Slowly but Shirley

Shirley Shackleford was a slow mover.  She didn’t have a fast-forward button anywhere on her.  She wasn’t lazy or indecisive; she worked hard, got things done; it just took her longer than most people. And she was always late.

Shirley’s friends planned around her slowness.  When they were going somewhere, they told her they’d pick her up thirty minutes before they actually did until she caught on. Then, they said she’d have to meet them there.  Shirley never once saw the beginning of a movie or got to a restaurant before the others had ordered.  Her friends had given up waiting on her. If that upset her, it wasn’t enough to change her ways.

One summer, a bunch of guys, ex-jocks, mostly, challenged several female friends to swim across a nearby river. It was actually more of a dare for the females to race each other. The guys thought it’d be fun to see what the gals could do. However, they did sweeten the dare with a weekend in a beautiful vacation home on a nearby lake, owned by one of their members, as a prize to the winner. A great enticement, as you can imagine. They figured whoever won would have a party and naturally include them. A win-win.

It would not be an easy swim, but the gals didn’t want to be chicken in front of the jocks, so a group of Shirley’s friends decided to enter and jokingly, asked her if she planned to. When she said she thought she might, the news spread, and bets were placed on her coming in last.

“She probably won’t even make it to the middle,” someone said. Then, another, “Well, if she does, it’ll probably take her a week.” Shirley heard the talk and decided to make them eat their words!

Every afternoon, after work, Shirley went to the neighborhood pool and swam laps, increasing her stamina and distance. She watched her diet and ate energy-producing foods. She went to bed at a reasonable hour and exercised every morning before going to work. She began to feel better than she had in ages. And she looked better—healthier, happier.  She did, at times, worry about the currents in the river and debris, but the guys said not to worry, they’d have members in kayaks patrolling the swimmers.

The big day arrived. 

The guys had all placed bets on Shirley to come in last.  Some of the so-called girl friends noticed Shirley’s new healthy, trim look but still voted against her, but a few, who realized she must have been training, were actually glad for her and bet on her to win.

The competitors lined up on the southern shore. The whistle shrilled loudly, and they were off. There was lots of splashing, heads above water, adjusting of goggles, nose clips, etc.  Shirley stroked powerfully, steadily, maintaining an even pace, leading the pack. About midway across, she looked up to see a large tree branch coming downriver toward her and the others behind her. She tried to shove it out of the way, but only succeeded in turning it sideways, blocking the other girls. They yelled at Shirley, thinking she’d done it on purpose. “Well, help me!” she yelled back. Not a kayak in sight.

With a combined effort, they pushed it on downriver, and the girls were again, on their way. Several of them were breathing hard from the effort, but they persevered. Shirley continued to lead, but once when she looked to the side, one of the girls was getting swept off course by the current and was going more sideways than across, and she looked scared. 

“Keep kicking and hold on to my shoulder,” Shirley told her, as she looked around for a kayak. She saw a guy beside one of the swimmers farther back, laughing and talking. She put two fingers in her mouth, giving a shrill whistle, and waving her other arm, beckoning him over.  When he got there, he told the girl to hang on to the back, and he headed back to shore.

Shirley took off again, now behind the pack, but not for long. Her strong, even strokes moved her ahead, until she finally reached the dock on the other side, and climbed up. Then she gave a hand up to those who needed help. Everybody collapsed on the dock, getting their wind back. One by one, her ex-lunch pals got up and came and sat by her and told her how great she’d been and apologized for being such jerks.

And Shirley? Well, she won the weekend at the lake house, and invited her friends who were surprised and delighted to learn she was not only a fantastic cook but a mean poker player.  

The guys were not invited.