OPINION: The pool is cold, but I'll live with it

May 1—The pool is cold.

Just saying it like that reminds me of a line by Roddy McDowall line in the movie "Cleopatra," after having heard that Marc Antony, played by Richard Burton, had killed himself: "Is that how one says it? As simply as that? ... 'The soup is hot; the soup is cold. Antony is living; Antony is dead.' Shake with terror when such words pass your lips, for fear they be untrue, and Antony cut out your tongue for the lie! And if true, for your lifetime boast that you were honored to speak his name even in death."

I don't know about any honors, or any possibility of the lopping off of muscular oral organs covered with mucosa and papillae. But there is no other way to say that the water in the pool at NSU at least seems colder than it once did.

I hadn't been swimming in over a week, thanks to COVID. When I showed back up Tuesday, one of The Fit managers told me they had fixed the HVAC unit in the natatorium. In many ways, that's good; without it, the natatorium was as foggy as a London street in December. Sometimes you could barely see your fellow lappers, even with the back door open and a giant fan working to disperse the cloud to the outdoors. But the renewed removal of the humidity also made the pool room cooler — which, in turn, made the water seem frigid.

Nick explained what had happened, and told me that although the water was cold Monday, it was several degrees warmer Tuesday. He added that the boiler was set to 86 degrees. It took me a while to ease my aging torso into the water, but after I did, I told him there was no way that the H20 was 86 degrees. On Friday, there were allegations it was 88. If true, it would mean the pool was just about 14 degrees cooler than our hot tub at home. And that water is so hot it turns my skin red.

The ideal temp for lap swimming is about 78 degrees, which is about what I'd guess the NSU pool to have been as of Friday morning. But that's colder than usual; the NSU pool usually boasts a balmy 84 degrees, so that's what I am used to, and so is everyone else. On Tuesday, a man next to me said something about his "testicles crawling," which was TMI (too much information), but I looked quickly at my smartphone to see if my lips had turned blue. They hadn't, but I was shivering, although I hadn't reached the teeth-chattering stage.

I would never complain, even if the water were 70 degrees. I'd grin, chatter, and bear it. I'm aware there are some mid-range admins at NSU who would just as soon close the pool, drain it, and fill it with dirt for a tulip garden. But I knew some in the water aerobics class would strenuously object. I remember a fruitless campaign several years ago by some in that class to raise the water to 90 degrees. Fat chance; at that temperature, bacterial cooties would multiply like a coronavirus. That's what happens in hotel hot tubs. Guests let their nasty little progeny get in the tubs, and the kiddos almost always pee in the water. Most people with good sense eschew this particular soup, because if they don't, they'll wind up with a urinary tract infection.

When Wednesday came around, the water exercisers showed up, and a few yelped when they got into the pool. I was pretty sure Sue Bingham would voice her displeasure, and indeed, she did. I saw her standing on the deck, giving a thumbs-down signal, and then she walked up to Nick, who was standing in for the lifeguard. I can only imagine what she said. She even called me a few times about the cold water when my husband was assistant facilities director at NSU. I haven't had any "connections" in years, just a sincere desire to keep the pool open.

It's been colder before, as Sue and other regular users can attest. Once, many years ago, the thermostat went on the fritz. An elderly fellow a couple of lanes over from me got into the pool, then quickly caught the attention of the rest of us: "You might want to get out for a bit. It's so cold, my bladder loosed." Two other folks immediately fled, but as he was at least 8 feet away from me, I said, "I'm toughing it out." He then said, "Well, don't drink the water." As if.

On another occasion, a man known by all as a professional curmudgeon bitched repeatedly about the water temperature, but he had cried wolf so many times, no one listened to him. He eventually brought in a portable heater and an extension cord and plugged it in near the deep end, where he bobbed uselessly for about 10 minutes before the lifeguard saw what was going on and accused him of trying to electrocute everybody. Electrocution is always running like an undercurrent of fear among those who deal with the pool, which is why at the first crack of lightning, the guard blows a whistle for the "everybody out!" signal.

So yeah, it's colder than most people like. I'm not sure I mind. Especially now that one of the lane rope hooks is broken, I'd rather not have to fight too hard for one of the remaining lanes. I suppose I could always pee in the water and announce that to the rest of the paddlers, but I couldn't face the inevitable ridicule on social media. I'll just roll with whatever punches come my way.