Back in the swim

I took swimming lessons as a five-year-old at Morse Park in Lakewood, then again at a club where my dad knew the pool manager. My mom laughs that she would watch me attempt to do the back float and gradually sink beneath the surface of the water. I don't remember much about the lessons other than not looking forward to them and I can't remember why. Maybe it had something to do with the aforementioned back float.

In college I discovered swimming as exercise. The University of Colorado rec center had a south-facing wall of glass that overlooked the mountains. The 90 minutes I had between my first and second class were enough time to head to the pool and swim laps. As the morning sun streamed in and with the Flat Irons in full view, I gained the satisfaction of a mile swim.

It has only been a few years since I took it up again. Though it had been decades, somehow my old stroke was still with me, even though my 19-year-old body is long gone. The pool at the Y is not as scenic as the one in Boulder, but it offers me a great place to practice endurance and work on some new strokes. I am taking lessons at Courage Center -- an extraordinary place where people with disabilities learn to overcome.

Not long ago I realized that one memory from the childhood swimming experiences planted a seed that took root in me. It involves the manager of the pool, Paul Davis, who was a friend of our family. We sometimes arrived early enough to catch him swimming a mile before our lessons. His stroke was even, efficient, relaxed, peaceful. I've since concluded that his peaceful swimming was the result of the peace in this Christian man's heart.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you . . . Isaiah 43:2