Why not to let a dosey kiwi out for the day on her own...or how not to go aqua jogging in Germany - Part 1

Do you ever have moments where you look around and go "this cannot possibly be reality, and by George, I must write this down".  Today was one of those days.  But before I regale you with my German pool adventures, a little background....

Pregnancy for me so far has meant no running, cycling or basically moving more than a few metres at a time, at a speed above a snail's.  This is despite the fact that little Poppet seems to be in training for the German national gymnastics team, specialising in trampolining.  As a result of all of this, I have been reduced to the level of elderly lady and have been forced to take up aqua-jogging.  Yes that's right, bloody aqua-jogging.

Whilst home for the holidays I thought I'd better get cracking on my new water-based fitness regime.  Complaining all the way to the water, I donned togs (a bathing costume for non-Kiwis), threw on my jandals (thongs, flip-flops) and headed rather sheepishly to the pool.  So far, so good.

Aqua-jogging is clearly a popular sport in NZ because the pool has a permanently roped off section where one can aqua jog until your heart's content.  Again, not too bad at all.

Having spent a considerable amount of time checking out the style of those in the pool with me, I feel I am able to confidently draw a picture of the two most typical Invercargill aqua jogger.
          Exhibit one:  middle-aged; white hair with a tinge of cigarette-induced yellow; skin that has not seen the sun for a long time (it is Invercargill) but has a distinct fire-engine red hue to it thanks to that afternoon of sun last Saturday; wearing a full face of make-up and often decked out in jewellery.
         Exhibit two:  elderly; white hair; usually travelling in a pack; and readily acting as a speed bump for everyone else in the pool.

Now the form that aqua-jogging typically takes for these two groups resembles a moris-minor convention on a Sunday.  SLOW!  Bent over, not so much jogging as stumbling, and having an in-depth conversation about the latest style of perm they have had done.

For anyone not over 50, aqua-jogging can be a little frustrating.  Particularly if,  like me, you have been forced into it by outside forces and would rather chew off your own arm, than be in a swimming pool.

So thinks I, despite my growing resentment of my new sport, this is good for baby, and apparently good for me, so I will pick up where I left off and brave the German public swimming pools. HA! How naive I was....

Part Two to follow.

T