Welcome to my new blog for general musings. (My other blog, Cyclophilia, chronicles my cycling adventures.)
When I was a wee lad, one each of my older brothers and sisters were on the local swimteam and swam competitively as pre-teens and teens. My mother was rather involved in the operation of the swimt-eam as a volunteer. Consequently, I spent a lot of time being towed along to/from the pool, and many weekends revolved around going to some swim-meet that E. and S. were swimming in, often with a long drive to and from another town or city. (Or so it seems in hindsight.)
As for me, I didn't get very far into swimming. I took swimming lessons but wasn't interested in the competitive aspect. I forgot how to swim, but took it up in my mid-20s. In adulthood, E. and S. have dropped swimming for different reasons, but I joined a masters-level gay swimming club, A Contre Courant. (The word "masters" means non-professional adults who aim to improve, practice regularly with coaches, and may or may not participate in competitions. I swim recreationally.)
Today I volunteered in our swim-team's annual swim-meet. As a child, going to swim-meets was somewhat tedious, but as a time-keeper, the day passed very quickly.
So what is the "Who would have guessed" part? As a child, I probably never even noticed the score of other volunteers and officials, let alone guessed that one day I might be swimming or helping with the operation of a swim-meet. There is a lot to be said about the infinite possibilities of childhood, but what I love best about adulthood is the possibility to do (not just think) many of the things we might always have wanted to do - or never even thought about.
A festival like a war zone
13 hours ago