Smeared Type

Deck Pool

I’ve been swimming almost every day in the outdoor deck pool of my condo in the south loop of Chicago throughout the summer. 45 minutes to 1 hour each time. A good exercise and a great joy. Early in the morning when the sunbathers are not out yet, I usually share the pool with a Mr. Wong—a small, thin Chinese retiree who had come from Hong Kong decades before.

I am pleased the pool is still open as we approach the end of September. I feel the chilly breeze of the fall on the deck, but once in the heated water, it feels just like a cozy summer day. But I was surprised yesterday when I dipped my feet into water and found it cold. I hesitated for a moment, and then waded in. Gooseflesh immediately covered me. It must be below 55 degrees. I sped up, splashing and kicking, to warm up. The cold water felt like needles poking on my legs and arms. I persisted, dogmatically, as if I were fighting a battle.

Mr. Wong appeared. He took his time placing his bright yellow towel on a lawn chair and putting two identical stainless steel bowls that contained a dozen or so of quarters by the edge of the pool—his daily routine. Each time he finished a lap, he would move one quarter from one bowl to the other. He would leave after all the quarters were removed.

“The water is cold,” I warned him before diving into the water for another lap.

Through my dark goggles, I saw him slowly inching into the water. I heard him gasp and then, jump in. “Bravado,” I cheered silently for him, taking comfort in thinking that I was not the only stubborn one.

Less than five minutes later, however, I saw Wong move toward the stairs. Once out of the pool, he started running toward the chair to grab his tower. He wrapped it around him without drying his body and disappeared through the sliding door before I reached the edge of the pool. I had never seen him move so fast.

I smiled and turned for another round, and another. I felt the chill to my bones, but continued. I found myself checking the handles of the watch I placed by the pool frequently. Time seemed to move very slowly.

I got out of the water 35 minutes later, shivering all over. To fulfill the designated workout time, I stepped into the small fitness center and was relieved to see no one around. I did sit-ups and weight in my swimsuit for 25 minutes. Then, like Wong, I ran upstairs in record speed. I took hot shower for a long time.   

I had a headache and running nose afterward, which have continued today. But despite the physical discomfort, I must say I also feel a sense of pride. Is it stupid stubbornness or passing the test of a “crucible” that helps build character? I would like to take it as the later.

Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. www.mulberrychild.com