she could swim, but not properly. She went to swimming lessons with her grand kids to pick up the proper technique and, since swimming was such good exercise, she was there to improve her health.

Since that day, I've moved over several lanes and am now strong enough to swim laps with my husband, though I still need to stop and catch my breath a little after every two or three laps. While my breaks are getting shorter, the old Italian lady who is there for her health spends about 20% of the time moving about a bit in the water and 80% sitting on he end or chatting. I find myself wondering how much health improvement she's getting from so little actual activity and, if she learned how to swim properly, why she's never swam in my presence at all. I've seen her do a little doggie paddle a few times, but that's it.

Mind you, I am not criticizing her for her pool behavior, but rather it her behavior operates in opposition to her professed desire to improve her health through swimming. Even if I were inclined to think that treating the senior swimming time as a chance to casually hang out and gossip, I couldn't say that without being out of line. This is because the whole point is that anything goes during senior swim time.

In fact, sometimes, the "anything goes" mentality is to the point of being ridiculous. People use snorkels on their mouths and noses, fins on their feet, and paddles on their hands so they can chug along faster than they naturally could. They use flotation devices and slowly and lazily swim on their backs down the middle of lanes. They are permitted to do this, but, as my husband has said, he's not sure what the point is of using artificial means to gain speed. It you're not getting there on your own, you're not burning the same type of energy and this is not a race. Not one of those people is competing on an aging team and is in need of augmentation to up their game.

One of the most obnoxious users of the external devices is a woman who I call the "snorkel steamboat". She chugs along propped on a flotation device with her head barely under water sufficiently to need a snorkel and kicks up an enormous froth with her legs. This creates an enormous amount of splash as she propels herself along largely under the steam of her devices. I'm not a fan of any of the people who I term "splash masters" as they often send water up my nose or into my mouth while I'm trying to get some business done without the aid of external devices.

Beyond the chatty sorts and the device monkeys, there are a handful of glamor girls. These are aging former beauties who still hold much of their former form and wouldn't sully their appearance with swim caps or goggles. One of them, who came up to me after my second swim and suggested I get some tinted goggles - a conclusion I'd already reached - said she rarely swims at all because her hair is so terribly long (then what on earth is she doing there?). Another doggie paddles her way back and forth at a pace that makes even my sluggishness seem a little fast while holding hair clear of the water. When she gets in or out, she's constantly scanning the crowd for recognition of her fading hotness among the flabbier, bulgier sorts in the mix. Her self-conscious way of carrying herself, her choice of swimsuit design, and the way she seems to just be waiting for someone to pay attention to her scream that she expects to be noticed. 

It's clear to me that there is an established order among these people who have been going to the pool for some time and they know what's what. The women who aren't inclined to raise their heart rates hang around the edges and chat. Some of them treat it like their backyard pool on a hot day and just lounge around. Men tend to be much more efficient and swim laps, though even some of them seem to think it's a great time to chat up young lifeguards while they hang around at the edges. Serious swimmers and those who would like to be serious about it (like me) have to congregate in the more central areas if they want to avoid the cliques that form at the end and edges. Even then, you can find that sluggards will make their way into the matrix and jam up the works if they're inclined to do so.

I thought that the whole swimming business was going to be a mechanistic one. One goes to the pool to carry out a task and does it as well as possible. I didn't think about the fact that social groups will form when you put a bunch of people together even when the target activity is a fairly individual one. It's interesting to observe how people go about the business of swimming with so little focus on the actual swimming and so much focus on the people themselves.