Parity

Feb 16 2010

I was at parity the day this word came up. I was level pegging between blogs and the number of days for which I was supposed to have written. Now I'm not. Bugger.

Nor is there really any sensible connection* between the speed people swim and which lane they choose at swimming pools. I went for a swim tonight at the centre near my work, plopped myself into the middle lane (there are two) since I am not a slow coach but clearly couldn't qualify as fast. I'm a brisk average.

Unfortunately, the lane was clogged with the “decrepit average”, or the sloth that dare not speak its name. After a few attempts to work up any head of steam, I stopped in the shallow end and reviewed my options. Both middle lanes seemed just as densely populated with the human equivalent of an oil slick, floating pointlessly about on the surface of the water and doing nothing but harm. I'm pretty sure I saw one fat bloke strangling a cormorant.

The fast lane had human dolphins leaping out of the water in a shower of diamond droplets, grinning broadly and blowing air from the tops of their heads (inflating their swimming caps like novelty balloons). If I tried to swim with them they'd butt me in the gills until I bled.

The solution lay in pride. Not clinging to it. Abandoning it. There was one person in the slow lane. One. And he was probably outstripping most of his “middling” comrades. So I joined him and had a nice swim for 20 minutes before some old ladies got in and started impersonating polar bears swimming between ice floes.

Pride only hurts. It never helps. Guys – you're slow. Embrace it. And if you don't like it, fucking swim faster.

* or between the title word and the contents of this article. What the hell.