French Open, here I come!

Rafael Nadal just won the French Open. He was off the courts last year because of a knee injury, and today was biting his trophy in triumph. His victory confirmed my own resolve to fix my knee. If he won the French Open this year, then, with steady therapy and swimming and cycling, I can win it next year. Or, if not the French Open, I'll definitely be able to dance on tables with my friends again.

On Saturday, I went for an early morning swim. I woke up at 6 to make my sister eggs before the SATs, but she ended up eating Cocoa Puffs so I ate an egg on toast myself. Since driving aggravates my knee, my mother drove me to the Y. The lifeguard stared at me as I timidly walked into the pool. I walked over to her to confirm that this was the open lap swim. She smiled, and said, "Yes, but it is the Ladies Swim." I blinked. And then I realized the problem. "Oh! Well I am 21. I know I look young, but..." And my voice trailed off in hopes that she would stop suspecting me of traversing age boundaries and just let me swim. She seemed confused. "No, it's not that, it's just that it is Ladies Swim. That is the nature of the swim." I looked down to make sure that I had not developed into a man, and then looked back at her, and shrugged.

There were many old ladies in the pool, all in floral, ruffled bathing suits. I thought maybe the lifeguard was trying to tell me that the nature of the swim was slow, relaxed. I started swimming, and since I was kicking with only one leg, I grew tired very quickly. The seemingly docile women began to lap me. I decided to push myself further; I didn't want to give up just yet. I needed to work out double the time to even get half the workout for my knee, since it was barely doing any work. I refused to cede to the reversal of fortune (the aged lapping the youth) and stayed in the fast lane, ultimately hit women in the head as they caught up with me and I was furiously kicking my left leg to compensate for the immobile right. I managed to stay in the pool 3 times longer than the night before. Some of the ladies who had suffered blows ended up leaving the pool 3 times earlier.

Apparently, slow and steady wins the race. While this isn't a competition, and I am just trying to rehabilitate myself to live life like a 21 year old again, so I can dance with my friends and go shopping with my sister and walk in the park with my mother and learn tennis with my dad, I wouldn't mind if things got a little heated. One day soon, I am going to beat the little old ladies at their game. Until then, I'll just swim slowly and steadily with one leg.