Fate has kicked me in the gut once again.

At the risk of evoking a critical level of pity and having that backfire at me in the second paragraph of this essay, I’m going to mention a sad little easily-solved problem that unfortunately knocked me low again this week: they are closing the pool where I’ve been swimming for “three months of critical maintenance.”

“They aren’t doing it to you personally!” My wife rolled her eyes at me when I showed her the notice.

“Maybe not, but the universe seems to have it in for me lately.” I replied.

I’ve been a swimmer for years, but after a year-long hiatus I broke down and spent money on an annual pass to the local pool with the intention of getting back into my routine. I just bought the pass three weeks ago. According to the email, in a mere week’s time the pool will be closing for three whole months. The next nearest pool is a twenty minute drive from my house, and the activation energy that gets me from prone on the couch to jumping into a swim lane with my goggles strapped over my face does not seem strong enough to include a commute. One more barrier, my brain is telling me. One more kick in the gut by my friend fate. 

Sigh. 

I’m whining. I know that. But damned if the universe doesn’t seem like it’s decided to pick on me personally as of late. Objectively speaking millions of people might have it orders of magnitude worse, but personal struggle is both subjective and relative isn’t it?

I was told that when I set out to make a life change, to upend everything I had built over the years in my career—in search of something more interesting, more satisfying, more purposeful—that by the end of it I would have experienced a range of emotions from high to low, buffeted by self-doubt, refined in crystal clarity, and everything in between all at once. I shrugged off the notion, not because I didn’t believe the prediction but because I figured I could roll with it, whatever came my way, all of it. 

A voyage across an ocean without a map is an apt metaphor. Each day at sea is a little different—maybe closer to shore, maybe not. A storm may roil one day or the sun may beat down on another. Little things make all the difference in the world, and having my swimming pool closed for a few months felt like a man adrift at sea who had just watched his favourite hat fly into the yonder on a gust of wind. No the wind didn’t do it to him personally, but it is tough not to feel that way—for a little bit.