Twice a week during the summer, I stop by Fairfax Pool for open lap swim at 9:30am. By that time swim lessons have already begun; little kids splash in the shallows while older children line the far side of the pool and parents poke at their phones in the lounge chairs under the sunshades. When I arrive there are normally a handful of people already waiting to jump in the crystal-clear water, although fewer than I would expect from a city our size. On occasion there are more swimmers than open lanes, and when that happens, we all do our best to cram in and swim around each other. The less experienced folks who struggle to front crawl in a straight line elicit eye rolls from those who can maintain a more forward trajectory, and I take pride in being part of the latter group. This pride lasts until the moment a member of the UWEC swim team shows up (differentiated by the logos on their swim caps). Nothing puts my aquatic abilities in perspective better than sputtering on a mouthful of water from the wake of an actual athlete blasting past.

On the day I took the AP Calculus test during my senior year of high school, a group of us skipped out after the exam and drove to Mt. Simon. It was a humid, overcast day, not the sort that immediately recommended swimming, but we only had this one chance to rebel before graduation season. We parked on the backside of the park and followed a trail until the expanse of Dells Pond appeared. Most people who grew up in Eau Claire are familiar with Mt. Simon’s famed jumping points – “Baby,” “Queen,” and “King,” only one of which should be attempted by any sane person. As you can imagine, our AP Calculus crew was a bit timid, which meant most of the excursion was spent trying to convince each other to jump, then counting off until the peer pressure outweighed our survival instincts. Later I learned that I passed the AP exam and earned valuable college credits, but the most memorable part of that day was hitting the water while my classmates cheered from above.

I was a trustworthy kid, but my parents still reiterated one iron-clad rule: NO ONE was allowed in the house while they were gone. I had every intention of following this rule, but I made a mistake.

During my sophomore year of high school, I got a job at Arby’s in Oakwood Mall, and it wasn’t long before my work schedule conflicted with my parents’ weekend plans, which meant I got to stay home alone. I was a trustworthy kid, but my parents still reiterated one iron-clad rule: NO ONE was allowed in the house while they were gone. I had every intention of following this rule, but I made a mistake. I let slip at work that I had the house to myself, and my assistant manager and her best friend, both seniors at North, insisted they were coming over. I forbade them from doing so, but they got my address off my application in the backroom file cabinet and showed up at my house after closing time anyway. I freaked out and insisted they leave, but they would only agree to do so if I came with them. I climbed in their car and we drove to Riverview Park, where more North kids awaited. Everyone shed their clothes and stormed into the cool water. It was a scene straight out of an R-rated teen movie, and after my chaperones dropped me back at home, I laid in bed for hours, unblinking, vibrating with the adrenaline of all the rites of passage I had completed in just a few short hours.

For reasons I can’t discern, many of my memories of growing up involve swimming. There was the time at Big Falls County Park when my friend Matt almost drowned trying to keep the grill we brought dry as we forded the river out to the island. There was the time a group of us drove to Somerset to tube the Apple River but got stuck in Ozzfest traffic. I was given a citation for people riding illegally on my vehicle, which was only a fraction of the laws we had broken while we waited on the county highway. There was the time fellow V1 writer Ian Jacoby and I wrote an article about Eau Claire’s swimming holes by testing them all out, including the secret, forbidden ones. That article remains as one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever written.

These days, swimming is rarely an exciting or a memorable event for me. It’s exercise, it’s a distraction, it’s a way to cool off on warm summer mornings. Still, when I’ve finished my laps, I love taking off my goggles and sinking into the water one last time before I climb out. It feels like freedom, every time, and I’m starting to understand why.