The Electric Chide

Recently, we’ve been trying to become healthier. A while back, Larry started cooking better and I started running. The running quickly faded after my 8K, mostly because I had acquired the once coveted tee shirt.

However, we discovered a new pool that was recently built near us. It’s a DC sponsored pool so our expectations were low, but the clean locker room, the empty lap lanes and the cheap cost pleasantly surprised us. Believe it or not, the pool is free for DC Residents. That’s a first.

We swim about three times a week, right after work. When we first started, we both stopped to catch our breath after each lap, about 25 meters. Now we leave the pool after 30-40 laps feeling energized and stronger. Let me just add that it’s even more fun on ‘Swim Team Practice Nights.’

Last night, we again made our way to the pool. With summer upon us, there are more residents who come out as well as an increase in activities and classes. On one side of the lap lanes was a water rescue class and on the other side, they were beginning to set up for water aerobics.

Instead of every 25 meters, we now will take breaks every 200 meters. During one of our breaks, we commented on the benefits of water aerobics and how good it was to see so many people getting ready to partake. With that, the instructor comes out of the office with a boom box and an extension cord. I was puzzled, but decided to head back for another 8 laps.

My mind raced as I swam. What could he possibly be doing with the extension cord? I stopped for air after 75 meters and saw that the man was walking half the length of the Olympic size pool to plug in the cord. He then returned to the radio and plugged it in.

“No way,” I thought. “Even with GFI outlets, they wouldn’t do that, would they?”

Another 25 meters and I was up again. At this point, they were having the kids exit the pool and all of them began walking over the extension cord. The instructor was nowhere to be seen and my mind calculated how quickly I could exit a pool with a metal edge if an electric radio fell in.

When the instructor returned, I figured that he would notice the danger and move the radio back. Instead, he took the speakers off and moved both of them and the radio to the edge of the pool. As if that weren’t enough, he balanced all three items on five kickboards each to … well, I’m not sure why you’d need to do that, but I had all the motivation I needed to get out.

Larry quickly followed and both of us watched as 40 people jumped in and began moving to the music. We both lamented over a workout cut short and wondered why the instructor couldn’t have used a battery-operated radio. A mental note was made to avoid Fridays when the class takes place.

Our friend Jenni is staying with us once again. (For some reason, she provides amazing foder for the blog.) You can read about her here, here, and here.

At dinner, we regaled her with the story of our potential electric shock story. She listened intently and nodded in agreement.

“Wow, that’s scary,” she said.

I was so pleased to be validated in such a way. But instead she continued… “That totally reminds me of when we brought the blender out to my friends pool.”

I worried that a tragic story was about to unfold. “What happened?” I asked. “Did someone got hurt?”

“Omigosh, no. But I got so stinking drunk and I think someone did vomit in the water.” She took a bite of her meal. “Seriously, tragic accidents happen at pools all the time.”