IF I'M LATE, CALL THE POLICE

 

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My heart was racing and I hadn't yet started my morning exercise. The iwatch's app confirmed that my resting heart rate of 65 had already skyrocketed to 100. As I changed into my bathing suit, I tried deep breaths, and resisted again peering at my wrist to learn how late I would be to claim my lane.

 Although I had arrived at the health club's revolving door at 5:45 a.m. and assumed I'd have sufficient time to be in the water for my 6:00 a.m. pool registration, I didn't count on City of Chicago regulations that kept the doors closed until the very same hour.

 While the rational part of my brain knew that my lane would be reserved for 45 minutes, the amygdala, located deep inside my brain, was signaling distress. I envisioned another swimmer -- possibly a muscled guy -- unregistered but jumping into my lane before I arrived. If the pool manager hadn't yet taken her place to confirm schedules, I'd have to confront and oust the interloper.

 But once I saw an unrippled lane, sans swimmer, I finally calmed down.

 As you might have surmised through my journey of craziness, I loathe being late. You will see me at the airport two hours before flight time. While normal people may opt to sleep in prior to travel, I prefer strolling through the terminal at my 65 resting pulse, and lounge until I am one of the first to line up for departure.

 If you and I are to meet for lunch, I will likely arrive 15 minutes before you, be seated at a favorable table, have perused the menu and am ready to blurt out my choice to the waitperson before you have had a chance to shuck your coat.

 My habit is so well known among friends that I joke, "If I'm late, call the police,"

 Because I have wondered where this intense need to never be late comes from, I searched and found a 2018 article in Bustle Magazine written by Marissa Higgins, who posited 5 reasons some people are always early.

 I scratched off "drilled into during childhood," "you respect other's time," "you assume the worst," and instead glommed onto these two: "you may have anxiety," and "you're a natural leader."

 Let's tackle the first theory for my intense fear of being late: anxiety. I assume that if you tagged along with me through the swimming pool ordeal, you would be nodding your head.

 But again, where doth it come from? Author Higgins suggests we dig a little deeper, and after shoveling back through the decades, I unearthed this artifact: somebody will be mad at me. Now, where and why this relic resounds, I have no idea.  When, in an exemplary childhood, did I anger someone? I once attempted to give myself a break thinking, "So what? I can handle someone being mad at me," which was easier to conjure, but harder to apply.

 The other explanation Higgins offers, that seems to counter scaredy-cat me, is "You're a natural leader." She writes, "Do your friends joke about how you're such a Type A personality and you love to be in control? If you're always early, it's possible you live for the thrill of figuring out the details and orchestrating the event."

 Hel-lo. Higgins just described this person (me) who won't join a group unless she's in charge, and will host a Zoom book club so she can select the volume for discussion, as well as date and time for the meeting. Let's also hear it for the gal who hosts a Zoom wine time at the weekday and hour of her choice.

 In some ways, these two explanations for my fear of being late appear to be at odds. Numero uno seems to describe a shaky little gal who worries she'll anger someone, and the other, a badass who leads with her bicep tattoos rather than her 4'9" height.

 While we contemplate this conundrum, I'm taking an easier route: for my next swim date: I've registered for a 6:45 am lane, 45 minutes after doors open and all operations are smoothly underway.

 That way, if I depart from my apartment (across the street from my health club), at 6:25, that gives me plenty of time to change and hop into the water on time. And, as long as another club member doesn't stop me to chat (horrors), I should be calm and ready to jump in my lane, and raise my heart rate in a healthier way.