The Y waited in the gray drizzle this morning, doors sliding open like a slow inhale. I went alone, bag on shoulder, carrying towel, lock, and swimsuit. The lobby carried its usual mix of coffee and chlorine, a scent that feels like both welcome and warning, as if the building wants to remind you that effort and comfort live side by side here.

First, I settled onto a recumbent bike. Low seat, pedals forward, the kind of machine that lets you lean back a little, legs moving like steady oars. The screen glowed with numbers I barely watched. Beyond the fogged windows the street blurred, people passing like shadows in watercolor. The bike seemed content to carry me through the minutes, humming beneath me as though pleased to share its rhythm.

Then the pool. Ninety degrees, five feet deep, a body of water that felt more like a living thing than a facility feature. Stepping in was like being welcomed into its arms, warm against the skin, the depth just enough to hold me without ever letting me disappear. Plenty of space, no rush, no crowding, the water stretching wide and patient. Each lap was less about distance and more about drifting through the gentle embrace, lights above shimmering like constellations stirred by the smallest stroke.

I briefly lingered at the edge after swimming, towel wrapped tight absorbing stray drops before I headed back to the changing area, listening to the pool breathe under the echoes of children’s laughter at the far end. The humid air wrapped itself around me, heavy but comforting, like the last word in a quiet conversation.

When I stepped outside again, drizzle cooled my skin and hair. I felt as though the pool had pressed its warmth into me, a secret gift from the water, carried out into the gray day like a blessing.

#roanokeva #salemva #ymca