Travelers Adventure: Swim Across Distance and Time

From Louisville to the Midwest, One Lap at a Time

Leaving Louisville, Kentucky, and driving west, I carry more than just road miles—I carry the rhythm of the water. Each pool I’ve swum in has left its mark, each stroke part of a larger journey. My time swimming at the University of Louisville wasn’t just about conditioning; it planted the seed for a deeper pursuit—one that’s led me to trace a path of pools across the Midwest and beyond to Denver.

In Louisville, swimming was practicality and passion intertwined. Genesis Health Club was a matter of proximity to work —a function  that fit neatly. Mary T. Meagher Aquatic Center, my home with U.S. Masters Swimming, gave me a dependable rhythm and the comfort of camaraderie. But it was the pool at the University of Louisville that transformed the act of swimming into something more—a meditative, sacred zen ritual. The atmosphere, the the water, the way it carried me forward—it became a symbol of pursuit, of movement, of forward motion across both time and space.

Now, I drive westward with a simple goal: to swim. But not just swim. I’m documenting the journey—the pools, the communities, the cultures around them. Each facility tells a story, from the layout of the lanes to echoning laughter and swim back ground music. This is more than a workout log. It’s a chronicle of discovery.

First Stop: St. Louis
The pilgrimage begins at the aquatic center on the St. Louis Campus, where the water greets me differently. It’s colder, clearer, more reverberant with local energy. The swim feels new—not better or worse, just another verse in the ongoing rhythm. This pool carries its own character, shaped by a different set of regulars, lifeguards, and early risers. It’s the first of 4, but already I feel the map of my journey starting to take shape—one marked not by interstates, but by water temperatures and tile patterns.

A Culinary Detour: Salt + Smoke
Of course, no visit to St. Louis is complete without honoring another local tradition: barbecue. And when in the Ballpark Village District, one does more than swim—they stop, and they smell the smoked meats.

Salt + Smoke came recommended—by Gui’s DDD. I ordered a half rack of ribs, slick with spicy sauce, alongside a vinegary coleslaw and a bowl of brisket chili that held nothing back. But the surprise and delight of the meal is the popover. 

Golden on the outside, impossibly airy within, it was the quiet star of the plate—a mark of a kitchen that respects fundamentals while embracing flair. That popover, like

a perfect lap or an unexpected stretch of open road, reminded me why this journey matters: for the things you don’t expect, the flavors and feelings that surface only when you give yourself space to discover.

Salt + Smoke wasn’t just a great meal—it was an embodiment of place. Just like the pool, it reflected a culture. And just like the water, it offered something to carry forward.

Kansas City, Missouri 

The Swim

The drive into Kansas City carried the quiet evening. I arrived at the Swinney Recreation Center on the campus of UMKC, a facility that blends student energy with local presence. The pool sits just beyond and up into the center of campus life, calm and tucked into the thrum of academia.

My early morning swim here is grounded. The lanes were wide and inviting, the lighting soft but focused—no harsh glare, just enough glow to feel present in the moment. There’s a different kind of discipline in university pools, shaped by the steady cadence of student-athletes and regulars who have made this place their sanctuary. It wasn’t flashy, but it was honest. And in that honesty, it offered something essential: the calm, quiet and clarity.

The Culture

At Swinney, I noticed a cross-section of swimmers—students between classes, older masters. the unifier.

There was no music piped in, just the rhythmic splash of strokes, the soft hum of  quiet.  

The Taste

Kansas City is barbecue country—everyone has an opinion, and loyalties run deep. So I did what anyone on a pilgrimage would do: I surrendered to the rivalry.

Stop two: Arthurs Bryants and the comparison as “A Tale of Two Cities BBQ” in Mo.. The name alone pulled me in, and the food sealed it. I ordered burnt ends—KC’s calling card—paired with a smoked sausage link and a side of pit beans. The sauce was balanced and sweet and when asked to be dressed – “it is on the table”, Hmm. Continue with the experience the brisket served on whit bread and is as expected.

Arthurs vibe is easygoing and proudly local.

Arthur Bryant’s. A legend. You don’t come here expecting frills—you come for history, heft, and sauce with attitude. I went with it and doused .

Omaha Omaha