I have this theory about relaxing: The more you try to do it, the more difficult it becomes. Baths are a great example of this. I cannot for the life of me understand how to enjoy a bath (at least not since my parents took away the bath toys ... I loved that empty shampoo bottle.) Baths make me sweat. So you're sitting there, in your own dirt, sweating, doing nothing, looking at your body fold over itself like a fleshy accordion, which makes you sweat more, and all the while you're feeling tense because you're supposed to be enjoying this, because baths are supposed to be relaxing, and finally you get out looking like a lobster and feeling dirtier than when you got in. I much prefer walking. Or swinging.
I'm a lifetime swinger, but I didn't start swing therapy until fall of last year. I've always been restless at night, but it got particularly bad when I first came to Baltimore and, not only was there nowhere to walk, but it was still warm at the end of September (in Connecticut, summer promptly ends by labor day ... What? Foliage is our industry!) Anyway, there I was with all this energy and nowhere to put it ... so I'd go out prowling at night, and it wasn't long before I discovered the swing set at Wyman park. I used to go there for hours avoiding my hall, head in the clouds, flattening my stomach with every pump through the air ... ah, I love a good swing.
I know what you're thinking. What kind of idiot girl goes out at 11 o'clock at night to go to a park by herself in BALTIMORE? Well, it's not as unsafe as you'd think. There are these lovely guards who come by every 12 minutes or so on their bikes - my bold defenders in neon yellow. They're always very nice, making sure to wave to me as they peddle by, but secretly they're judging me for blasting ABBA. Yes, ABBA is my swing sound track - you just can't compete with that disco beat. I particularly like "Lay All Your Love On Me" and "Does Your Mother Know," although it's good to alternate with slower classics like "Super Trooper" to give your abs a break.
Night swinging is good if you need to think or just zone out, but day swinging is equally enjoyable. I love the kids that I meet at the park when I show up in the afternoon. Most of them are between the ages of seven and 10, so they're old enough to have a personality, but not old enough to think about how creepy I am. Actually, they mainly want to show me how good they are at climbing the sides of the swing set, and then of course, their swinging skills. I have been challenged by several of these youngsters to swing-offs and if my legs weren't seven inches longer than theirs, I definitely would have lost at times. I'd like to think I give them something to aspire to.
More interesting than the kids are the parents who come around six with their toddlers. As the babies stare up in wide-eyed amazement from their baby swings, I chat with their parents about Hopkins, Baltimore and life in general. I'm always getting kernels of wisdom such as "Don't marry young ... enjoy your 20s," and "If a guy ever screws up, don't give him another chance." And of course there's my favorite, "Don't have kids and don't get married ... I mean, I believe in marriage and kids are okay (Pause to push crying baby) ... just trust me." It's interesting the things people say when they think they'll never see you again. Clearly they don't know how intense I am about my swinging.
I understand that swinging isn't for everyone. There's a certain amount of requisite queasiness and of course your legs feel like jelly for at least 10 minutes after you jump off. But it's worth it to feel like you're flying, I think. Human beings like to be rocked, as demonstrated by babies in cradles, horny adolescents and rocking chair users worldwide. There's something alluring in being thrown about, in feeling that the earth is moving, that you're separate from the planet and in knowing it's there to catch you. In a city whose only natural beauty is six foot four and wears a speedo, it can be difficult to find a place to get a reprieve from the fast pace of life, much less one that, well, rocks your world. I get that. I also know that even if you like baths, you're probably not taking them in the AMRs, and if that's your main form of relaxation, then you're probably screwed. So swing by the park and, in the words of ABBA, "Take a chance on me."
