Swimming: Thoughts & Floating / the one where i learnt to float

image from pexel

The air felt heavy with chemicals. It smelt like cleaning agents. It was chlorine.

“Hi, Temmy. The changing room is downstairs. Take a shower then come out to the pool let’s start training.” My instructor said with so much excitement splattered all over his face. I think he enjoys his job a lot. That made me happy. I took a shower, changed into my speedo swim short, wore my bra top — I couldn’t find any trunk that I liked — and my swim cap. I had tried out my swim goggles before I left the house but with the complete fit, I had a feeling Micheal Phelps was shaking at his apartment. I looked like I was meant to be here.

I was trunked and ready to get some strokes!

It felt awkward walking with my bare feet on the rough concrete, I don’t remember the last time that happened. Everyone was walking with their bare feet — good lord it felt strange. When I’m indoors, I wear slippers because the cold floor can make me sick. Plus, I just don’t like walking with my bare feet. So, as you would imagine, it felt weird — really weird. However, the excitement enveloped me the moment I stepped out of the changing room to the pool area. Sunlight danced on the rippling surface of the water, it was blue and magnificent. I watched other swimmers glide into the water, make big splash. I even spotted some lovers at the left wing, one was teaching the other how to do a backstroke, I thought it was naughty and cute. Seemingly weightless bodies and laughter echoed across the pool.

I was smiling from ear to ear, it was a new environment and I loved it immediately. I thought to myself that I did not only buy a swim goggle, I’ll also be swimming with it — that felt thrilling.

Soon after, apprehension clothed me and I lost my smile. I was scared when I heard “Step into the water”. That was my instructor.

I took a deep breath, held on to the swim staircase ring and proceeded down the steps carefully, with the water rising above my skin with each step I took.

My fear is not of the water itself, it was of how uncertain I felt in that moment — the thought that water is deep, alluring yet terrifying and can drown me. For split seconds, I imagined how it would feel to drown and it scared me but, i kept walking into the water. At this point, the water has moved up to my chest, my feet were touching the floor of the pool, it felt like a trampoline material. And chills ran through my spine. I was terrified, I didn’t think I would be. My heart raced while the water moved, I held on to the stairs, took three deeps breaths, remembered a particular instructor on tiktok saying to feel the water and let it feel you too. I loosened my grip on the stairs, ran my fingers through the water, copped some and watched it trickle down my right palm. I looked up to my instructor, ready and muttered to him, “let’s do this.”

Micheal Phelps clapped for me at that moment, I felt it (jk).

My instructor, a boy with a white face — this was from swimming — and artificial badly done pink lips had a reassuring smile, patiently told me to relax and just move in the water, taking steps to and fro and just keep walking in the water. I did this back and forth twenty times. I reached the edge of the other side of the pool and he asked that I submerge my head in the water and bring it right back out, he said to do this ten times.

Slowly, I submerged myself while holding the edge, the water rising up to meet the middle of my head, an unfamiliar pressure against my skin. I could feel water rush into my ear but not in an uncomfortable way. Sounds turned to a muffle, all I could hear was the sound water made when people are in it. I came up for air and went back in, continued till I completed the cycle. The next stage was to stay under the water for as long as I can while he counted. Twenty seconds was my highest count, I was proud of it but now as I write, I think I still have a long way to go.

The next phase was to hold on to the ledge and flap my legs till I felt myself floating — this was the hardest part for me as I was too focused on moving with the water, I forgot to actually let go and do it freely. At first, I couldn’t get myself to float. It took several tries and assistance from other swimmers in the pool — holding my belly and lifting me up with little effort — but I did it. I think I did it wrongly for a while ’cause my waist and legs started to hurt, it felt like I had been riding a bicycle for hours or having a leg-day at the gym. It felt like an exercise, I didn’t think swimming was strenuous until that day. My heart would race very fast as I flapped my legs, I wasn’t sure if it was a bad approach or my bad lungs alerting me but I kept at it.

My friend, D — a navy and good swimmer — mentioned that being on the skinny side meant negative buoyancy in swimming. This simply means — more body fat, easier floating and less body fat, tuff floating.

Swimmers have so much core strength and flexibility, I was only just realising that — and it amused me.

A giggle escaped my lips — I was floating!

The first flaps were awkward, my limbs flailing with uncertainty. But with each repetition, a rhythm emerged. The water, once an adversary, became my partner, supporting and guiding my movements. Fear transformed into focus, the desire to flap faster so i’m well balanced on the water filled my thoughts.

Next was swimming through the length of the pool, from one end to the other. The taxing part was dunking my head into water and kicking the back of my tip-toe on the wall, under the water. This was to help propel me forward faster and save time that I used in swimming across one end. I couldn’t trust my legs or my head fully under the water. The muffled voices above me scared me and I quickly come up for air. I was running out of breathe quickly because I was holding it — I didn’t know how to take in a lot of air before dunking my head into the water, then dispensing it slowly through my nose or mouth in the water — and still don’t know how not to well (yet).

But, I did it. I finally allowed myself get propelled by the water. A kick and a dive after, got midway and went on flapping my legs, my hands stretched forward with the right palm placed on the left palm. I swam all the way to the other end of the pool. It was after rewatching a video I asked the instructor to make of me that I noticed I was not swimming straight. The first time I managed to push off the wall and glide across the pool, even for a few shaky seconds, was a moment of pure elation.

I closed my eyes and let the water take hold. The fear began to ebb, replaced by a strange sense of serenity. It felt like being suspended in midair — the weight of my body nonexistent.

The cheers from the instructor and fellow learners felt like applause for a personal victory. Swimming did not come naturally to me like Tina; a beginner swimmer like me who could stay underwater for sixty seconds while I did twenty. There were countless stumbles, gulps of water (i hated this part, totally disgusting), and frustrating moments of stagnation. But with each practice, my confidence grew. I learned to trust the water, to embrace its embrace. I tried again. Again and again.

The fear I once felt transformed into a healthy respect, a recognition of its power and my own newfound capabilities.

Swimming became more than just a physical skill; it became a metaphor for facing my fears and pushing beyond my perceived limitations. It taught me the power of perseverance, the joy of small victories, and the liberating feeling of overcoming self-doubt.

Water held me, it felt like magic. It was magical.

The water’s embrace taught me things — courage, resilience, and freedom of letting go — I’ll never forget. If there were a hundred levels to swimming, I’m currently at level three and i’m majorly glad that I dared to start.

I have not been to the pool this year as I’ve had exam, work and personal responsibilities clash. But, I’m largely looking forward to being in the pool again soon.

Now, clap for me.