Push glide kick kick right kick kick pull rotate left kick kick breathe right kick kick pull rotate left kick kick breathe right kick kick pull rotate left kick kick breathe… It is dark outside
breathe kick kick breathe plunge twist push glide kick kick… Manny is here, finally.
kick kick pull rotate left kick kick breathe right… I can’t be late for work.
right kick kick pull rotate left kick… I hope she’s not with the swim team
kick kick pull… Come on, there are three open lanes
breathe plunge twist push glide… Is that five or six? Damn. Who stole the freaking clock?
glide kick kick … Eight, I think
breathe…1:03? I have got to speed up one minute per lap is so slow.
kick kick… Who gives a shit? You’re just going to undo all of this at lunch.
Breathe… 55, that’s better, use your anger Luke, use the fucking force.
Plunge push… I have got to work on my flip turns, I look like a spastic dolphin
Kick kick left… Stop thinking about her, she’s gone.
Right kick kick left kick kick right kick kick last kick
27…
And one bonus for losing count…
I peeled off my goggles and tossed them onto the bench next to my towel. My throw was off and they hit the edge and clattered on the cold cement floor, leaving the first scratch on the new lens. “Crap.” I muttered under my breath as a rested my head on my forearms, catching my breath. The rhythmic splash in the next lane got louder as she approached, and I watched her glide the last 2 meters before she executed a perfect flip turn. Her deeply tanned bottom winked at me from under a shiny black Speedo, covered with water and spray as she turned pushed and kicked her way into another lap.
I let my body slip under. Closing my eyes I let the cool water calm my heart. I shouldn’t think about Angela while I swim, this makes my heart flutter when it should be pumping strong, and it’s uncomfortable trying to clear away tears inside your goggles. As I floated on my back I let myself sink lower until my shoulder blades touched the bottom of the pool. My heart beat louder in my ears and my lungs began to tighten as my air ran out 10, 9, 8, my heart rate was increasing and I could feel the pressure building in my ears. 7, 6. I pinched off my nose and blew gently to pressurize, not wanting to come up too soon. 5. What if I just stayed here? With one big breath he could be over. 4 Don’t be an idiot, you’d thrash around like a fish and even if you succeeded it would be ugly, and stupid.
3. I blew out the last of my air and let the back of my head rest on the bottom of the pool. I wished I had kept my goggles on so I can look up through the water shimmering, the sunlight now coming through the large windows to my left. I loved watching the sunrise stream through the windows and into the pool. They told me that I was strong enough to swim long enough to see the sunrise, that made me feel good. I like the way the water glowed with the glow of the morning sun behind. It would come through the dirty windows, diffuse and hit the water and on clean days, most days, it made the water shimmer and dance as my arms and legs disturbed it with kicks and strokes and breathing.
2 I clamp down not wanting to give into quickly but I could feel my heart pounding in my ears I knew I should come up.
1. I flashed back to last year when I held my breath a little too long and came up too quickly. That is why it is always best to stand on my right when you need to talk to me. And if I put you on my left, well, no one wants to stand on my left when they have something to say.
I rolled to my stomach and pushed myself up off the bottom of the pool. It’s only 1.2 m deep at that point and I quickly stood with a gasp and opened my eyes.
“What a fucker.” She stood there staring at me with her hands on her slim hips, “You know I was about 10 seconds away from calling 911.” She did not seem amused when I smiled back at her wiping the water out of my eyes.
“Weren’t you going to try to save me yourself?” My attitude was a mix of ‘I don’t give a shit’ and ‘you are so far out of my league it doesn’t matter.’ Of course, the fact that I outweighed her by a good hundred pounds made the thought of her lifting up me off the bottom of the pool a moot point.
“I was only going to call 911 so you didn’t leave a mess in the pool.” She smirked at me, “I don’t want them shutting down my pool because of your crime scene.”
“Crime scene?” I gave in retort.
“Yes,” she said putting her goggles back in place, “your so-called flip turns are criminal.”
She ducked back to underwater and pushed herself over to the wall or she came up for just a moment with her hand on the edge of the pool caught my eye, winked, and pushed off for a long glide before surfacing in steady rhythmic strokes. I shook my head in confusion and hoisted myself out of the water landing with a thud on the pool’s edge.
