The
endless hot tub had finally been delivered and set up. It had taken a day or two for the water to warm up properly as well as give all the chemicals a chance to filter through the system, and now it was time to give it a test run. Sure it was frigid outside, but once I got in the tub, it wouldn't be nearly so bad. Wasn't like I could catch a chill anyway.
I set the biggest, fluffiest towel I could find on the table I'd put next to the tub and climbed in. The water was perfect: just short of painfully scalding. I flipped on the jets for the endless pool side of it and turned up the speed to a good clip. The steaming water pushed against me, challenging me, as I swam freestyle, concentrating on my stroke and pace. I quickly fell into a stroke-two-three-breathe pattern and my mind began to wander.
I remembered the Roman affinity for baths, in particular, their occupation of a town they called
Aquæ Sulis. I knew the Romans considered baths and bathing to be a social event. I'd heard it said once that if the Colosseum was the heart of Rome, the baths were its soul.
If only Romans had discovered and implemented electricity, there would've been a hot tub in every home, I mused silently.
But I knew that necessity was indeed the mother of invention. The Romans had no need to have a bath in every home, and probably didn't want to give up their "social hour." Still, there was definitely something to be said for this endless pool/hot tub combination.
It was nearly an hour and a good half-dozen miles later when I finally decided to stop swimming. I could definitely tell that I'd gotten a better workout than I realized. I turned down the jets to the pool and cranked up the ones to the spa before planting myself in one of the seats.
The jets hit my back in all the right places. Although the pounding water couldn't take the place of a skilled massage therapist, it was a damn near thing. I sighed, contented and relaxed for the first time since leaving Colorado.