All she wanted was to be a swimmer

I go to the Red Hook Rec Center most mornings (or at least I try to). The staff are fantastic. The other members are welcoming. And the price? $75 for half a year—unbeatable. 

This summer, I wanted to get into the best shape of my life. I pictured myself transforming into a fit spy à la Jennifer Lawrence’s ballerina turned Russian secret agent in Red Sparrow. The stars seemed to align as well. In May, a piece in The New Yorker described a writer’s experience getting into swimming. I followed her tips and found an affordable (and ultimately too modest) one-piece on a website she recommended (SwimOutlet.com). Then, a friend, an avid swimmer herself, gave me an extra swim cap and a pair of goggles she had, and I found an old lock I hadn’t used in years (a requirement for swimming at the city’s rec center pools). 

At long last, the day came at the end of June for the pool to open. Still nervous about taking the plunge (would the other swimmers be annoyed by my slowness? how does one pass? will we each get our own lane?), I decided to continue my normal routine until I felt good and ready to swim. This turned out to be the right choice and the only choice, as the pool’s opening was delayed.

Three weeks later, on July 18, it did open, but I continued to drag my feet. I had hoped to swim in the morning, but the pool’s lap-swim hours were limited—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 7 a.m. until 8:30 a.m. Those were the days of the week I needed to be at the office in Manhattan by 9 a.m. sharp. Maybe the stars weren’t aligning, after all. Still, I figured even just a 20 minute swim would give me the dopamine kick I needed to feel like a sexy spy.

As I walked down Clinton Street the following day on my way to the gym, the weather was perfect and the pool’s water looked calm and inviting. I turned the corner onto Bay Street, only to find a line of swimmers waiting to be let in. It was at least 10 minutes past the hour, but without the proper staff there, swimmers had to wait outside. This meant the early lap times were actually more limited than stated. My Type A brain did the math—a 7 a.m. start time was probably closer to 7:20 a.m. My Type B brain came to the rescue though—even 10 minutes of swimming would count!

On Monday, Aug. 17, I walked to the gym, telling myself that this Wednesday I’d work up the courage to swim. Closed—again. This time the entire center was closed for three days, though I didn’t visit for the rest of the week, as I’d received an email about its closure, but not about its reopening. 

The early swim program closed for the season on Friday, Aug. 27. After work, I packed my swim bag and headed out (who cares if it wasn’t during the morning lap time!). Normally, the staff member at the front desk teased me about when I’d finally be swimming, but today was different. I was ready, flip flops and all. 

I shimmied into my suit and walked out past three seasonal Parks employees on their phones. I was arranging my swim cap, when one of them called after me. Walking back to her, she asked what I was wearing. I told her it was a swimsuit, thinking she was confused by the 1920s style.

She and one of the other employees shook their heads and told me that I was not allowed to swim in it, as it wasn’t a bathing suit. Confused, I explained where I got it (SWIMOUTLET.COM), that I’d worn it tubing before, and that it very much was a bathing suit. They did not relent. Tired from the long week, I gave up trying to persuade them. I retrieved my clothes and left. 

For the past two years, the Red Hook pool has seemed to have fewer visitors than in previous years. Between the frequent closings (including its closure for most of last summer), limited hours, staffing needs, and rules, it’s not surprising that fewer people bother to visit. Sadly, low visitor rates could be seen as a reason not to invest in the pool, and the cycle will continue until it’s permanently closed. (A multi-million dollar reconstruction of the pool and rec center is currently in the design stage.)

Growing up, I was always trying to convince my parents to take me to the town pool—I loved swimming, and once I wrapped up, there were often free crafts for kids in a grassy area nearby. All you needed for a perfect summer day was your swimsuit and a town pool membership. 

Instead, trying to swim as an adult requires a flexible schedule, a lock, very specific types of swimsuits, and then luck that the pool is open that day. A resource that could provide fun, exercise, swimming skills that could save lives, and an opportunity to be outdoors and off of screens shouldn’t come with so many hurdles. 

In the first days of September, one of the regular Parks employees stopped me on my way out, asking about if I’d swam yet. I told him I’d given up, to which he gave me a kindhearted pep talk and reminded me that the swim period would be extended this year until a week past Labor Day. Buoyed by his kindness, I realized that maybe the stars’ alignment didn’t matter after all. 

As of this writing, I still have one week left to make my dreams of becoming a swimmer come true. It just means I’m going to have to risk pulling a Janet Jackson as I do laps in my bikini.