Swimming

Believe it or not, I was an Olympic swimmer. Well, almost. Remember the year Jimmy Carter decided to boycott the Olympics? That was to be my year. I had forgotten how important swimming was to my life.
I swam for 7 years. By the time I reached 11th grade I was burnt out and quit. As I think back on those days, I remember the fun of the meets: the shave down parties the night before the meets, sneaking out of the hotel room in the middle of the night for a little "fun" and meeting my first boyfriend, Drew Clark. And I cannot forget those dreaded practices. Up at 4:00 a.m, bike to the pool, 2 hours of lap upon lap, upon lap, ride the bike home, shower and dress, catch the bus for school, home, bike to practice, lap upon lap upon lap (sometimes when our coach when in an incredibly bad mood we would have to wear shirts, shorts and socks during the evening practices), bike home, dinner, and then homework. I remember, only now, how I used to do a lot of thinking during laps. While I was supposed to focused on the swimming and the technique, my mind would drift to the events of the day or of my life. When my parents got divorced, I can remember crying during laps. It's amazing the things you forget over time.
On some Friday practices, when there was not a meet the next day, for fun, the coach would let us play water polo...with a greased watermelon. Builds strength, you know. However, come meet time, it was all worth it.
Standing behind the starting block, stretching, getting the nerves out, or, trying to psyche out the person in the lane next to you. The starter says, "ladies, step up." At that moment I would picture every inch of the race.
Back then there was no such thing as a Nike swim suit to make us glide through the water. Just the old lycra. One year, since my city's team colors were orange and black, we had orange bathing suits: they were see-through. I swam some of my fastest times that year....and made sure someone was at the finish line waiting for me with a towel. Sorry, went off topic there for a moment. We had to WORK to get to the end of the swim. We had no help from our "suits". I take nothing away from the swimmers of today, but somehow, it all seems a bit too easy.
Believe it or not, I was a good loser. I never blamed anyone but myself for my losses. If nothing else, the losses made me a stronger competitor. It made me hungry to win the next time.
Since I left the sport, I can rarely get in a swimming pool without doing laps. I've yet to learn how to kick back and enjoy the water. Mom has suggested I join the local "masters" swimming team (masters=old folks). It's something to think about. But I can't imagine it would be anything like it was when I was younger. Except the winning of course...that feeling never leaves.

Marriage

When I was younger, I never pictured my wedding. All the girls around me did, though. The beautiful white dress, the rings, the cake, the vows...held no interest for me. I never thought I would ever get married; I just couldn't see "giving up" myself to anyone. But I did...not once, but twice.
It would be nice if I could say that my marriages failed because of the men I married. But that would be a lie. A HUGE lie. I've learned a few things about myself over the last 20 years; one of which is that I'm not an easy person to live with. As a matter of fact, I can be a downright bitch. For example, when I walk in the house from a long day at work, why is it that I can see the sink full of dirty dishes, but the men who have been in my life (children included) are blind? Don't get me wrong, my failed marriages were not about dishes, but different directions our lives were going. The first time, we were too young and the expectations ran high, on both our sides. We were forever disappointing one another. As for the second time, I take most of the blame. I didn't make life easy for him and I took him for granted...alot.
I just read the above paragraph. From the sounds of it, you would think I was miserable the entire time I was married to them. Oh, but I wasn't. From Mike I was blessed with the gift of 2 lovely and wonderful children. As well, I married into a terrific family with whom I am still close today. He taught me common sense and I taught him book sense. He turned me on to country music and Garth Brooks, (whose music I still love to this day), Pink Floyd and the Talking Heads. I learned to appreciate pick-up trucks and good ole' southern traditions. (like grilling corn on the cob while it's still in the husks). He taught me the ins-and-outs of baseball and I taught him that poopy diapers are a natural part of life for infants.
From Danny, I learned how to laugh out loud and not take life SO seriously. But at the same time, I'd like to think I showed him how to be an adult. Actually it was not I who taught him that, it was my children. He was a wonderful step-father and he continues to be an important part of their lives. Through his grand-dad he taught me about honor. He showed me how much fun camping could be, as long as there is a bathroom at the campground (I squat for no one!!) , And we both learned, at a huge cost, to be weary of people we don't know.
Obviously, since I am divorced from both of them, it was not all sunshine and roses. But in their own ways, at different times of my life, they both made me so very, very happy. And in my own way, I loved them both... passionately.
What I have learned from all this, is that even with the good times, marriage is just not in the cards for me. Don't get me wrong, it would be nice if I could find someone and fall in love again. I just think that that little piece of paper sets expectations too high; mine and theirs. I am happy to be on my own, knowing that when I get home the dishes will be cleaned and I will have no one to thank for that except myself.

Epiphany

I don't know how or why it happened. I was just sitting on the back porch thinking about Brett and how I wish I could help him with his problems. When all of a sudden, it hit me like a ton of bricks: Life is not about who ends up with the most toys; it's all about the journey.
Now it's not like I have not heard this before. But out of nowhere, it seems to have taken on true meaning for me. So I've spent the better part of the last 24 hours taking stock of my life thus far: the places I've been, the people I've met, family, friends, fun, sad, bad....and on and on. I must tell you, it was very hard to concentrate at work today.
I'm not sure yet if this will change my life at all. But I feel the need to write about it and get it all out there. And so, I will do that here, from time to time. I am hoping that this will give me a better perspective on my life and those around me. And maybe, just maybe, when all is said and done, and I've written all I can, I will be able to look back at the journey and find what I've been looking for for so very long: happiness.