Forget those images of lifeguards and swimmers with teeth sparkling white in their tanned faces. Apparently, swimmer’s teeth is a thing.
What is it and how does it happen? Apparently the chlorine and other pool chemicals can change the ph in your mouth, leading the discolouration, tartar, and even softened, cracked teeth. A swimmer friend brought it to my attention, and the consensus in our little group is that it can be a real issue.
All three of us have more than normal tartar at every dental check-up, and one has issues with discolouration and cracking. I’m curious about how many members of our respective swim clubs also suffer from it.
The advice to manage it all seems to boil down to: brush your teeth, especially before exercising; drink plenty of water; avoid sugary drinks and snacks; get to the dentist regularly.
This is good advice for everyone, so I’ll tuck this information away, keep up with my dental hygiene, and swim as often as possible in lakes or rivers.
A woman in a grey bathing cap and goggles shows off her smile from a pool with dark blue water.
Today I turn 65. I already belong to a Facebook group called Senior Lifeguards.
I just finished my skills of the month which are basically the same as the fitness tests for my National Lifeguard certification. I redid that qualification a month ago.
It sometimes seems like a crazy thing to do this job, but I love it. Happy birthday though me!
The back of my red pinny folded to show the words lifeguard/sauveteur in whire, with my green whistle attached by a cord so it’s handy in case of emergencies.
I recently needed to do the recertification exam for my lifeguard qualifications. It’s mandatory every two years and not really a big deal since I practice the skills regularly at work.
As usual, I was much older than almost everyone else there. Again, no big deal. I’m used to being – by far – the oldest lifeguard wherever I work. But apparently that is weird to some of the other lifeguards.
Following the fitness portion of our exam, one of the youngsters asked how old I was. When I told him, his response was “you’re in really good shape!”. I could almost see the thought bubble over his head “compared to my grandma.”
Kiddo, I have to do the exact same tests as you to hold the exact same job. I’m not unusually fit. I’m merely someone who has chosen to be visibly active in a way that you happened to notice.
The incident amused me because there were no real consequences. When I was trying to get hired, it was more of an issue. Same when I’m dealing with medical questions. I’m going to try and ignore them for the moment and enjoy my little giggle about the thought bubble. And remember that women far fitter than me have been called “grandmother” without acknowledging their remarkable achievements. Amy Apelhans Gubser I’m looking at you!
And for good measure, here’s a picture of me (a grandmother) with a group of my grandmother friends.
Five women in colourful bathing caps and suits, taking a selfie in the lake. Three of us are grandmothers.
My beloved and I are both cajoling our middle aged bodies these days. Our physiotherapist, Emily, recommended rock climbing or swimming for our upper body mobility and strength.
Monday morning we sat drinking coffee and looked at our options. Family membership at the Y runs $180 a month. Goodlife pools are not for doing lengths.
Membership at Western for both of us ran about $1000. Yikes!
Thankfully for people looking for once a week lane swim the City of London has 10 visit pool passes and a convenient location just a couple clicks from our house which runs about $5 a week.
Indoor pool lanes are so calming and comfortable.
Monday night we got goggles, cap and suits. Wednesday night we were doing laps. Easy peasy.
I love swimming and I feel at home there. It may be almost 10 years since I last did a lap. My body remembers.
Warm up of kicking and pulls. Easy front crawl. Breast stroke. Pulls. Front crawl. Breast stroke. I didn’t focus on speed or distance, just form and breathing.
I cooled down with sidestroke, sculls and a quick stretch. Michel had more structure to his workout. We left satisfied and committed to going back next week. Yay!
Lots of people start the new year with some sort of physical activity, signalling their intention to be active. This year, I decided to signal my intention to make time for rest.
I spent two glorious days lounging in bed: napping, cuddling cats, and watching old movies.
Cat tax: this is Milo, my grey and white shorthaired fellow, who flopped into my arms and demanded cuddles on New Year’s Day.
I think it did me some good. I went to swim practice on January 3 and did more distance than usual I even did some full stroke instead of babying my sore ankle by doing arms only with a pull buoy.
