Some people wake before dawn to slip into the water; others treat a swim as a duty on the weekly to-do list. I belong to the latter group: I know that swimming is beneficial, yet for me it often feels like a chore rather than a pleasure. Still, I admire those for whom the pool or sea is a daily ritual. I can think of a friend in her nineties who refuses to miss her morning swims and a colleague of my husband, now in her seventies and having had both a knee and a hip replaced, who is reliably at the local pool at 6 a.m. each day. Their consistency highlights how varied swim habits can be.
My own practice has its hurdles. Since my nearby pool shut, I must walk for about fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the next facility, which lowers my motivation even further. I manage roughly once a week and often berate myself for not doing more. I dislike the logistics: the undressing, the re-dressing, and the perennial problem of ending up with clothes that are still slightly damp. The monotony of pacing up and down a lane can feel tedious, and small annoyances — a faster swimmer in the slow lane, or someone drifting too slowly through the medium lane — break any meditative rhythm I try to achieve. Counting laps is another trap; I miscount and lose track, which is more irritating than catastrophic.
Different kinds of swimmers and what drives them
Across pools and beaches you can notice a few recurring approaches to the water. There are the avid participants who train with a purpose and rarely miss a session; there are those like me who are dutiful — aware of the health benefits but less passionate about the act itself — and then there are the playful swimmers who go primarily for laughter and fun. Each type brings a distinct energy: the keen bring discipline, the dutiful bring steadiness and the playful keep the atmosphere light. Recognizing these categories helps explain why some people glide through seasons and others scrape together motivation for a weekly dip.
Memories of playful swimming
My father belonged to the playful camp. Family trips to the pool with him invariably turned into water skirmishes he orchestrated with theatrical glee. His signature move was to launch a stream of water over someone’s head using only his fingers — a childish, gleeful tactic that made the pool a place of mischief and noise. That sense of play carried through much of his life, but when he later moved into a continuing care community he found the public pool less tolerant of that behaviour; lanes meant practice, not play. He told me he quickly grew bored by straight laps and rarely stayed in the water for long.
Why I return despite the friction
What finally convinces me to lace up a swimsuit is the aftermath: the post-swim glow and the clarity of mind that follows immersion. The effort of getting there and changing feels justified once the body and mood lift. There is also an unexpectedly social component. Changing rooms have led to conversations that turned into friendships, and casual exchanges by the poolside can ripple out into real connections. On one occasion, while my attention drifted and I was counting laps imperfectly, I witnessed a dramatic moment: a lifeguard diving in to save someone. The speed and precision of the rescue was a clear reminder of the safety structures in place at public facilities and of why pools matter beyond exercise.
Ideas that come from being submerged
Swimming also acts as a porous space for creative thinking. When I am in the water, scattered ideas cohere — project plans, phrasing for tricky explanations, even new book concepts seem to arrive more readily than elsewhere. I once assumed there must be scientific proof that being in water enhances cognition, but a quick search turned up no definitive studies tied to my experience. Practically, I tried to capture those thoughts with a small notebook; it quickly failed, sodden and illegible. Now I rely on memory until I reach home, where I transcribe whatever the water left behind. For me, the pool functions as a mental workshop much like a long hot shower or a solitary bath.
Your turn: what keeps you returning?
Swimming means different things to different people: recovery, training, play, social time or simply a way to feel better at the end of a busy day. If you swim regularly, how would you describe your reason? Are you an avid swimmer who thrives on routine, a dutiful swimmer who values the benefits despite reluctance, or someone who goes to the pool to laugh and play? Share the aspects that make the effort worthwhile for you — the social encounters, the physical changes, the ideas that surface, or the practical strategies that help you get out the door.