Pool duel

The other day, I read a blog post about aqua jogging that reminded me of an interesting experience I had at the campus pool in college.

I’ve never really been a fan of indoor pools. There’s just something about the hot, muggy, chlorine-saturated air that doesn’t sit well with me. But when you’re an injured college runner at a school that devotes little to none of its athletics budget to track and field, your rehab training options are somewhat limited.

So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I dragged my grouchy, sleep-deprived self out of bed at 5:45 a.m. so I could make it to the pool by 6:15—the only time our team could be squeezed into the busy pool schedule according to the friendly, helpful people in pool management.

I usually arrived for workouts still half-asleep and severely under-caffeinated. I’m sure I racked up an atrocious number of unseen, and therefore unpunished, traffic violations over the course of my months-long pool running regimen. I vaguely recall missing a red light and then thinking, “Oh well. It’s not like anyone else is out tooling around campus at SIX IN THE DAMN MORNING!” (The capital letters and swearing are for dramatic emphasis only. In truth, I don’t have enough energy to yell curse words at six in the morning.)

One day, I staggered into the locker room in a particularly foul mood. I can’t quite recall why—perhaps I had been up late studying for a test the night before. Or—more likely—maybe I had awoken to discover that I was out of my usual pre-pool breakfast food: Honey Bunches of Oats.

I sluggishly removed my sweats and my Ugg boots, sighing and rolling my eyes at just about everything I saw—from the puddles on the floor to the piles of unguarded clothes and towels on the benches—for no reason other than my strong desire to jump back into my warm, comfy bed instead of a cold, artificial, chlorine-filled hole in the ground.

I walked into the pool area wearing my usual aqua jogging attire: a pair of black spandex shorts and a black sports bra. Many of my teammates wore similar outfits. I definitely didn’t plan on making a habit out of pool running once I was injury-free, so I figured purchasing actual swimwear would be a waste of money. Plus, I hate one-piece swimsuits. Anyone with an abnormally long torso like mine knows exactly what I’m talking about (cough…wedgie…cough).

After grabbing a flotation belt, I made my way to the ladder, where I planned on entering the pool using the Slow-and-Torturous Method. (For some reason, I always thought I could make it through the workout without getting my hair wet, so I never jumped in.) Just as I put my left foot on the top rung, I was approached by the lifeguard on duty.

Bratty Lifeguard: Um, excuse me, is that a swimsuit you’re wearing?

Me: Well, it’s just spandex shorts and a sports bra, so technically, no.

Bratty Lifeguard: [Crossing her arms] Uh huh. The thing is, we have rules here, and all swimmers are required to have regulation swimwear.

Me: [Astonished at Bratty Lifeguard’s blatantly discourteous tone] OK, well I’ve been coming here for several weeks now, and there was never a problem before. And I’m not swimming, I’m pool running.

Bratty Lifeguard: Well if you’re not going to wear the appropriate attire, I’m afraid I’m going to have to remove you from the pool.

Me: [Lowering arms with palms facing outward] This is what I came in today. I don’t have a swimsuit to change into.

Bratty Lifeguard: [Motioning toward the lost and found area] We have a few on hand that you are welcome to borrow.

Me: [Mouth agape in obvious shock and disgust] I’m sorry, am I to understand that you would like me to wear a used swimsuit?

Bratty Lifeguard: If you want to be allowed in the pool today, then yes.

Me: [With an expression that says, “Bitch, are you kah-razy?”] I don’t recall seeing this rule posted anywhere on the premises of this facility, nor did I sign an agreement containing a list of restricted apparel. And I am certainly NOT wearing a used bathing suit. That is just gross.

Bratty Lifeguard: [Backing off as she realizes her little power trip is doomed to failure] Well then…I, um, I guess it’s OK for today. But in the future—

Before she could finish her sentence, I plunged into the pool, cannonball style. I didn’t look back to see if she got hit by my splash. Either way, it was sooooooo worth getting my hair wet.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, I never did buy a “regulation swimsuit,” whatever that is.