I was at the pool. At lunch time, the lap-lanes are populated mostly by old people trying to keep limber. It's a losing battle. They resemble manatees more than anything else. A whole row, bobbing about, puffing and slowly scooping their way through the water.

One seventy-something woman with a swim cap rested at the wall. She got this intense look for a while. Then she astonished the hell out of me by launching into the butterfly stroke. It was kind of slow and not very explosive, but she finished her fifty meters. She moved over to the ladder and climbed the three excruciating rungs, old again, with no water to erase the years. I hope that I can do as well, at that age.

Respect your elders.

A younger woman took the lane over. She could swim faster, but I wasn't as impressed.