Wish me luck remembering to rest for at least some of the next 355 days!
No this is not a rant about my provincial government and its overreach into municipal affairs, especially in ways that make it less safe for people using active transport such as walking or cycling. Sam Covered that on Monday.
It’s a rant about the fact that far too many men* assume they should be in faster swim lanes and the women** who are obviously much faster assume their place is in a slower lane.
To be clear, I don’t mean the people who miscalculate their speed and move quickly to the correct lane. I’m also not talking about the people who take advantage of empty lanes but move when faster or slower people arrive.
It’s also important to note that most public pools, at least, have signage for fast, medium, slow and leisure lanes. Many also provide instructions on which direction to swim when sharing a lane, how to pass safely, and a reminder to assess your speed against other swimmers and move up or down a lane if you are passing (or being passed) regularly.
It’s not hard to figure out whether you are where you should be, if you are willing to be honest about your abilities.
Occasionally lifeguards will even intervene to sort it out; in my training, this was considered one of the most unpleasant public relations activities because of the egos involved.
Intervention can be necessary because being in the wrong lane makes swimming more dangerous and prone to crashes as faster swimmers try to navigate around the slower ones.
At best, it sometimes minimizes conflicts between the people who are there for a steady workout and those who like to sprint past, only to stand at the end of the lane, blocking space so other swimmers can’t do efficient turns. Or those that see no need to move to a slower lane when working on drills or slower strokes.
This seems to be a common phenomenon. I see it regularly while lifeguarding or lane swimming, and it often arises as a concern in large swimming forums I belong to.
Interestingly, it is much less of an issue in swim club practices – probably because coaches are ruthless about sorting swimmers into the correct lanes. The women I know who refuse to cede the lane to slower men are almost always club swimmers.
My plea to women swimmers is to acknowledge your power and claim your lane. And to those who seem to think those swimmers don’t deserve the space: stay in your lane.
I knew my 16-day trip to Egypt with 3 midlife friends would be a fun, budget-friendly adventure, but it also became a test of stamina and strength for me.
We had no tour big bus providing a comfy, air-conditioned bubble. Rather, our ambitious travel schedule took us through half the country, hauling our backpacks up modest hotel staircases and navigating every natural and human-made obstacle in our path. Although we had quiet evenings, including a few days by a rooftop pool, by day our bodies were moving in lots of ways.
Our first of many tomb and temple visits, the burial chamber of Bannentiu, 26th dynasty (Roman Era) in the Baharia Oasis.
Bodies in Motion
In the desert near the Baharia Oasis we climbed up (then surfed down) sand dunes. In downtown Cairo, the honking cars, uneven pavement, and throngs of moving people in the street demanded constant physical manouvering. We toured ancient sites out in the hot sun, including Luxor’s Avenue of Sphinxes and Aswan’s Forgotten Obelisk. We also used steep ramps and narrow tunnels inside multiple tombs and pyramids, crouching under low ceilings carved over three and four thousand years ago!
Folks climbing a ramp in one of the Giza Pyramids, built for Pharoah Khufu in the 2500s BCE. Kim said the ramps were put in after her visit 16 years ago: before it was just dirt.
As well, we hiked three silent, stunning canyons in the South Sinai region that shimmered white, red, and multi-coloured in the sunshine. The next day, after a caravan of camels and their handlers got us most of the way up Mt Sinai, we used 750 steep steps to get up to its peak.
Riding Asfour (the Second), a 7-year old camel up the first 3000 steps of My Sinai was a highlight. And although Asfour did most of the work, my legs were still sore the next day!
Later, it was a relief to float face down in the salty water of the Red Sea over the most beautiful coral and schools of fish I have seen. We snorkelled twice: off the beach in Sharm El Sheik and off a glass-bottom boat in Hurghada. But even in and near the water, I had to be thinking about dehydration and sunburn.
Kimi and me snorkelling just off the beach in the Red Sea. Video by Lisa Porter.
