6:30 AM Refugee
A 6:30 am refugee from our warm kitchen, I was thinking about how invisible blocks in the mind can stop you from trying something new. I had just emerged from the changing shed into the dark, having decided to give the outside fifty metre pool a try instead of the usual twenty five metre that I swam. As I walked across the tiles, I looked for a place that was open enough to view from the pool, to place my gear bag there. The signs around Jellie Park warned you about thieves although I thought thieves wouldn't be good at getting up this early for physical exercise.
The chlorine from the pool was rising in mist off the surface, mixing in the darkness and floating towards my nose. I then assessed the lanes for one that wasn't too crowded and didn't have someone who was a powerful swimmer who would want to keep passing me. The plastic red and white discs of the lane seperaters dipped from the edge and lead off down both sides into the dimness of the middle lane, the one I had chosen.
I imagined that this pool would be colder than the inside pools but I decided not to think too much about it. Pulling on the rubbery headgear, I fastened my googles with a slap of water from the pool to help seal them, to my face. I dived cleanly into the water.
The cool water crisped up my skin as I free-styled the first twenty. The outside pool was certainly different I discovered as I cleaved through swirling mixes of chilly water and then warmer threads. As I settled into the rhythm of the swimming lane I learned that the mental block I had about the pool was only a minor eddy in the whirlpool of life. The fifty metre was great. The tower lights dappled the bottom of the pool in patterns, you don't have to turn direction so often and it was much quieter than the inside pool, just the tempo sounds of my inhaling, fingertips hitting the water and exhaling underwater.
Half-way through the swim I said a cheery good morning to the hawk on the metal ladder tower who was huddled in her red and black jacket against the chilled air. The sunrise was creeping up behind her back and across the silhouette of the pool buildings and starting to hit the tops of the trees around the pool. The light patterns on the pool floor through my googles were even more interesting. Just the thing I like on a long swim, a few thoughts floating through the depths in my mind, but nothing serious.
As I picked up my bag and looked back at the pool the sunrise was hardening a line of light halfway down the trees and the water was gaining blue colour in response. Two kilometres of exercise finished and a new experience started, not world shattering but I gratefully decided that the fifty metre was good times that would be repeated.
[Success Criteria: In this recount writing we tried to use the five senses and some similes. We focused on telling a story, and slowing down the action. Some of us tried to use good sound words also.]
The chlorine from the pool was rising in mist off the surface, mixing in the darkness and floating towards my nose. I then assessed the lanes for one that wasn't too crowded and didn't have someone who was a powerful swimmer who would want to keep passing me. The plastic red and white discs of the lane seperaters dipped from the edge and lead off down both sides into the dimness of the middle lane, the one I had chosen.
I imagined that this pool would be colder than the inside pools but I decided not to think too much about it. Pulling on the rubbery headgear, I fastened my googles with a slap of water from the pool to help seal them, to my face. I dived cleanly into the water.
The cool water crisped up my skin as I free-styled the first twenty. The outside pool was certainly different I discovered as I cleaved through swirling mixes of chilly water and then warmer threads. As I settled into the rhythm of the swimming lane I learned that the mental block I had about the pool was only a minor eddy in the whirlpool of life. The fifty metre was great. The tower lights dappled the bottom of the pool in patterns, you don't have to turn direction so often and it was much quieter than the inside pool, just the tempo sounds of my inhaling, fingertips hitting the water and exhaling underwater.
Half-way through the swim I said a cheery good morning to the hawk on the metal ladder tower who was huddled in her red and black jacket against the chilled air. The sunrise was creeping up behind her back and across the silhouette of the pool buildings and starting to hit the tops of the trees around the pool. The light patterns on the pool floor through my googles were even more interesting. Just the thing I like on a long swim, a few thoughts floating through the depths in my mind, but nothing serious.
As I picked up my bag and looked back at the pool the sunrise was hardening a line of light halfway down the trees and the water was gaining blue colour in response. Two kilometres of exercise finished and a new experience started, not world shattering but I gratefully decided that the fifty metre was good times that would be repeated.
[Success Criteria: In this recount writing we tried to use the five senses and some similes. We focused on telling a story, and slowing down the action. Some of us tried to use good sound words also.]
