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Water girl...

There are those that like being on the water and those that love being in it. I'm of the second camp. Always have been.

The smell of chlorine. Shoulders like a linebacker. Goggle marks that stick around for hours. Love it all.

I have been a swimmer for 30 years. Three decades after mom dropped me off for swim practice, my alarm still goes off at 5:30 a.m. three times a week, telling me to get my butt to the pool. So I do. (The pic is circa 1981 of me before the start of a race.)

People question my sanity. How far do you swim? (3,500-5,000 meters) That has to be incredibly boring. (Not boring. Peaceful.) You must be training for something. (Not currently.) How hard is it to get out of a warm bed and into a cold pool? (Okay, sometimes that is hard.)

Other swimmers get it. The same way runners brag of a high, swimmers operate at a hum. The rhythm, mechanics and breathe work together to achieve an efficiency not found in other sports. After a workout I feel the good exhaustion, without my joints shouting obscenities at me.

I'll continue to run as long as my knees hold up. My bike will see the road for as long as I feel comfortable in lycra shorts. But speedos will hang from my bedroom doorknob, well, until I no longer have a doorknob to hang them from.

Happy 30th anniversary, pool.

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