Swimming

I can't swim. Rather let me rephrase. I didn't think I could swim.

Enter: Taking swim lessons at 29.

Now, I'm married to a swim lesson instructors instructor. Meaning he teaches people how to teach swim lessons. He's a great swimmer and teacher, yet I could not bring myself to listen to his instructions without getting annoyed.
So, I was stuck with doing the side stroke whenever I got the urge to swim.

That was last summer.

My wonderful friend, Jamie, says one day this summer, " Let's take swim lessons."

See, I had a thing about the breathing and the swimming and the breathing. It was just too much to put all together. It seemed so unnatural.

But, being the senseless person I am, I said, "Sure. Let's do it." Pretending to be excited.

So, last night was our first lesson. I was nervous. Not like crazy-hyperventilating nervous, but butterfly-in-the-stomach nervous.
I was nearly panicky nervous when she said, "Just put your face in and blow bubbles."

That stupid breathing thing!

Funny thing was I did it a few times and it wasn't too bad. Couldn't be cause 4 year olds can do that, right?

So, anyway, longer story long, I swam. With my face in the water, breathing and blowing out just like the pros...

Well, maybe not JUST like them.

I think I like swimming.