I’ve always felt most at home in or around the water. Sometimes that meant swimming laps in a gym pool with waterproof headphones on and music in my ears. Other times, it looked like floating on a raft in my suburban New Jersey backyard pool on a summer afternoon, or splashing around in the ocean while the waves roll in.
For several years, I swam almost every day at a local gym. I’d slide on my headphones, slip into the pool, and swim laps for an hour with nothing but music and the rhythm of my breathing.
Then the gym abruptly closed. It genuinely broke my heart.
I tried to replace it. I joined other gyms. But within a month or two, I’d always find some imperfection — crowded lanes, a cumbersome drive, an insect in the locker room, or an annoying overall vibe — and before long, I’d go less often, then not at all.
But then I found a pool that helped me build community and accept aging.
I found a pool that checked all my boxes
A few months ago, in the dead of winter, I felt like my heart and soul were dehydrated. I knew I had to try again. This time, I made myself a promise: I would stop scrutinizing every detail. I’d find a pool and let it be “good enough.”
I Googled “gym pools near me.” Almost as an afterthought, I added “water aerobics classes.” I’d always avoided group classes before. I loved swimming because it felt like solitude and freedom. No schedules. No small talk. No group dynamics. And if I’m honest, I had stereotypes about the people who frequented these classes. I pictured conversations about whether chlorine would ruin someone’s salon blowout, chitchat about where they bought their designer swimsuits, and self-deprecating remarks about not feeling “swimsuit ready.”
I found a pool that checked the necessary boxes: it was affordable and not too far from my home. It had a pool with lap lanes and a separate warm-water pool, with a daily selection of exercise classes.
I tried one water aerobics class and then another. To my surprise, I liked the group chatter. Actually, I loved it.
I met women who lived fascinating lives
The people in the classes were nothing like the caricatures I’d imagined. Most are retired women, and many talk about grandchildren, but with a little gentle digging after class, I started hearing richer stories.
One woman had a career as a probation officer that I never would have guessed from our first conversation. Another told me about extensive travels. Another described her hobby of decorating seashells with uplifting messages and leaving them around town to brighten the day of whoever found one.
There are stories of careers, reinventions, marriages, losses, and plans still unfolding.
The women in that pool changed how I think about getting older
Most of the women are seniors, which, after some resistance, I’ve finally admitted is also my demographic. Still, many are 10, 15, even 20 years older than I am.
They all say that the combination of exercise and socialization these classes provide helps keep them feeling energetic and young.
I didn’t realize how much anxiety I had about healthy aging until I spent time with women doing it so well. They’re vital, funny, and curious. They’re realistic without being resigned.
There’s wisdom in that pool — and not in a needlepoint pillow inspirational quote kind of way. It’s practical wisdom. The kind that comes from living long enough to know what matters, and what doesn’t.
I went looking for water and found community
Some days I still swim laps by myself. I still love the solitude, but most days I head to class. The pool itself is high on my gratitude list, as are the women I’ve met there.
They haven’t replaced the longtime friendships I’ve treasured for decades. This is something different — an unexpected layer of companionship that arrived later in life when I wasn’t looking for it and certainly didn’t expect it.
I went searching for a place to swim, but I feel like I found the fountain of youth in a community that embraced me with open arms.
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