Jill's Journal" Paris, perhaps I missed my calling

OK, I’ll admit it. I’ve haven’t always been the strongest swimmer. I back up my confession by telling you I had to take the ‘Beginners’ course – twice. Yep, I right out flunked. You see, it was the deep end of the pool that scared me to death. Give me 3 feet of water, and I was like a fish in water. Tell me to jump into the depths of the 10-foot end of pool, and I was nervous as a turkey leading up to Thanksgiving.

While Beginners was the only level I had to take twice, my strongest swim stroke yet today is the tried and true “dog paddle”, which I will say, I do excel at. I can also tread water with the best of them.

Over my years of travels, I’ve encountered a few of those “deep-end-of-the-pool” flashbacks. My very first trip to Mexico – Puerto Vallarta, to be exact – my friend Karen and I signed up for a day on the ocean. The tour included a less-than-impressionable horseback ride – on the most bored horses in life I’ve ever seen – to see a waterfall and take a jump in the bone-chilling, crystal clear water, kick up a leg or two as the party music blared, enjoy a few tropical-flavored beverages, and the opportunity to snorkel. I was excited to give snorkeling a try for the first time, but to do so, I was required to jump off of a rather large catamaran into the depths of the Pacific Ocean. I have visible proof of that, as a video recording of our daylong tour perfectly – and somewhat embarrassingly – captured my hesitance.

The funny thing is, by the time I mustered up the courage to finally take the plunge, all the others that took the leap long before me, were scrambling to get back on the boat. Apparently, there was a school of jellyfish doing what jellyfish will do.

On another getaway to Jamaica, my same friend Karen and I opted for a cruise on the crystal-clear waters of the Caribbean Sea. Our transportation that day was a “glass-bottom boat” and “Cool Bob” – complete with dreadlocks and shiny silver front tooth – was our Captain. Again, the opportunity to snorkel was presented, and once again, I sat on the side of the boat mustering the courage to take the plunge. Once I did, one fin flew off my foot one way and the other flew off in another direction while the breathing apparatus filled up with salt water, which left me sputtering like an old engine on its last mile.

“Swim to me, I save you,” were the heroic – and memorable – words Cool Bob spoke to me that day.

It was nearly two weeks ago that I was “cruising the Caribbean.” The only fear of “water” I had on this excursion was piloting a jet ski for the very first time in my life. I’ll admit that I a few of “deep-end-of-the-pool” fears crept into my head while viewing the pre-excursion informative video. 

It took a few “guns” of the throttle that made me realize the more “guns” I gave, the better the ride, and once I gained my confidence, it was “smooth sailing” across the choppy waters.

Later that day, I took one last plunge in the pool. With light rain drops falling, the usually busy pool was down to just three people: Me, my friend, Sharon, and a girl, about 11 years old, I guessed. While treading water in between swimming from one end of the pool to the other, in the spirit of the upcoming Olympic games, I posed a challenge to the girl, “Wanna race?”

She was immediately up for the challenge, and before I knew it, she was counting down the start. I instantly went into front-crawl mode and I kicked my feet to and fro. Determined to win – I mean, hey, this was my vacating, too – I kicked like I’d never kicked before. Despite my obvious height/length advantage on my opponent, we ran neck and neck for the first meter or so, and that’s when I began to pull away.

We raced a couple more times, and the competitive spirit in me rose to the occasion in each race. At that point, I had won and I was done, and though my heart was nearly beating out of my chest, I was soaring high in victory.

It was surely a proud moment for the gal who once was fearful of the deep end of the pool. And now, with the Summer Olympics in Paris on the horizon, I can only think, perhaps I missed my calling.