The Day I Barked in Public (or My Life Keeps Me Humble).

To tell this story, I need to set the stage a bit. N. and I exercise at a local gym. We recently decided that we wanted to learn how to swim... I could swim to save my life, but I could not swim a 'proper' stroke. And I certainly could not do the whole submerge your face in the water and breathe under your arm thing. In fact, learning to swim is on my 38 list -

38 things to do before I turn 39.

I am doing pretty good. I no longer leave the pool having consumed a large quantity of water. I can swim for a decent length of time without stopping (always room for improvement) and, if really in the groove, I can make it the length of the pool breathing just once (It's not a regulation sized pool). N. and I are recognized as a couple and as 'lap swimmers' at the gym.

The other night, I had finished my laps and had moved to the side of the pool reserved for everything else to do some water jogging. N. had come down from the weight room and was beginning to do his laps. We greeted each other and then we were off doing our own thing. The 'non- lap swim' side of the pool was filled with a variety of folks, doing a variety of water activities. I was in the water jogging zone. My eyes may have even glossed over. I was not really paying much (any) attention to the world around me. Next thing I knew N. popped up right in front of me. He had been lap swimming and then.... from the depths of the water, there he was right in front of me! He came out of nowhere.

I squeaked. Screamed. No, in all truth is was a Bark. A. Single. Loud. Bark. The kind of high-pitched bark a small yappy dog would make. Except that it came out supported by my strong and very human sized lungs.

There was no escaping it. Everyone heard it. The bark echoed off of the pool room walls for a long time. All of the women gabbing together in a circle in the water near me startled saying, "you scared me!" and "oh my god!" and "what was that?"

That was me. Barking. And then laughing. I couldn't stop laughing because I couldn't get the bark that had just emitted from my body and was bouncing off of the walls out of my ears. It was shocking. Startling. Appalling. Who makes such a noise in public? How could that noise be effective in the slightest if there really were a threat to my life or limb? How could such a sound be coaxed out of me, a strong and confident woman? So I laughed some more.

There was N. with a whole bunch of startled women in his midst. All looking at him as the cause of the bark. What could he do but laugh in his calm and good natured way? He was startled too.

The women carried on for several minutes amongst themselves retelling the tragic tale and giggling.

I see those people I barked at nearly every day. They smile at me. I smile back and hear the echo in my mind. It's a lesson in paying attention to the moment I suppose. And trying to keep my bark in check. And making sure N. doesn't sneak up on me in public. And humility. It's probably even fair to say that my bark is far worse than my bite....