Swing Swing Swing

I love swings. Have I said that before? I feel as though I should have, but I haven’t, so I’m correcting that now. I love swings. I always have and I probably always will. It’s the perfect way to relax and get some exercise at the same time. What could be better?

I don’t remember exactly when I learned to swing. It’s one of those funny things that you don’t think about learning after you learn it. You aren’t born knowing how to swing. You have to learn how to pump your legs back and forth and use your arms to keep the momentum going and so on and so forth and it’s really all very complex for a three/four year old to understand. I do remember, however, that it was my brother who managed to teach me. I remember sitting on the small swing set we had in our backyard and him showing me how it was done. Fond memories, tucked away for use as pointless anecdotes in blog rants.

At any rate, since the moment I figured out how to make myself go back and forth on a swing I’ve been completely in love with the activity. I guess it goes back to the fact that I am very easily amused and always have been. The simple motion of going back and forth on a piece of wood or rubber or plastic attached to some cross beam by two chains of hopefully equal length is enough to keep me entertained for hours, and often has. Growing up I was always that one kid who instead of playing with everyone else, ran for the swings right away and stayed there until the bell rang to line up again. I am convinced it was not healthy for my development, especially considering that I would often talk to myself as I swung.

This comes to no surprise for those of you who know me well, but one of my favorite things to do growing up and even still today is to swing and talk to myself. More often than not, if there’s no one around, I sing to myself, which I guess is healthier than talking. I would generally be doing one of two things, singing Disney songs or making up stories. As shameful as it is to admit, I was kind of into fan-fiction before I even knew what it was. I’ve never actually written any fan-fiction, mind you, but as a child I would make up stories about what all of the Disney princesses and princes and so on did after the movie ended and they had their happily ever after. They were never very exciting.

There is only one real bad thing about swinging and that’s the blisters. Like I said, I tend to swing for hours on end if I get the chance. After a while, though your legs get tired, your butt hurts from sitting so long and your hands get blisters from holding on as you swing. It’s been a while since I had any actual blisters from it but I do currently have several sore spots on my hands from swinging with my sister for an hour and a half on Sunday. I feel it’s much better to swing and talk than to sit and talk. I’ve tried wearing gloves, but I doubt they were the right kind for true hand protection. Maybe someday I’ll find a good pair of gloves for swinging; that would be nice. I would feel like a total dork putting on fancy swinging gloves just to play on the swings at the park, but I think I’d be okay with that. After all, I’m already a huge dork already. Can’t get any worse, right?