Swimming, not knowing how

Lyrics of a popular Czech song crosses my mind every time I’m approaching the pool: “Swimming, not knowing how to…” Spot on. Farewell to Hvězda Park (a great place for running with my coach); hello to the swimming pool. Here’s where I put aside my crouches five times a week and enjoy free motion with no prostheses, in order to give my heart the much-needed workload.

“Knowing no style…” whilst I’m muttering: “Having no legs…” Involuntarily I’m striving to learn a bit of crawl, making use of body support floats – and my heartbeat goes sky rocketing. I am slowly dropping my aversion to this goddamn sports discipline. The swimmers’ coach in the neighboring lane drops me a merciful advice now and then. Put it this way: I ain’t gonna be no pro, but I’m getting used to be friends with water, even beginning to look forward to the next swim.

“My head’s full of ideals…” maybe, but mainly of expectations, I add. I can’t wait to dispose of my crutches and wheelchair and stand up on my own feet. It’s been a sobering experience. I was used to having my calendar overfilled, indeed I had no problem being at two different events at once, Chuck Norris would lose out big time, but those days are gone by. Unfortunately so… or fortunately enough? I had to reshuffle my calendar and clean it up – a nice exercise for a manager, Steven Covey would give me a nod of approval.