Life in the Medium Lane

I was the first person waiting outside the Y for it to open this morning. The second person was a little old lady with a pink swim noodle. We nodded at each other politely. In the few minutes before the doors opened, twenty or so more people lined up behind us. I remained the youngest early bird by a good 30 years.

After the old lady and I swiped in, we both headed for the elevator. I hesitated for just a minute--considering the size of my bike and the width of the stairs--and in that instant, the old lady tried to close the elevator doors on me.

"Can I squeeze in?" I asked, thrusting my front tire forward to block the doors.

She waved me through curtly.

After I locked my bike up on the gym's roof, I sprinted down the stairs to change into my swimsuit (yes, I had to buy a new one after my ancient Speedo could not be located). See, after my moment of bravado in which I said I might do a triathlon with my girlfriend Tiffany, I had a second moment of bravado where I actually signed up and paid money to do a triathlon with my girlfriend Tiffany. Now that I've paid for it, I'm sure to follow through. Which means, I have to start swimming. And biking. And running more. But mostly swimming.

"Oh, wonderful!" my 87-year-old grandmother said when I told her what I was doing. "I remember going to your swim meets... when was that?"

"When I was 8 and swam for the Shawnee Sharks," I replied.

"You'll be fine, sweetie," Nana said. "I just know it."

My dad expressed less confidence, much like the time I told him Tiffany and I were going to replace my mom's leaky toilet ("Rebecca," he said. "This is a no-brainer. Call a plumber.").

"Whoo," he said, "that swim's going to be tough."

Anyway, that's why I've been at the Y every morning for the past week, doing my damnedest to swim exactly 1/2 mile without stopping. I'm very slow. Which is why I was sprinting from my bike to the pool. I had a feeling I knew where the little old lady was going.

Sure enough, as I came dripping out of the shower, she was shuffling along with her noodle toward the slow lane.

"Are you going in the slow lane?"I asked, looking over my shoulder at the "activity" pool where all the other little old ladies were bouncing around on their noodles.

"Yes," she said, snapping her swim cap around her head.

I looked reluctantly at the medium lane, considered diving into the slow lane before the old lady could make her way down the ladder, and then thought better of it.

"Today, I'm medium," I whispered to myself as I eased into the water.

And, you know what, all things being relative, I really was medium. While I adjusted my goggles, the little old lady straddled her noodle and began to paddle backwards down the length of the pool.

I looked like lightning next to her.