Dinosaurs, Bermuda Triangle and Wetsuits

I was over at the South End Rowing Club last week getting ready to jump in the bay for a quick swim. It was a glorious day with nice, warm temperatures and bright sunshine. Although I brought my Blue Seventy wetsuit I was contemplating swimming sans suit because the weather was so nice and frankly, because I don't like to draw the sarcastic and sometimes playful digs tossed at wetsuit wearing triathletes.

I walked out to the beach, wetsuit and goggles in hand. I took a deep breath, drawing in a lung full of salty air and stood there sizing up the conditions. A brisk breeze blew across the water and the goosebumps started to appear in rapid fashion. Sun or no sun, mean comments, malicious or not, no matter. I'm definetely donning the Blue Seventy.

I got into the suit and then realized of course, I can not zip up the back by myself. The reverse zipper is awesome for a fast strip coming out of swim on race day. However, it creates a bit of dependence on others when putting it on.

Naturally this put me in an akward position. It was the middle of the day and only a cadre of handball players were visible in the kitchen of the club, along with two old dudes lounging in the back in lawn chairs.
They were kicking back enjoying a brew. Fortuneatly for me they seemed happy to help me in my predicament. With a little effort we managed to get me zipped up and on my way.
Though they did ask for payment in Powerbars (commenting they noticed my t-shirt when I arrived), my mature wetsuit zipper-uppers saved me jabs regarding the neoprene.

I had a great swim, battling the flood tide as I headed toward the far end of Aquatic Park. The water smacked me in the head as if to remind me that I should swim more. Then with an icy hand pushed my bum on a zoom of a ride heading back towards the club. After a few rounds of here and there, I got out of the water and proceeded to rinse off and remove my wetsuit at the outdoor shower.

On the other side of the fence where the shower was located, there were three little boys in a heated exchange of sorts.
When I turned on the shower, apparently the water splashed over the fence and quickly cooled their fast talking. One feisty little guy, stood up as tall as he could, peered over the fence and boldly instructed me to turn off the shower. Apparently I was splashing them. That was the beginning of a delightful conversation.

The boys were ages 5, 6 and 7 and were engrossed in a discussion about dinosaurs and if the Bermuda Triangle got 'them'. This intriguing exchange worked its way into a heated debate about dragons, pirannas and wizards. Intermittedly we talked about why the boys weren't swimming today. The eldest boy, sounding very adult for his 7 years, confidently remarked, "I just didn't feel much like swimming today. I think I shall swim another day."

As I was about to ask why this young man wasn't up for swimming today, his brother grabbed a hold of my wetsuit and said very sternly with a growl, "Gimme that wetsuit. I'm gonna throw it into the bay....where it belongs!"

He obviously spends a lot of time at the club. He also added, "You are a member of the South End, we at the Dolphin Club HATE the South End."

There is a long standing rivalry between the clubs. (The Dolphin Club and the South End Rowing Club are located next to each other on the shores of Aquatic Park.)
I always wondered how the wetsuit discrimination and the club rivalries are perpetuated.
Now I know. They start them young!

By the way, according to my 5 year old tormentor, dragons are not real, wizards created the dinosaurs and there are pirannas in the bay. If you get eaten by them, the Toom Raider will come and take your bones to the Bermuda triangle where the dinosaurs will devour them and live forever.

It's amazing the things you can learn from a trio of little boys. I think I'll go back for another lesson this week.

Drive by Shootings

I'm on a brand new email list...an 'etree' for my neighborhood located in Richmond, CA.
Sounds exciting, huh. Well, it is because of some excitement that it has been performed. A type of excitement I would much rather avoid.

Earlier this year I think I heard a statistic that rated Richmond #1 in the state of California for crime, murders or something horrible like that. Frankly, my little neighborhood, located in the "Richmond Annex" seemed quite removed from any riff raff. Other than some random car break-ins, our 'hood' has been rather quiet and calm in the 4+ years I have lived here. Then why the need for the neighborhood 'etree'? It seems in recent months, the relative serenity of our safety bubble has all been but burst. Last week on Thursday night, around 7:30, we heard a "pap, pap, pap" in rapid succession. Hmm. I remarked to Phil that it was odd to have fireworks going off in August. Then we both realized that this was no delayed Independence Day celebration. What we heard was gunfire. Yikes.

As it turns out, there was a drive by shooting a mere two to three blocks from our house. No one was hurt. No one was caught or arrested. In fact, although the Police were called, the episode kind of fell through the cracks. That was until now anyhow.

Our neighborhood group has very quickly gained momentum over the past few days. Now we are regularly exchanging emails, have the names of three local beat police responsible for our area and we know to dial 911 at the sound of gunshots. No doubt we will be all watching, listening and reporting anything out of the ordinary. The sad thing is I can't believe it has come to this. I hope I never hear gunfire at night again, but somehow I don't think that is likely.

It makes me wonder how safe I am when I leave my house to run or ride my bike.
At the very least, I will certainly have a bit more urgency in my stride and spin...for all the wrong reasons.