I’ve been thinking about how swimming is kinda “eh…” to me, and I realized why: I never really had to. As a tall child, I was never foot-far from the bottom of the pool. I recently saw this firsthand at a hotel where the final depth was not quite 5 feet. Our oldest son was, thanks to the power of tippy-toes, able to walk from one end to the other. Swimming was optional for his survival but not mandatory, thank in part to a recessive gene on his mother’s side which makes him a bit tall for his age. Or it could be my DNA. Either way, he and I had the same experience with a variance of only 25 years. Today I can swim, and I do swim, but I don’t really feel the need to swim because, well, I never did. The bottom was always there for me and I hope it always will be.
Those of you who find yourselves of an average height, don’t worry. The scales tip your way whenever you walk through a basement without ducking and without pain. Pipes that seem miles away to you are at eye level for us. I live in a world designed for people who are 73% my size. Whether I’m buying a pair of shoes or a car, I start not with style or choice but with availability. Velcro? Welll… not my first choice, but let’s try it anyway. And by the way: that’s me car shopping.