Getting hurt could mean getting stuck. I nearly did a few times, once when I mildly rolled an ankle in the Coloured Canyon and when I jammed a finger on a tomb doorway at the Saqqara necropolis. But it felt good to keep moving. At least twice we saw a tourist who seemed unprepared or was having great difficulty getting through the tomb shafts.
Kim and Lisa going down the low-lit ramps in what I think was the Step Pyramid, built for Pharoah Djoser in the 2600s BCE. Video by Kimi Maruoka.
We covered thousands of steps per day, even on our 2- to 7-hour travel days. At the last minute I decided to leave my fitness tracker at home, and I’m glad I did. It helped me to make sense of how I was feeling in my body rather than by stats on a screen.
Rope repelling, then a rebar ladder, just to get down into the White Canyon. Our guide admitted he used this to judge hikers’ readiness for this canyon.
Caring Co-Travellers
And my body did feel many things, as I was under the weather for a good part of the trip: first menstrual cramps, a head cold that turned to cough, then mild heatstroke after the first time snorkeling, and finally a stomach bug. On my worst night, I laid awake shaking with chills, sipping tepid tablet-purified water, and waiting for dawn (or death, I had thought self-piteously).
A short video of Cairo’s downtown streets at night. Our group kept close watch on each other to avoid getting lost or run over.
But I survived. As a white, English-speaking tourist with a credit card and travel insurance on a holiday, I was never really in serious danger. I saw many Egyptians who may have been facing economic hardships and health risks I will never have to deal with as a middle-class Canadian.
Nevertheless, I am so grateful for my three travel buddies, who showed each other constant care throughout our journey. We divided snacks, each bought rounds of water, shared everything from tissues to electrolytes, and carried the mood for each other until someone sick (usually me) recovered.
A cat next to my day pack and water bottle. I stayed hydrated with old and new friends!
Kim, who had planned the travel and booked the local guides and drivers, happily made last-minute arrangements to help me join later when an early morning tour of Isis Temple in Aswan wasn’t possible for me. This caring company was the heart of my trip.
Me in a feeling-better moment, making silly Instagram poses with the backdrop of the Red Canyon behind me. Photos by Kimi Maruoka.
Proof of Life
I believe that our greater exertions paid off in greater fun. In exchange for living out of packs and in our sore, dust-covered bodies, we got to see and sleep in neat places, including under the desert stars, where we felt extremely lucky to be there, together and alive.
Our remarkable view of the white desert at night. This photo was not taken with a black/white filter.
There’s a certain idea of midlife that says to slow down, be careful, rest more. This trip refused that. It demanded and invited all kinds of motion, reminding me how much the body can still do when it must. It turns out that I was strong enough for Egypt.
Lisa and Elan racing (falling?) down a sand dune in the White Desert. Photo by either Kim or Kimi.
And by the end of the trip, I used nearly every pill I’d packed and every muscle I had. But getting over everything became part of my adventure story. I came home with a mildly sprained finger, hardwon but still overpriced souvenirs, and a feeling that my flawed and frustrating body could still bring me much, much joy.
Our fearless foursome trekking in the desert. To borrow a phrase from Kimi and her sisters: “We did it!!”
Back in 2022, I mused about using my power for good by becoming a lifeguard and giving back to the sport I love so much.
Since I started working almost a year ago, I have taken great pleasure in teaching recent immigrants who are five times more likely than people born in Canada to be non-swimmers. I have also had the joy of lifeguarding for a day at the pool for women who are normally excluded from swimming because beaches and pools are mixed gender.
This week was extra special. In the summer, a teen drowned at one of the city’s beaches. Teachers at their high school responded by getting a Jumpstart grant so that girls who had never learned to swim could take female-only lessons. They even bought a big bin full of modest swimwear and sports hijabs to be used by anyone who wanted them.
We blocked all the windows for privacy and I had the pleasure of teaching 20 teen girls to put their heads under water, jump in (a couple even tried it in the deep end), float, glide, and try some basic strokes.
The girls were great – smiling, overcoming their fears and helping each other. The teachers were wonderful too. I really appreciated that both got into the water and worked with students so that a few were able to swim most of the width of the pool by the end of class.
