In order to graduate from my college, you had to pass a swimming course. (The school legend is that the donor for the athletic centre had a daughter who drowned and so made that a condition for his gift.) I wasn't looking forward to it because I'd gone to swimming lessons at least three times before and flunked every time. But then my teacher showed me the backstroke and back crawl and I was like, Wait, I can swim WITHOUT having to put my face in the water? Holy moly, this shit is fun! Turns out it wasn't the swimming I didn't like, it was the breathing. Also, I was too ectomorphic back in the day to float well, so just treading water was a bitch, but time and tide have taken care of that.