Once upon a time, a perfectionist met a pool skimmer.


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This story has no end.

Even though it is currently sleet-snowing, I really can't complain about the cold this winter, but even mild winters mean that swimming is relegated to humid, chlorine-y pools. These grey, slushy days, (and even the cold, bright ones), have me dreaming of swimming outside. Most specifically at Sunnyside pool, on the very edge of Lake Ontario in Toronto's west end, and it is, in my humble opinion, the greatest pool in Toronto.

First off, it's big. Not quite Kits Pool big, but way bigger than your standard 25m variety. And such a big pool means tons of people and tons of people means tons of people watching, which on the pool deck is nothing short of fascinating! So many tattoos! So many different kinds of bathing suits! So many different ways of getting into the water! So many different ways of being in the water: you've got the swimmers, and the floaters, and the canon ballers, and the sun tanners, and the kid wranglers. It is the most wonderful cross-section of people in Toronto.

It's open every day from the end of June until Labour Day from 10-3:45, then then 5-8. It's open till 11 on extreme heat alert days. Those late night dips? One of the very best things to do in Toronto in the summer.

Though the width isn't a full 25m, there is always length (or width!) swim in the very centre of the pool and because the shallow end is so big, there is so much space for kids of all ages to play. The super shallow end is filled with babies in PFDs and little kids just learning to float, where closer to the deep end, it's the older, splashy kids playing frozen tag.The deep end hosts older ladies in bathing caps doing breaststroke, tangled couples, and epic diving competitions. 

On a really hot day, deck space is at a premium (especially deck space without fence shadows to ensure prime tanning!) What I would give for some Sunnyside deck lying right about now.

The countdown to June begins in earnest...

PS: the pool also has an amazing history!

What is a swimmer to do when all the swimming holes are frozen and/or far too cold to swim in? Head there anyway and marvel at the beachy art installations, of course!

It's the second annual Winter Stations Design Competition and 7 lifeguard towers in The Beaches have been transformed into winter warming stations along Balmy, Kew and Ashrbidges Bay beaches. They are incredible! The theme this year is Freeze/Thaw (fitting as the city just saw a 40 degree temperature span from one weekend to the next). 

I fell in love in the fast lane. And it was a real fast lane -- at U of T, where the fast lane is all triathletes and Masters swimmers and is a full 50m. I had been a medium lane swimmer, but switched lanes just so I could swim with the tall swimmer with a mean whip kick.

I have never swam so hard, or been so out of breath in all my swimming days the day I moved over to the fast lane. but I kept up. 

And then, somehow, we both grabbed flutter boards at the same time and kicked side by side for at least a half hour. It was what swimming pool fairy tales are made of.

I can't remember how he asked me out, but he did after that swim, and I must say, there is something extremely reassuring to know that you'll always look better on a first date than you do in a bathing cap and goggles.

We dated, (and swam together) for two years and though I haven't seen him in years, I still know the cadence of his front crawl, the angle of his hand as it hit the water.

One of the best parts of collaborating on a swim blog with fellow awesome swimmers, is that everyday you can send each other photos of fabulous secret lakes, or tweet at each other dreamy pools, or in this case send a text to me with the link to InStyle's Top 21 Hottest Swimsuits of 2016, and a message saying "For your bears!" Drawing challenge accepted!

Behold, InStyle's Hottest Swimsuit Styles of Resort 2016 Swim Week, worn by illustrated pen and ink bears! Which is your favourite look?

I’ve been thinking a lot about what to write for my first swim post of 2016, and figured it might be good to start with a first swim, and then see where I go from there.

So my first swim was a week ago, at my usual local joint, the JJP Community Centre here in Toronto. I was guided to the pool by a trail of discarded Christmas trees and blinking lights and wondered what the weather was like in Malibu, as my feet crunched the ice crusted sidewalks below.

2016 has not been the renewal of spirit that I’ve grown accustomed to when a New Year begins, in fact, it has felt quite heavy for many reasons, personal and professional. So as I trudged off to this first swim, everything felt so cumbersome… and the fact that I was listening to Alice Boman’s haunting song, Waiting was also probably not helping. 

Now, it should be mentioned I am a lover of big feelings. I love a good old ’emo’ run, where you open your arms wide, and charge the horizon with tears streaming down your face. I mean yes, crying makes it hard to breath, and yes, you probably look crazy to all on lookers, but who cares you are usually running away from them. But swimming has always been a pastime that has quieted my emotions, or maybe clarified them. Under water everything is silent and muffled, you are weightless and you can’t breath. It’s a very different experience from the gravity pounding, air infused experience of running, or really any activity done out of water. So here I was walking towards my silent place, with a head and heart full of really loud big feelings, and I was not sure the pool was the right place for them.

