UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

NEW SPECIMENS OLD SPECIMENS THE SCIENTIST MY LOG CONTACT ME
09/20/2005 - 7:55 p.m.

HIGHER, FASTER, STRAIGHTER, STRONGER

I think my water aerobics instructor is trying to kill us. When I signed up for water aerobics, I thought my biggest problem would be that the high school pool is cold. It's cold, true enough, but when you move enough, you get accustomed to it. It's not the cold that will kill me. It's the instructor. I think she has a future as a marine drill sergeant. "Higher, faster, straighter, stronger�."

I thought I knew the instructor. The instructor has run the high school rec department water activities for years. Both girls had her as a swim instructor. She was patient but strict with Kat and managed to keep up with Day-the-fish. She was quick to see when Day had turned full body blue and was the one who suggested that Day not take lessons in the winter until she had enough body fat to keep herself warm. (She still doesn't have enough body fat for that and she never again took mid-winter swim lessons.) She was a caring person. But it was all a front. "Higher, faster, straighter, stronger�"

I have to admit that she is funny. She'll show us a move that requires doing something behind the back and when a woman calls out, "What if you have too big a rear end for that?" she's willing to call back "If mine isn't too big, yours isn't too big." She will explain that she wants more bounce by explaining that if we finally found suits that look good we at least should show them above the water. But, man, "higher, faster, straighter, stronger�"

And then there's the matter of equipment. I figured a bathing suit was all I needed. Wrong! The bathing suit is just the beginning. She wants us to bring a water bottle (although I can manage that.) She wants good traction for most of the tortures she has devised so I need swimsocks. I had a pair but they are a little too big for anything but beach walking and the soles are bunching up. I just ordered new ones on line and hope they come before Monday. There I am fixing my shoe and I hear, "higher, faster, straighter, stronger�."

Finally, there's the bounce itself. Jane Fonda may have urged women to go for the burn. With this instructor, she wants the bounce. As we hear over and over, the only people exempted from going for the bounce are those with knee or hip replacements. If she wants bounce, she'll get bounce�even though I have to stay in a very narrow strip or I bounce myself right in over my head. If anything bounces during the rest of my day---a ball, the staples I dropped, my bust�I hear it in my head, "higher, faster, straighter, stronger."

The bad news is that there are quite a few little old ladies in the class who can outdo me even though I've been exercising regularly of late. The good news is that a young mother thought I might be another young mother. I told her that she was observing the magic of hair dye. She told me that it was partly my figure that made her think so. My figure? My figure? Hmm, who cares if I die, I'm willing to go�.

"Higher, faster, straighter, stronger."

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