Water Aerobics

A Coven of Water Crones

“Hi! Hope everything is going well in clinic. Tell everyone I say hello!”

I quickly dashed off the text to my former coworker before dropping the phone in my swim bag, grabbing my barbells, and jumping into the pool.

I thought I was on time, but apparently on time is late in the world of water aerobics. The class had already started, and I got dirty looks for jumping in even though I wasn’t near enough to anyone to splash them. I didn’t know the rules yet.

As I joined the warmup train walking around the pool while ABBA blasted in the background I observed everyone carefully to try and figure out what those rules were. I was astounded that about 15 of the 20 of us in the pool still had dry coiffed hair. Surely that wouldn’t last through the whole class, but it explained why they were so miffed that I jumped in.

It had been a minute since I’d exercised. Was that squeezing feeling in my chest and stomach a heart attack? No. It was that existential dread that follows you everywhere when a job consumes you. I’m here to forget that.

Time to get my barbells from the side of the pool. Wow. Those suckers can really float. They are made for resistance and keeping them under water is tricky. I’m focused on not letting the barbells see the light of day while we punch under water. If I can keep them under the water, try hard enough, be perfect enough, maybe the dread will go away.

But no. That is what I’d been trying to do at work for years. All it did was hollow me out and pour anxiety, self-doubt, and bitterness inside and make me too time-crunched and stressed to notice.

Time for squat jumps. Umm…. we are in 4.5’ deep water. I’m only 5’4”. I’m essentially drowning myself each time I go down to squat and never fully getting into a squat position because barbells make me float. Head goes under. Head goes up. When it goes up, I realize I am splashing and sheepishly slow it down to look around. Everyone’s hair is still dry. Their barbells are mostly above the water. They are talking and laughing.

I remember my grandmother. She had a whole crew of water aerobics buddies and told stories from their classes that sounded more like gossip sessions. Those stories were my inspiration for being here. Water aerobics was one of my retirement goals, and this was day two of my retirement.

The clock on the wall said it was 12:30. At work, the fellows are halfway done with their first patient. If I were in clinic I’d be drowning in patient alerts, refills, forms, and bracing for the first round of sign-out reports from the fellows on the patients they are seeing.

But I’m not there. I’m never going back there. I’m here. A place I had told so many patients about in the past. Water aerobics is the perfect geriatric exercise. Good for the joints. Now, here I am in a class myself.

Suddenly class was over. I’d made a point of never letting my barbells come to the surface. By the time I waited my turn to climb the ladder out of the pool and arrive on the deck, my arms and legs were rubber and my hair was sopping. How do so many ladies still have dry hair? They must be witches. (Cool!)

I check my phone. No response to my pre-class text. I’m not sad they are managing without me, just sad that I didn’t get to joke with them about being in water aerobics instead of clinic.

Two months go by and I meet with this coven of water crones twice a week. Somewhere in there, something unclenched. The dread and tightness in my chest and stomach disappeared. I heard from work a few times, but it had mostly left my conscious thoughts. I still tried as hard as I could in class, but I didn’t beat myself up anymore if a barbell broke the surface of the water.

I got to know Nancy, the recently retired diplomat who just moved back to town and was fighting with the contractors renovating her house. I saw the group instinctively protect Susan. Susan got easily flustered when the routine changed, and my geriatrician eye saw she was likely in the early stages of dementia. I could tell her friend had suspicions. And we all snickered about the older men who came to “swim laps” during our class but spent a lot of time suspiciously walking around the deck near our end of the pool.

Then one Tuesday in class, there is a funny fluttering feeling in my tummy again. I didn’t have chili fries for lunch. It is different than before. I think it is…excitement?

The first day of the new job goes well, and I come home floating on air. The only problem, my new work days clash with the water aerobics class. I only have one more meeting with the coven of water crones.

That last day began with a trip to my old job as a guest speaker. As I walked the campus my breathing became more shallow, the squeeze in my chest was back, and I found myself lowering my eyes to stare at the ground as I walked. My passion for training the next generation of geriatricians will never disappear. I thought the prior 2.5 months had helped me shake the negative feelings. The thoughts had gone away, but my brain forgot to tell my body.

After speaking, I walked out without a backward glance, and each step felt lighter and lighter. I was going to water aerobics!

I had to book it to get there on time. And…just like the first class, on time was late. I knew better than to jump straight into the pool this time. I eased in and tried to find an empty spot.

You know how when you are in a hurry you don’t notice things you normally would?

It took me a minute to settle into class. Once I did, I started trying to take in all the sights and sounds to cement memories. Nancy. Susan. The teenage lifeguards who alternately tried to hide their laughter and their awe with us. The summer camp field trip kids playing in the other part of the shallow end.

That is when I felt it. Eyes boring into the back of my head. I turned around and locked eyes with Conner. One of my kids’ friends since they shared an infant room at daycare.

Ms. “Crone?”

We shared waves and big smiles. I scanned the other kids and saw several others I knew and loved.

Two of the water crones turned around and stared at me. They looked confused. They were old enough to be the child’s grandmothers. I could see them trying to calculate my age. I smiled at the enigma of being a middle-aged crone who is retired yet has elementary aged kids.

As quickly as I snuck into the pool, class was over. I impatiently waited my turn to climb the ladder out of the pool. I’d learned climbing out on the edge was not a part of the water crone coven rules of engagement. The last moment of the last day of class wasn’t the right time to break the rules.

The field trip kids were lining up to leave. I hurried over to say hello. One of them launched themselves at me with a hug. Luckily, he loudly asked where my kids were by name and the camp counselor recognized me. She’d been nervous about an old lady coming up to her brood.

In the locker room, I smiled as I texted their moms to let them know the kids were having fun and that one of them gave me a hug and nearly gave their counselor a heart attack. They texted back quickly and we shared jokes about the absurdity of the situation and of me doing water aerobics.

The content on Crone Powers is for informational and entertainment purposes only. It does not constitute medical advice. I am a doctor, but I AM NOT YOUR DOCTOR. Always consult your medical and mental health professionals before ADDING—NEVER SUBSTITUTING—spiritual modalities to your care. Remember, woo only works when you do the work.

The views and opinions expressed here are my own and do not represent those of my employer or any institution with which I am affiliated.