It's All in the Timing

I was at the pool recently wringing out every last little bit of summer. The opportunity to float in the lazy river is something I dream about in mid-February when I’d kill for a little warm sunshine on my face. But while we all know that Fall doesn’t officially begin until September 22^nd, the pool closes long before that.

 

So I hit the pool arriving with my towel, 24 oz double-insulated tumbler of ice water, can of ultra-high SPF sunblock and my pool floatie. I kicked off my flip-flops, dropped everything on a lounge chair but the pool floatie – and I waded in.

 

You should know that it could be 90 degrees outside and I still do the toe-dipping thing where I test the water in which I’m preparing to submerge myself. It could be as warm as bath water, but my face wears the same expression as if I were participating in a Polar Bear plunge in frigid January.

 

Fortunately, that expression lasts only seconds before I’ve acclimated to the water temperature. I close my eyes and peacefully float as the water jets carry me along and the sun shines down upon me.

 

Ahhh.

 

This euphoria lasts only as long as the little hooligans stay out of the lazy river. Once the pool is overly filled with splashing pre-teenaged boys, I get out. And then I eagerly await the announcement every hour that it’s the time-out period for all children under eighteen.

 

Believe me, we diehard lazy river fans who have purchased our own floaties positively live for those brief kid-less moments in the lazy river.

 

After a couple hours of floating and sunning, I was relaxing in my lounge chair reading a book and awaiting the next adult only swim, which was about 10 minutes away. I was also shamelessly eavesdropping on a man and his son sitting next to me. He was telling his son that it looked like a brief thunderstorm was headed our way and the boy wasn’t allowed to go back in the water.

 

I looked up and, sure enough, there were some clouds in the sky that didn’t look too friendly.

 

The woman on the other side of me asked me what the pool’s policy was for rainstorms. Clearly, she assumed I was the professional pool-goer amongst us what with my super-duper pool floatie leaning next to my chair.

 

I told her that everyone would have to take shelter. And if the storm involved thunder and lightning, the pool would close.

 

And then, because I didn’t really feel like hanging out under a crowded shelter hoping the rain would stop and the sun would come out again – I decided I’d probably had enough lazy river time that day.

 

So I packed up and headed to my car.

 

No sooner had I latched my seatbelt and put the car in gear when the skies opened up and it rained like Noah was making a comeback. There were brilliant flashes of lightning and booming cracks of thunder. And as I left the parking lot I could barely see the road in front of me.

 

Talk about timing. That was just about perfect. And, yeah, sure, I had a little hint from my lounge neighbor with the doppler radar app that the weather was going to take a turn…but had I left even a moment later I would have been soaked.

 

And I know what you're thinking. But, no, I wasn’t still wet from the lazy river. I’d changed into street clothes in the restroom since I had planned to run some errands after my afternoon at the pool.

 

There are so few instances in life that I have perfect timing that when they happen, I marvel.

 

On the other hand, there are many instances where my timing is off. Yin and Yang, perhaps?

 

Let’s compare and contrast, shall we? Let me tell you about my most recent journey to the pool.

 

It was this past Friday. August 12^th. Still well over a month before the end of summer, no?

 

I looked at my handy weather map and determined that Friday was going to be the best day to go to the pool. Saturday, conversely, was going to be cloudy and there was a greater chance of rain.

 

So I made arrangements to visit my father-in-law on Saturday and invited a friend to join me at the pool on Friday.

 

Alas, she couldn’t go at the last minute, but that didn’t stop me. I slapped on the sunblock, grabbed my pool bag and floatie and headed for the pool.

 

Once there, I was surprised that the parking lot wasn’t more crowded as it was an absolutely perfect summer day to lounge by the pool.

 

But I forged on ahead and walked up to the gate. Only to be stopped by a big sign indicating that the pool was closed until 4 pm. Unless I wanted to swim laps. Which I didn’t. I haven’t swum laps since my late 30s when my shoulder naggingly suggested it was time to stop swimming laps lest I was interested in signing up for a little rotator-cuff surgery.

 

Thursday had been the last day that the pool was open at noon. The stinkin’ day before!

 

Sigh.

 

So I turned around and headed back to the parking lot. I stowed my floatie in the trunk and then headed home. All sad and dejected because I might have missed my last opportunity to float in the lazy river for the season.

 

I had snapped a photo of the sign because I wanted to read it more thoroughly to see if I might have any more opportunities to hit the pool again. And – lo and behold – I discovered that the pool is open on the weekends from 12-6:30 until Labor Day. I swear, I may have heard an angel or two singing in my head when I read that news!

 

But here’s the thing about timing. There has been a definite chill in the air the past few mornings when I’ve taken Maggie for her first walk of the day. And the sky isn’t so bright either leading me to acknowledge that a time change is headed our way before too long.

 

So it’s starting to feel a little like Fall. And I’m guessing that the whole Pumpkin Spice Phenomena is about to descend upon us poor folk who are not remotely interested in any manner of Pumpkin Spice. Drinks, candles or otherwise.

 

Maybe I should hold out hope that we have a resurgence of a late summer heat wave so I can eke out a few more times at the pool over the next couple weekends?

 

We’ll see.

 

As long as the timing isn’t off and we don’t get that heat wave until after Labor Day.

 

Then the sound you’ll hear from way over here? Yeah, it’ll be the air coming from my deflating floatie. Along with perhaps the sound of sweat splashing on the fabric as I fold it up and put it away for another year in the middle of the after-Labor Day heat wave.