Standing motionless and steadfast under the glow of a shadowy entryway light, surrounded by the pre dawn darkness, he waits. Clutched in his left hand he holds a blue mesh bag filled with the accoutrements of his purpose. His name is Don.
Today, like nearly every other day, Don stands by the entry door to the health club and waits for staff to unlock the door and allow him in. The club opens at 5:00 AM but Don always arrives well before then and stands at the door, adopting a subservient yet stoic posture. He is punctual and makes no apologies. That’s who Don is, and more. Don is 85 years old.
25 years ago Don hung up his robe and retired from his seat on the San Diego County Superior Court bench. He lives in Northern California largely because his children established themselves in the area. He is soft spoken and carries few words. His greetings are short and polite and he always calls you by name. Don is of unimposing stature physically. He stands maybe 5 feet 8 inches tall and weighs at the most.150 lbs. Don can be described as one of the least and at the same time one of the most impressive physical specimens at the club. Don swims.
Every morning without fail Don enters the water at the club pool and swims 100 laps. He only swims in lane one. Don gets his weekly workouts from the local Masters Swim Team coach and dutifully performs the drills as directed without variation. A 100 hundred laps every day. Don swims deliberately and painstakingly slow but he never stops. His stroke is not very efficient in terms of swimming technique and he doesn’t always look comfortable in the water but he completes his task every day, rain or shine, hot or cold. A hundred laps. You can set your clock by him.
Don is not deterred or intimidated by anything. We often conduct Masters Swim workouts at the same time in the same pool when Don is swimming and you would be hard pressed to know for sure if he even knew you were there. Accomplished swimmers and triathletes 50 plus years younger fly back and forth across the pool right next to him and Don appears oblivious. I sometimes finish a set of intervals and find myself looking down the pool lanes at Don. I become mesmerized by his clock like tempo, his barely perceptible forward motion and his refusal to stop. He is focused for sure and I often wonder where he is mentally when he swims. When Don finishes his laps, he re-assumes his polite demure manner and soft spoken brevity as he excuses himself to the showers. The next morning I know he will be standing under the light.
One morning about two years ago I walked into the gym and saw Don sitting on a sofa reading the newspaper. I was thrown off by his drastic departure from routine and couldn’t help but ask him if he lost his swimsuit. Don smiled courteously and quietly replied, “I don’t think I’m going to swim today Mike. My wife died last night. We were married for 61 years. I think I’ll just sit here and read the paper.”
I stammered through the appropriate condolences and walked, half stunned toward the locker room. I was perplexed that Don’s wife had died just hours earlier and there he was sitting in the gym lounge reading a newspaper! 61 years with this person and she was now gone. I didn’t know Don outside the club and I didn’t know him well enough to understand his behavior. Maybe he didn’t know where else to go. Maybe he needed to be out of the house or maybe he needed to be somewhere familiar. I realized that most likely Don was standing in the dark earlier this morning, under a hazy light, motionless and empty handed waiting for the gym to open. When the door opened, he most likely walked in, provided a polite greeting to the staff and walked toward the locker room. Only today he turned right and sat on the couch.
I entered the locker room and put my on my Speedo swimsuit. I walked out to the pool and jumped into lane one. I swam exactly one hundred laps and got out. I made a silent emotional donation for that effort to Don and showered. When I walked out to the lounge area he was gone.
Two weeks later on a Tuesday morning I pulled into the parking lot of my health club. Under the yellowish hazy light in front of the club entry doors was a slightly built older man holding a blue mesh bag. I walked up and greeted Don with a handshake. I welcomed him back and told him he was missed by all. Don looked back at me and said simply, “thanks Mike”.
We dressed in our swimsuits and walked out to the pool together. As I rinsed my goggles and prepared to jump in, Don called over to me and said, “Mike………she was quite a woman.”
I’ll bet she was.
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