I stood in the changing room, shivering, feeling self-conscious in my swimsuit. It had been hard for me to leave my warm, comfortable home on a snowy night, then take off my winter coat, just to change out of my slacks and top to squeeze into a tight swimsuit.  The air at the YMCA was comfortably warm, but the memory of having walked across an icy parking lot to enter the building only moments before made me shudder. Acknowledging that having come this far, I needed to take the next step. I opened the door and entered the pool area.

Less than a dozen people were swimming in the large pool. I remembered taking a swimming class in that pool many years ago. The water had been so cold, it caused my lips to turn blue. I backed away and turned towards the nearby small hot tub. Thinking it would feel nice to soak in that pool for several minutes, I took one step down into the water.

My feet were cold from recently been outdoors, so the water in the hot tub pool felt dangerously hot to my skin. I quickly stepped out of the water thinking ruefully, “Now I know how a lobster feels when it is dropped into boiling water!”

Through a glass door, I saw another pool. It wasn’t as big as the first pool, nor as small as the hot tub pool. No one was in that pool, and the door was locked. Once, many years ago, I’d taken an elderly woman to an exercise class in it for arthritic people. What I remembered was that the water in that pool was comfortably warm.

A lifeguard unlocked the door so I could use the medium-sized pool. The water temperature was perfect, just as I remembered. Submerging up to my neck, I circled my arms, marched back and forth in the pool. Hanging on the pool edge, I paddled my legs. For the first time that evening, I was glad that I’d left my home to come to the YMCA.

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