Since starting this blog with my fellow swimmers, my relationship to swimming has become much more mindful. It’s fascinating what is revealed when you stop and ask yourself to really examine something you love. I’ve reflected on my stroke, on why I swim or why I love pools more than all other bodies of water (well maybe not more than the ocean… the ocean always wins). I’ve also reflected on what the differences are with how I swim now vs. how I swam as a child. And one of the biggest changes I’ve discovered is the routine vs. the freedom, or the ritual vs. the random. Don’t get me wrong, I love my swim rituals. I do. But when I was a child jumping in the pool was an unwritten journey, handstands in the shallow end would flow without reason into mermaid kicks towards the deep end, along with challenges to see how long you could hold your breath under water, or back floats that seemed to stretch out for days. And always, always, there would be a party on the deep end of the pool floor, you know, where you sink down, hold hands with your friends and fake a tea party, or try and decipher what each other is saying, or just get lost in that deep deep abyss.

I’ve realized I miss that. I miss the freedom, the fun and the figure eights of bodies through uncharted waters.

So now to dive back into the first swim of 2016, where all these thoughts were rattling around my brain as I headed into the pool area, with goggles and cap on, and coming to the realization that I had to shake up this swim. It was time... no, it was overtime for a Party In the Deep End.

Lucky for me, the JJP pool is sort of shaped like a boot, and there is this deep toe section in the south west corner of the pool, where you can flutter off to and tread water or take a breather. I’ve never really used that area because I’m usually so into my length routine. But this Sunday afternoon, I decide to break out of my pattern and go a little ‘emo’ in the pool!

I found my courage around 30 minutes into my swim, which is ridiculous I know, but there is something about a length swim that makes you feel like you have to follow all those out-and-back rules. Anyways, I finally cut off to the side and I had the whole “toe” section to myself. I caught my breath, and then I just went for it.

I dove down, I flipped, I got water up my nose, I touched the bottom, I dolphined, and then I let go of all my air and sank to the bottom, and just stayed there—skin against tile, eyes tucked under plastic armor—starring out at the blue ceiling, and thinking why did it take me so long to do this!

I don’t care if I looked ridiculous. It was amazing. It was what I needed, a good old fashioned Deep End Party. I encourage everyone to try it. Let go, sink down and then come back to the surface, letting your secrets stay safe and soggy, floating at the bottom somewhere on the west side of the pool.

And that was my first swim and this is my first post of 2016.

*Pool note, epic Deep End Party in Season 2, Episode 10 of Transparent, EPIC!

Today I met a Dolphin Man.

I went to the pool at lunch time for lane swim. I was a bit out of sorts... I worked late last night so I was tired, David Bowie died so I was bummed, and it was one of those days where you realize with *surprise* (how do these things sneak up so?) that you probably should have scheduled in a bikini wax – so I was annoyed, but grateful for the low cut legs on my Sportsy Suit.

When I first got in the pool, I noticed this guy wearing an unusual navy blue swim suit that looked like my summer yoga pants. And a fun swim cap. It was light blue and it had a pattern of either tropical flowers on it, or Snoopy. Can't remember. But I was jealous that his swim cap was fun.

He was polite and let me in the queue in front of him so I could get started.

Somewhere along the way I ended up behind him again. And by then, because of the grump factor noted above and the old lady who kept butting in the line, I almost missed what was going on.

Dolphin Man would disappear under the water – like a submarine submerging – push off against the wall, slowly, and trace the bottom of the pool with this beautiful little kick, arms back by his sides.

He swam the entire length of the pool, and never came up for air until he reached the other end.

I watched him do this a few times, mesmerized, until finally I broke standard no-talking-at-the-pool protocol and blurted out, "Did you just do that whole thing on one breath??"

And he answered, graciously, as Dolphins do.

I finished the rest of my swim behind him, studying his unhurried, graceful pattern through the water. It made me slow down too... I was more careful about my stroke, my breath, more appreciative of the colour underwater. Of the quiet.

I was really affected by the whole thing, and maybe here's why. This whole last year, I have been reflecting a lot on dreams and goals and getting yourself to where you want to be. I have been observing and hanging out with people who I think are good at this kind of thing, hoping to uncover some of the secrets of their success.

And I've realized that all these people I know, who I admire, who live their dreams and seem to accomplish so much – well, it takes a while. It's not overnight, and they work at it constantly. 

Maybe this is why Dolphin Man's response about his one, big deep breath struck me today, the way it did.

"It took me two years of practicing before I could do it."

And then finally, Dolphin Man cut a diagonal line under the other lanes, under all the other swimmers, and was gone.

Most people don't go to small-town Saskatchewan to swim, especially in January, and though swimming wasn't my primary intention when I went in 2012, it's what I did a lot of.

