Swimming stereotypes and other offensive observations

There is not much that I feel qualified to bitch about (ok, yes, not that that stops me!) But swimming I can. Years of training and sitting on the side of pools freezing your butt off and waiting for your race to be called means that you have earned this privilege. Even the memories make me shiver. Nowadays, I love a good swim, but often only once I actually arrive there. Getting me to a pool is a little like trying to take a cat to the vet...

The other day, the heat was such that I consented to visit the public pool in Victoria Park. Its a lovely oasis of calm stuck between two quite major roads. After the initial welcome cool of the water, and the wonderful stretching of my atrophied muscles, I settled in the shallows for a breather, and to observe my fellow swimmers. It became obvious quite quickly that there was little difference between the dynamic of English and Australian pools. Despite the surroundings...

Generally, the participants can be divided into a few distinct categories (not counting the normal people, like us, of course):

• The overenthusiast - who has all the right kit, but doesn't have the technique or speed to back it up. They will use the diving board when no-one else is, sending shock waves around the pool, and commit other such fauxpas as taking off too soon after the previous swimmer just so they can overtake and feel smug. The fact that they can't keep this pace up and proceed to hold up the whole lane of other polite swimmers who don't want to damage their seemingly fragile ego, seems to pass them by.
• The determined weight controller - overly dedicated to their goal. Ranging from the overly muscular middle aged women who react fiercely to anyone who glances their way, to the sincere crew of overweight flounderers who seem to manage to get in everyone's way but at least smile about it.
• The terrifying older man - these occur far too often. Probably harking back to an athletic youth, they plough a furrow down the middle of the lane, glaring (or swearing) at those who take them on. They often choose a deliberately offensive stroke (such as butterfly, or sidestroke) and then surge forward like an angry walrus engulfing all in their path. It is likely that the man we came across this week actually had a condition such as tourettes - he was so gratuitously offensive to everyone that the whole lane cleared. The fact that he then moved lane in search of new prey made is clear that swimming wasn't his primary motive.
• The embarrassed parent - as their offspring ignore the 'free play' lane and run amok, tangling with other swimmers and screaming like a banshee. They will often slip and fall on the wet concrete - a life lesson learnt? No, an excuse to scream for an icecream, or a slushee. The parent may manage one awkward length of the pool themselves before being called back to shiver near the steps and hope vehemently that their child doesn't hurt anyone else (the child's safety by this stage less of a concern). These children were momentarily stunned the other day by the appearance of an adult in their lane. Given that he had rippling muscles and tattoos of rifles on both thighs (clearly visible due to speedo attire) I wasn't surprised at the odd looks he was getting.

In an outdoor pool, you also meet the sunbakers. Of which, in a place like Australia, there are hundreds. They congregate at the pool with no intention of getting wet, setting up their towels in locations where they are likely to be splashed or dripped on, and can then make a fuss about it. They are often the beautiful people of the world, which immediately causes consternation among those more normal bodied folks and creates an atmosphere of unease and insecurity. This week, I witnessed the wonder of the avid tanner, who sprayed oil on herself and lay prone for hours, occasionally shooting hate rays at the girl next to her who was about 5 shades darker. Having only seen her from the back, it seemed unlikely that this sunbather had realised that her neighbour was quite clearly of African descent and hence was likely to remain darker than her, no matter how hard she tried...

We also had the entertainment of about 6 trainee divers, who disappeared into the deep end to lurk under the water, looking up in envy at the carefree swimmers who weren't being called on to perform such tasks as removing your mask underwater. This, I remember from my own training days, is pretty tricky the first few times. Made more so by the fact that you have already surveyed the debris that litters the bottom of the pool - hair in ragged clumps, old plasters, more snot than you can every imagine - and so are even more reluctant to perform said task. Persist my friends, it will be worth it when you reach the sea. Which, while it has been described as 'nature's toilet', is at least large enough that the litter has dispersed into manageable portions.