Benevolent Addiction by Anne C. Baker

Now that I'm in my eighth decade I have a confession to make. I am addicted to swimming. At first I indulged because of the exhilaration, and I thought my popularity might be enhanced if I joined in with others. Now I enjoy this activity by myself as well. It's difficult to admit I'm an addict. How sharp, brittle the word "addict" is. It carries the unpleasant burden of constant exposure in the media. It is associated with weakness, dependency, loss of self control and poor self image.

I consider myself as having none of the above characteristics except possibly my self control might be questionable at times. Daily battle is waged when temptation leads me to certain foods not in my best interest. However my major addiction is swimming.

An inner drive propels me to my early morning walk to the pool. Fortunately not many neighbors are around, but when I sense an interruption a flood of desperation churns through me. When a delay occurs it is an effort to be polite and exchange pleasantries.

Once in the pool conversation is avoided while I count laps. If someone has the temerity to speak to me, the steady swimming rhythm is lost, to say nothing of the lap count. Keeping track of the count is difficult enough due to my own machinations. Invasive thoughts cloud my mind. Plans for the day, calls to make, shopping list to write, even the sight of an egret flying in to balance on a nearby tree is enough to interfere with concentration.

The urgency that accompanies me to the pool quickly disappears as I swim. Pleasure flows through my body. My life force is one hundred per cent. Joggers speak of the highs they achieve. My high is gentler but just as powerful. The water cradles, comforts, fulfills my special needs.

I share many similarities with other addicts. Intense desire is never far away. One taste leads to craving more. Why swim only once a day if I can repeat the experience? If I am unable to satisfy my "habit" a vague restlessness clouds the day.

However, that is where the resemblance ends. No one feels sorry for me, no one tries to reform me. I feel no shame. Why should I? I walk taller, my mind is clearer, my body firmer. The high after completing this exercise remains with me through the day. Possibly the only negative factor is that talking about swimming too often may bore some people. I will have to watch that.

Meanwhile there is no time to waste. I'll put on my suit, gather goggles and ear plugs, and hurry to the pool.

Anne C. Baker, who lives in Largo, [Florida] is an author.

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