I went with some wonderful artists to work as a writer on a project about home. During the week I taught at a high school in Yorkton and worked on a script and on the weekends, I walked along railway tracks and tromped through snow-covered fields in my huge winter boots and poked around abandoned farm houses that housed birds and coyotes and all sorts of things that terrified me. 

The days and the evenings were full, with teaching and rehearsing and writing and editing. There was so much writing, I knew I needed to swim.

I found a pool that was about 2km from the school -- The Gallagher Centre. It was huge. There were two pools, one with waterslides, another for length swim, a lazy river, a sauna, steam room. It was a veritable swimming utopia. It wasn't cheap, and it wasn't close, but it was heaven.

I swam in the fast lane with a bunch of retired farmers who would stand around the shallow end and talk about the weather, which is usually boring, except when it's 40 below, -50 with the windchill, and you've never felt cold like that in all of your life, it's actually quite fascinating. They were most impressed that the city girl from Toronto knew how to dress for the cold. 

I'd get a ride up when our morning classes were done and then I'd walk back after my swim, listening to the Deep Dark Woods and marvelling at the sun dogs. There were afternoons when I'd get stuck on the wrong side of the train tracks, waiting for a huge never-ending train go by. (Does it get any more Prairie than that?)

I learned pretty quickly that even with a balaclava and a hat and a hood, I had to dry my hair completely before heading out into the cold. I also realized that mascara would freeze in tiny beads on the tips of my eyelashes and then as soon as I got back to school, it would drip down my cheeks. The students thought it was hilarious -- the city girl who thought she could wear mascara walking around in a Saskatchewan winter.

Those swims kept me grounded in a whirlwind month of creation (though I still wish I had gone down the twirly slide!)

A couple of months ago when work was extra-crazy and I was having a hard time keeping my head from exploding, I reached out to Lindsay and Rhya one afternoon and asked what tricks they both had as creative people to stay grounded.

Their answers:
"Make a checklist."
"Swim."
"Make lists."
"Swim."

I am now the proud owner of a basic brown clipboard which I got at Dollarama, and it holds several pages, organized by category, of confidently Sharpie'd lists. It's true, it does help, enormously.

And, well, swimming.

My musical-kindred-spirit Martin Tielli once wrote, "It's quiet underwater."

As we plunge into a New Year, full of hope and the promise of massive amounts of fun and beauty and creativity, I drew us a little reminder, in honour of epic to-do lists, swimming holes yet to be discovered, and remembering to pack your bag properly on your way to the pool.

Happy New Year to you all.

Don't forget your underpants.


Illustrations by Laura Wills

Matisse's The Swimming Pool at the MoMA | Ruth Freemen, New York Times

I was doing research for my lifeguard novel, trying to figure out what poster Bea has hanging above her desk (Picasso? Matisse? Klimt?) and stumbled on Matisse's The Swimming Pool— Matisse’s first and only self-contained, site-specific cut-out. 

From the MoMA website:
One morning in the summer of 1952, Matisse told his studio assistant and secretary Lydia Delectorskaya that “he wanted to see divers,” so they set out to a favorite pool in Cannes. Suffering under the “blazing sun,” they returned home, where Matisse declared, “I will make myself my own pool.” He asked Delectorskaya to ring the walls of his dining room at the Hôtel Régina in Nice with a band of white paper, positioned just above the level of his head, breaking only at the windows and door at opposite ends of the room. The room itself was lined with tan burlap, a popular wall covering of the time. Matisse then cut his own divers, swimmers, and sea creatures out of paper painted in an ultramarine blue. The blue forms were pinned on the white paper, which helped define the aquatic ballet of bodies, splashing water, and light.

It is delicate and immersive and incredible. My jaw is still on the ground and I wish there was a time machine to take me back to the exhibit (that ended in February 2015). Next time it's up, we swimmers must go!

Christmas at my grandparents was the best. Not only because they spoiled us with a ridiculous number of gifts (Cabbage Patch Kids! Gund dogs named Muttsy!) and not just because my nana put out unlimited almond bark for me, or because there were sweet potatoes with broiled marshmallows on top or because there were trays of bacon wrapped water chestnuts. It was the best, not just because we were allowed to put on all of my grandmother's rings my grandfather made for her, and look at all of her lipsticks in their decorative cases in the bathroom, or because I'd get to blow out birthday candles with my mom and dad and cousin, and ride the elevator, and call up from the intercom, and listen to the police scanner, and stand on the balcony, but because we got to swim.

Their apartment building had a pool in the basement, and the weekend before Christmas, we would pack our bathing suits and goggles along with a trunk full of gifts. The only other time we swam all together was at the cottage, but by then the lake was frozen over, and swimming altogether was a distant memory, but every December, we would do a conga line in the shallow end, practice handstands and show off our somersaults. 

My grandparents didn't know how to swim, but they loved that we did and we would open presents smelling like chlorine. Our hair would be crispy and tangled, and everything about it was perfect.