Not “my” girls. These young women wearing modest swimsuits and floating peacefully in a bright blue swimming pool are from a Nike modest swimwear ad campaign found on models.com. The photographer is Paola Kudaki.
It was the perfect way to hit 225 on my 225 workouts in 2025 goal.
Sadly, this was only a substitute assignment for me because the regular teacher was sick. I have put my name in to be called first if she needs to be away again, and offered to teach any future sessions that might be offered.
Old Ladies Against Underwater Garbage is a group I would like to join. Sadly, the group works in Cape Cod, so I can’t actually join, but how awesome is their mission statement from their website?
In 2017, Old Ladies Against Underwater Garbage, OLAUG, was formed. We have been cleaning up ponds on Cape Cod from Falmouth to Chatham ever since. Gathering small teams of swimmers, ages 65 to 85, we sweep along the shallows, diving down to pick up beer cans, golf balls, fishing lures, waterlogged dog toys, hats, jackets, shoes, and occasionally a tire, cell phone or box of spent fireworks.
Whatever we heave up from the bottom, we hand to the Garbage Collector who paddles a canoe or kayak. Our affection and respect for the fish, turtles, and plants that live in the ponds are what motivates us. Well, that and cookies.
Five women stand in thigh deep water holding a toilet they have pulled out of the water. They all have huge smiles and are obviously very pleased with their “catch”. Photo is from the OLAUG Facebook page.
I heard a couple of the members interviewed a few weeks ago and was impressed with the level of fitness required.
Swimmers, without fins, need to be:
able to swim ½ mile freestyle in 30 minutes or less
able to swim a mile
comfortable spending 1.5 hours in the water, with a lot of treading water
comfortable and proficient swimming with mask and snorkel
comfortable diving down 6-9 feet to retrieve trash.
Kayakers need to be able to:
maneuver easily without knocking into swimmers
keep your kayak steady while receiving sometimes heavy trash on one side from a swimmer
keep your kayak steady in windy conditions
keep track of swimmers and tell them if they are getting too far away
paddle while a tired or injured swimmer hangs onto the bow
right themself or get safely to shore should they capsize.
There are tryouts to ensure everyone can meet the standard.
I sometimes pick up underwater trash when I’m swimming, and I follow various organizations who clean up ocean plastics, or rescue animals snared in fishing gear or other materials, so I have an extra appreciation for the work these women are doing.
The organization is small but starting to grow in new locations. If someone were to open a chapter in the Ottawa area, I would love to join.
A line of women, most wearing red shirts, stands on a sandy beach in front of a collection of trash that probably came from the water in the background.
I love the elderly swimmers at my pool. I’m not sure of their ages, but I would guess most are 70-90 years old
They are there every day. They have terrible swim strokes (inefficient, barely moving their arms or legs, or both). Some don’t swim at all. They do aquafit movements and stretches. A few like to do pull-ups using the starting blocks.
But the social aspect is the most important thing. They know all the others, hop around a bit in the shallow water while chatting, or tease and sometimes goof around splashing each other like pre-teens.
I treat every swim like a training swim, trying to get more streamlined, pull and kick stronger, aiming to be as efficient as a shark. But I have learned to love the people who have a grand time every day, while swimming as efficiently as a clownfish or batfish.
Clownfish can swim, but settle into their little plot of anemone and early move more than a few feet from there, so they aren’t particularly efficient swimmers.
According to the Bristol Aquariun, “Batfish aren’t winning any races against their fellow fish anytime soon. In fact, these unusual bottom-dwellers can barely swim at all. Instead, they scamper across the seafloor on their pectoral, pelvic and anal fins, rather like a frog or crustacean.”
Thankfully, my swimmers don’t need to adapt to their surroundings. We have learned to adapt to their needs with things like steps or a ramp into the water, and equipment like flotation belts and aquafit weights available for them to use.
What other equipment and modifications can we make to public facilities to encourage older people to keep active? I would love to hear your ideas.
