Life

I hereby resolve to swim a mile... I think

Swimming is just one of my resolutions – I have a few more tucked up my sleeve. Like old paper tissues, they shall probably flutter out on to the floor in the months to come and get swept into the bin

Nuala McCann

Nuala McCann

Nuala McCann is an Irish News columnist and writes a weekly radio review.

No point in hanging about – you've got to dive right in there
No point in hanging about – you've got to dive right in there No point in hanging about – you've got to dive right in there

IN THE spirit of the new year, my fingers ventured on to the swim-a-mile Ireland website. Let’s start the year with a firm resolution, my id told my ego – or more likely my ass told my elbow.

The swimming is just one of my resolutions – I have a few more tucked up my sleeve. Like old paper tissues, they shall probably flutter out on to the floor in the months to come and get swept into the bin.

Talking about things falling out, I remember a story of a woman I know who was at an important meeting when she crossed her legs and last night’s knickers fell out of her trouser leg. Oh, the horror of it.

At the swimming site, when it came down to the nitty, gritty – the concrete detail of doing that one-mile swim – my finger teetered and hovered.

Where would I like to do my mile, the site put it up to me. No more wavering on the sidelines, jump in there, said the site.

So I put in where I would swim my mile. (No, none of your business – you don’t want to watch me flounder).

How long would it take me?

Ah there’s the rub.

Now that is a good question. Let’s say that it could take me some time... a lot of time, I imagine. I hovered, I dithered, I procrastinated – an hour and a half or two hours? It depends on the day and the spirit and the weakness of the flesh and who is pounding up the lane on my inside.

I chickened out. I logged out.

It is one thing to swim length after length down an empty pool with sunlight streaming in through the window and another to get into a lane with a lot of other swimmers and make like the Olympics.

Swimming is my time out – my relaxation. Yes, there are moments when I could kill – usually big butch men who hog the pool.

A friend once encountered such a man in the middle of a swim: “Excuse me, do you own this pool?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Well, you are sure acting like you do,” she told him.

And, outside of the pool, she is pretty devout. I have had those red hot Etna moments too.

Territorial swimmers bring out the badness in me. That and long, long sessions roasting gently in the sauna listening to people who clearly do not get out enough or do not have anyone who listens to them at home.

It’s one-way transmission. You press the on button and off they gallop.

And all this is getting away from the point of getting on with it... seizing the day, biting the bullet, living life to the full. Perhaps it is time to gird the loins and return to said website.

Last week, I had a coffee with a dear friend who has had her share of bereavements in recent years.

She lost a close friend in 2016 who was younger than us. Here was a woman and a poet and a wife and a friend who drank deep on what life offered and refused to lie down until her time ran out.

Life was pomegranate-sweet but ended all too soon.

My friend celebrated, remembered and mourned her... shared her poetry, decorated her flat with the pink fairy lights once gifted.

Someone said it should get easier; I’m not sure that it does.

Long ago, I remember a student party when my friend was dressed like Uncle Sam – in stars and stripes – and I was somebody from Grease, I can’t remember who. Someone had made a cheesecake and set it down on a seat for a moment. I collapsed into said seat and got up with a pound of full-fat cream cheese attached to my bottom.

I remember sitting up all night and eating sausages and pate and slugging the dregs of the wine while discussing the big issues of life – does he love you, does he not, when will you ever get that 5,000-word essay written.

But that was long ago now. It feels like we’re all just over the brow of the hill and freewheeling down the other side straight into the Co-Op funeral plan.

And the message is simple. If you want to do anything, do it now. No point in hanging about... dive in there.

So I’m for the mile... or did I really just say that?