Swim

After a long day, cold and pent up in a conference room I trudged up 23rd St. to the Foggy Bottom metro stop.  It was hot, about 92˚F with 82% humidity.  I pushed my way down into the metro's abyss along with the thousands of other brain-dead commuters.  I try not to think about the reality of where I am or how I am traveling because otherwise it would scare me too much.

I squatted down, leaning against the wall that divides the seat from the train's door.  I read my book:
Comfort by Brett C. Hoover, more on that in a subsequent post.  I got off at my stop and exited the metro station.  It was still hot as Hebes, except now it was raining.  People walked home like zombies.  Everybody knew where they were going but they seemed to lack emotion or purpose.  I got to my friend's apartment and quickly grabbed my things to go to the pool.  After 8 hours of sitting, I needed to move.  We walked to the pool, chatting, as friends do.

The pool was extremely crowded.  Not what I am used to, but then again, I normally attend the pool back home and at 6 in the morning.  It was really nice to see so many people swimming.  I shared a lane with 2 other men.  When we would coincide at the end of the lane, I would offer them to swim ahead of me, explaining that I was a slow swimmer.  One young guy said "Slow and steady wins the race, right?"  A huge smile came across my face, "that's right."

Thank you, cute swimmer man.  You and your 4 leaf clover tattoo on your left shoulder made my day.