This week I bumped into two separate stories about swimming in public pools. Both made me feel sick about it. One was an hilariously disgusting piece created by The Onion, America’s satiric news media outlet. Click through to make yourself queasy if you dare.
I laughed out loud reading that piece. But then I stumbled on a link from the Chicago Athlete Newsletter that featured a Chicago Tribune story about how swimming in lakes and public pools really can make you sick. That made me genuinely nervous.
The Tribune story concludes with this dandy bit of advice: “Swimming is a really great activity,” said Robinson. “No matter where (you are) swimming, try not to swallow the water.”
Oh, that’s wonderful. As, if…
Don’t swallow
Now, I try not to swallow any water while swimming in open water such as lakes. But the mere act of swimming in an open lake with other swimmers flailing around you guarantees that you’ll swallow at least some water during 15-30 minutes in the water.
At public pools, especially general public pools, the set-aside period for lap swimming isn’t even a guarantee that you’ll not gulp some water.
But what both these articles say is grotesque and simple: Basically we’re all licking the asses of everyone else who swims in the water. It is unlikely many people shower before they enter the pool. Those who do probably do not really soap up. So all those poopy, hairy-assed dingle-berries hanging around shady-ass buttholes are an incredibly gnarly source of all kinds of germs that can enter your system through your mouth, eyes and ears.
I mean, holy shit.
Leave it to The Onion
The Onion put it better: “Visibly alarmed CDC personnel explained that they received a disturbing report last week of a municipal park in Astoria, NY that contained what they described as “an in-ground reservoir filled with approximately 40,000 gallons of tepid water mixed with human sweat, body hair, bacteria, and mucus.” The officials stated that further investigation revealed dozens of similar cases in the surrounding area, touching off fears of a widespread epidemic.”
Still, most of us have swum in public pools all our lives. Occasionally we might get Swimmer’s Ear or an eye infection. But truly, we’re probably actually enhancing our immunity by immersing ourselves in all that germ-infested water. I’m beginning to believe that swimmers such as Michael Phelps are nothing more than overgrown nematodes that have sprung arms and legs. It’s happened before in evolution. Why not again?
Dirty deeds
Dirt alone won’t kill us. I recall the day I came into the living to find my year-old son with a funny look on his face and a ring of dirty around his mouth. He’d dug his hands into the soil of a living room plant and shoved it in his mouth. I laughed, scooped him up and cleaned out his throat. He suffered no ill effects.
Infected existence
But I haven’t always been so lucky with infections and such. I spent one whole summer fighting an infection known as c-Diff brought on by a cat bite that led to cellulitis that led to antibiotics that led to a gut compromised by the death of my good gut bacteria.
All I did that summer (two years ago) was crap a lot and pray that my gut would someday heal. But I still swam in Lake Zurich that summer but did not podium in the Sprint Triathlon.
So despite all the satire and the weird news about public pools that is real, I’ll not stop swimming in them or enjoying the occasional spin in a lake. We don’t live in a void in this world. The Onion tries to tell us that every day. We just need to listen.
It likely goes without saying that I don’t have a “plan” for this blog in terms of editorial content. Although I subscribe to some blog advice newsletters, and even paid for a yearlong seminar that I never used, the reason I write this blog is to feel connected to the things that matter to me in this world.
So I turned onto a sleek little road called Wenmoth and hit the higher gears for some speed work. Sue gave me her other Garmin to use from now on. I have not ridden with a cyclometer in more than two years. It was fun to be able to look down at the numbers and get empiric feedback again.
Which is why I don’t hold myself to too many editorial strictures on this blog. It’s about freedom of thought and expression. We Run and Ride has been going on for more than five years now. Original thoughts on running and riding. That’s how it started. And now swimming.
Anyone that has trained for an endurance event knows the value of extra sleep when you need it. But she had a question. “Does it bother you I’m unemployed right now?” she laughed.
I also loved how she dressed, alternating between feminine flair and athletic practicality, neither of which took long to accomplish. And that hat she donned at Churchill Downs? Just for a moment’s fun.
She also once dressed up as freaking Catwoman for Halloween, and rocked it. That floored me cause I was like… Meee-owww. And that whip? Don’t worry, she didn’t use it on me. And I wouldn’t tell you even if she did. LOL.
But the reason we were doing the relay in the first place was fallout from a bike accident that Sue had experienced while riding with me. On a slight downslope on a bike path through a moist woods, Sue’s front wheel on her tri-bike slipped on some wet debris.
It all came to a peak one day. We stopped and stood together during a run on a hot late summer day. She sobbed with fatigue and mental exhaustion at trying to overcome all the obstacles. I knew not to try to fix it all then and there.
But enough of this triathlon stuff. Let me tell you about how she dances. I feel like she makes the space she moves in come alive. On our wedding day a year ago, she absolutely owned the dress she wore and danced with friends and kids and me, and it was wonderful.
This life’s journey is like falling backward through time. We can’t see what’s ahead of us but we keep on going. The photo above was taken in England, the first time either of us ventured overseas. We have stretched ourselves in many ways, and I’m grateful for the energy she brings to life. It has fostered my own children, and I believe my influence has helped hers as well. That’s what life is about. Making it work.
Life is full of challenges ranging from money to work to family and friends. That juggle takes perspective, and it can really help to have someone you trust and love to help carry you through. It also helps if they happen to look great in bike shorts and hug you as if there’s no tomorrow.
I’ve been watching the first few stages of the Tour de France. One of the first dramatic storylines is Lawson Craddock, the Houston, Texas kid riding his first Tour. During a stage of the race, he was unfortunate to strike a full water bottle that fell on the road. At 45km per hour he had no chance to swerve or stop within the peloton. He wound up with a broken face and a fractured scapula (shoulder blade.)
The wonderfully weird thing about endurance sports, especially triathlon, is there’s really no such thing as age and gender when you’re out there on the course. As a sixty-year old dude I realize my fastest days as an endurance athlete are long over. But it doesn’t mean there’s not an opportunity to compete at whatever level one wants to choose.
For the past two weeks in Illinois we’ve had weather conditions that produce dramatic cloud patterns. While I haven’t had time enough to lie down and watch the clouds forming overhead, it has been possible to stick an arm out the window with iPhone in hand and snap a few photos of the clouds.
Clouds have the ability to both reflect and form our moods. Last night while driving back from a visit to home of my late wife’s mother, the clouds ahead divided the sky in two. Part of my mind was dark with memories of how long it’s been since I first knew the woman who is now slowly losing her memory. We’re still conversant, and I gave her a long hug telling her how much I loved the garden she still tends, and how it reminded me of the spirit of her daughter.
Back at home, the skies calmed and the clouds formed a series of faraway characters that seemed Disneyesque in their trio formation. I rode my bike far out in the fields toward the little town of Kaneville. I felt strong and was pedaling a high cadence the entire way.
It hasn’t been easy, learning to swim again. Three or four years ago the process began with 25-yard gasping efforts in a tiny little pool within the X-Sport fitness facility.
This morning on the way to work I arrived at a Stop sign where two major streets intersect at the edge of our town. The sun was directly ahead of me with beams pouring down the avenue. As my Subaru rolled to a stop, a young runner reached the corner and stopped for a moment, trying to figure out whether I was going to let him through or not. He was in the middle of a long line of slow-moving runners.
A true confession: I don’t drink coffee. Never have. Never will.
These days I stick to my chai tea and the Frozen Hot Chocolate I allow myself to savor after purchasing ten other drinks at 
