Reflections on the Twelfth Week of Spring

Tuesday, June 2, my body surprised me by screaming, “What the hell are you doing?” I'd never heard it talk and definitely didn't expect it to swear. I was slipping into the pool for the second day in a row. Determined to increase my swimming to three times a week for the aerobic exercise the rheumatologist prescribed, I ignored the body complaining, “But you did this yesterday” and swam a half mile. This past week I swam three days again. Monday's clouds and rain kept my line-dry-only suit damp for Tuesday's swim. I slipped into the cold wet garment and into the pool–no comments from my body. Hands cupped, arms pulling, and legs kicking like a frog, I swam the half mile in thirty-three minutes. Thursday, because I'd spent the morning on the computer making airline, rental car, and B&B reservations for Ellen and Chris' wedding celebration, I was too late to warm up with the laps that keep me panting through my deep water fitness class. I adapted. I moved arms and legs quickly and forcefully. Conversation about President McKinley leading a cow up the steps of Bentley Bell Tower, when he was an Allegheny College student, distracted me till someone explained a rope and tackle hoisted the cow to the ground. I resumed pushing for the aerobic benefit of preventing flare-ups. Back at Wells Wood, Spence surprised me with another benefit. “Cute legs,” he whispered.