My New Year’s resolutions: be more kind, patient and accepting of other people, graduate with honors in August, and (like most people) lose weight!

So far, no one has commented on my more kind and patient temperament. And graduating with honors will take the rest of this semester to determine. But losing weight is something I can work on right now.

The weather is a bit chilly for me to try power walking on a regular basis. The gym in the University Center is too intimidating for me. So I chose swimming as my best bet at aerobic exercise to help me lose weight.

My previous experiences at the pool at the Elam Center have been perfectly fine. The lifeguards remind me not to horseplay or hold onto the ropes. But what will they do about saving my life?

On Monday, Jan. 13, I went to the Elam Center to swim for an hour. I began by using a kick board (a flotation device shaped like a small surfboard) to warm up.

After several laps, I decided to alternate between laps with the kick board and without.

As the hour came to a close, I decided to do one more lap as fast and hard as I could without the kick board. About a fourth of the way down the lane, I got a terrible cramp in my right leg. I couldn’t swim anymore. I held onto the ropes and tried to massage the cramp out. Did any of the lifeguards say or do anything as I showed signs of distress? Nope.

Finally I decided to try to make it back to the edge of the pool. I had to float on my back in order to do this because my leg was so cramped I couldn’t move it. When I reached the edge of the pool, I propped my leg up on it trying to stretch the muscle and loosen the cramp. Did a lifeguard come to my aid? Nope.

Then I tried to lift myself out of the pool. The ache in my leg didn’t help, but I finally got onto the edge. I continued massaging my leg in hopes that when I stood up I would be able to walk on it. Did a lifeguard even acknowledge that I had a problem? Nope.

I carefully stood up and headed for the dressing room. My limp was very obvious. A lady was sitting in a chair next to the wall, and as I approached the hallway to the dressing rooms she asked me if I was hurt. I told her about my cramp within hearing of one of the lifeguards. The lifeguard looked over at me, but did she make any comment? Nope.

Now I didn’t expect some kind of Baywatch scene to erupt because I had a cramp in my leg. But at least a show of concern by the people entrusted with the safety of the swimmers in the pool would have been nice.

If even one had asked me if I was going to be ok, this article would never have been written.

After this happened to me I told a friend about it. He said that once he was in the same situation. After jumping from the diving board several times, he landed in the water and immediately had a cramp in his leg.

Obviously, he was in the deepest water in the pool and trying to swim with only his arms. He kept sinking and resurfacing, but none of the lifeguards seemed to notice.

When he finally reached the edge of the pool, he had swallowed so much water that he began vomiting.

What was the reponse of the lifeguards on duty? “You know you’re going to have to clean that up.”

Is this the kind of expert help that students, faculty and community members can expect when they go the Elam Center pool?

Perhaps the lifeguards have forgotten some their training in how to notice when a person is in trouble in the water.

Or maybe they’ve just lost the desire to help people. Isn’t that the reason a person decides to become a lifeguard - to help people?

So if I want to swim at the Elam Center, I suppose I’ll just have to accept the risks. I might as well assume there is no rescue personal in the vicinity at all.

I guess I’ll have to brave the gym at the University Center if I want to make my new year’s resolution a reality. You’ll be able to pick me out there. I’ll be the girl in a baggy shirt and sweatpants sitting on the exercise bike and dreaming of a time when it was just as safe to swim, as it is to sit on a stationary bicycle.

Kristin Beno is a senior Communications major from Dyer.