Aquatic Center

There's a giant recreation center I go to now that is far more fancy and far too populated with young, beautiful people for me to ever feel like I belong there. Nevertheless, as access to this temple of higher education excess is one of my few graduate student perks, I try to take advantage of it. It affords me thoughts like, "Maybe I'll go swimming today."

The pool is Olympic length and of Olympic quality, judging by the multiple Olympic rings displayed proudly on its wall above lists of Olympic alumni. As I lackadaisically breast stroke, my curious eyes dancing around the giant florescent arena, I imagine the multiple meetings in which administrators estimated how many top-recruits would be attracted to the university by virtue of this pristine new aquatic center. My attendance could not have been a primary business goal.

It's especially humbling to swim in one of these pools myself while I'm also seeing the best swimmers from around the world on television, their strength and grace almost inconceivable. I agree with the popular quip that the Olympics should incorporate one regular person into each event as a reference point for viewers. If such a person were me, I could guarantee you that the majesty of those athletes would never shine brighter. I would be too busy ogling the cleanliness of the facility, the clarity of the water, the aptitude of all the other swimmers, wondering, "How the hell did I end up here?"