On Swimming

Brooklyn in July. Everywhere is hot. I fill a water bottle, put my swim suit on underneath a pair of shorts, throw my cap and goggles into a bag. I don’t bother packing a towel. It’s a forty minute walk from my apartment to Kosciuszko Pool. Some days, I will spend more time walking to and from this pool than I will swimming in it. I like the ritual. It reminds me of a pool in Seattle that I used to train in. Built in the middle of a park, on the shores of Puget Sound, it was a twenty-five minute walk from the nearest parking lot. I never got to practice on time.