Learning to Swim at Thirty

I never learned to swim as a kid. I was embarrassed about it for years, so I made excuses at pool parties and stayed in the shallow end at the beach.

At thirty I finally signed up for adult lessons at the community center. There were six of us: a retired mail carrier, two college students, a mom of four, a man training for his first triathlon and me. Our instructor was nineteen and endlessly patient.

The first day I couldn't put my face in the water. By the fourth week I could float. By the eighth week I swam one full length, slowly and ungracefully, and when I touched the wall the whole class cheered like I'd won a medal.

I cried a little, but it was pool water, so nobody could tell.

It is never too late to be a beginner. There's a special joy in being bad at something and slowly getting better, surrounded by people who are cheering for you.