Thursday, January 13, 2011

Moving on


Life is full of changes based on our decisions. A friend sent a query this morning that got me thinking. "What do you think of when you hear 'spiritual transformation,'" he asked.

I could think of only one word for any kind of transformation, whether physical, spiritual, mental, vocational, or emotional.

"Change."

This afternoon my beloved swim spa went up the driveway. Loaded on a flatbed truck, it's destined for its new home in Oregon. Someone snapped it up as soon as I posted it on Craigslist. The buyer offered me a little extra money to hold it until they could pick it up. The big fiberglass pond wasn't going anywhere on its own, so I agreed.

Everyone who knows how I love to swim asked why I sold it. Besides the expense of heating it, I was the only one who used it: it wasn't a priority for the rest of the family. The garage was really full with it taking up an entire bay, and the two-foot-wide path to the freezer got annoying.

The pool leaked slightly from one of the connectors underneath, and that never seemed to get fixed. The level would drop so the water jets hit the back of my neck instead of creating a smooth stream to swim against. Ouch. Refilling meant treks with the hose, then waiting hours for the water to heat before swimming.

The swim spa's electric breaker would trip when the electricity surged or blinked, so I'd come down all ready to swim... only to find the water a frosty temperature or at the autoset of 100oF. I'd have to reset the heater before heading back upstairs to change. Another wait for a swim.

I reckon I was swimming less than half the year, with all the variables. It was available only December to June the year before, and I used it twice since last summer. The unreliability just got old.

Recently, I joined an exercise class that challenges me and gets me moving at 6am, a few times a week. Someone else maintains the room and it's always ready when I walk in. I don't look at anything but the interior of the car on my way into the gym. The change rooms are orderly. Someone telling me what to do means I don't think about quitting early. (Ok, so I think about it, but I never leave before it's over!)

I'll miss having a private pool, especially as I'm thinking about the steady chugging of feet kicking and arms pulling against the warm current. How I enjoyed those swims! I'll probably never find a swim spa again. But it's time for change.

Sometimes you know when change is coming, and sometimes it's just sitting in the garage, doing nothing except take up space until you recognize a different season. You know it's the right time for change when you sigh with relief as life moves on or the swim spa trolls up the street.

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