I felt self-conscious sitting there, my slightly oversized stomach formed a pooch that should have been banished years ago except for my love of ice cream, cheese, and the sweet sweet call of carbohydrates. I stood up and gather the paraphernalia of my swim. My fins and kick board were still dry having been ignored when I felt good enough to go for the long haul. My goal was 18 laps, half a mile, but I felt good and I just kept going. That might’ve been a mistake as, after a few laps, my mind begins began to wander.
I like swimming. I like swimming because it’s difficult to think about anything but swimming. When I go for a run I know that I will have thinking time, the steady rhythm of my feet on the path and the automatic breathing allows me to turn the mechanics over to my body and let my mind take control. But, swimming is different, at least for me. I’m not a good swimmer so I have to think about it. I’m trying to improve my legs so I have to think of rhythm, pacing, my kick, my form. I have to concentrate on my breathing and the timing. My friends say I should breathe every four strokes, left-right-left-right-breathe. They say it’s more energy-efficient for ocean swimming and is faster, but I can’t do it yet. I have to breathe every time my right arm comes up out of the water. I can hold my breath for over 30 seconds, and I can run for miles and catch my breath within moments of finishing, but I can’t do four strokes on one breath in the pool.
I picked up my newly scratched goggles and threw them in the reusable grocery store bag that holds my gear. I fished my phone out of the bottom before it can get dripped on and see that I have no calls.
“Idiot.” I chastised myself for false hope.
She was coming my way in her lane so I dawdled over packing my bag as an excuse to watch one more flip turn. Always the letch, I wasn’t above hesitating to see that black bottomed suit flash at me from the water once more. With perfect timing she kicked, paused, and flipped with a form that betrayed hundreds of hours, thousands of laps, and turn after turn of coached workouts.
She flipped on her back and converted to backstroke so I stared a moment longer. Even when obscured by the clear cool water, it was obvious that she was beautiful. Strong legs, muscular thighs, a suit that cut high upon the hip and tight around the arms and neck meter made her move in the water like an otter. Her arms reached high above her head and pulled efficiently through the water and I began to walk in pace with her along the side of the pool. She turned and stared at me from behind her tinted goggles. She passed the flag line and knew it was time to flip for another perfect turn so I stopped to watch.
My blatant violation of pool etiquette threw her off, her flip was late, and, instead of landing 2 feet on the side of the pool for another powerful push, she smacked her butt into the wall, and crashed, and burned.
She stood up coughing and out of breath, trying to clear the water from her nose and throat. She ripped her goggles off with an urgency that made me nervous and I began to walk over towards her, unsure if I would need to intervene. Feeling guilty for disrupting her rhythm I dropped my bag and towel and jogged over to make sure that she was okay.
With the final cough she put her hands on the edge of the pool to steady herself. I bent down and picked her goggles out of the lane next to her as they floated away.
She looked up at me with malice, “Are you satisfied now you slow old pervert.?”
I sheepishly handed her goggles back to her and muttered an apology. My first reaction was the wrong one, “SLOW?”
She glared again as I laughed.
“I didn’t mean to distract you.” For some reason I did not let go of the rubber strap as she tried to take her goggles from my hand. Our eyes met and I tried to smile, my heart now pounding in my chest for a different reason, “your flip turns are perfect and I just wanted to watch one more.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
breathe kick kick breathe plunge twist push glide kick kick… Manny is here, finally.
kick kick pull rotate left kick kick breathe right… I can’t be late for work.
right kick kick pull rotate left kick… I hope she’s not with the swim team
kick kick pull… Come on, there are three open lanes
breathe plunge twist push glide… Is that five or six? Damn. Who stole the freaking clock?
glide kick kick … Eight, I think
breathe…1:03? I have got to speed up one minute per lap is so slow.
kick kick… Who gives a shit? You’re just going to undo all of this at lunch.
Breathe… 55, that’s better, use your anger Luke, use the fucking force.
Plunge push… I have got to work on my flip turns, I look like a spastic dolphin
Kick kick left… Stop thinking about her, she’s gone.
Right kick kick left kick kick right kick kick last kick
27…
And one bonus for losing count…
I peeled off my goggles and tossed them onto the bench next to my towel. My throw was off and they hit the edge and clattered on the cold cement floor, leaving the first scratch on the new lens. “Crap.” I muttered under my breath as a rested my head on my forearms, catching my breath. The rhythmic splash in the next lane got louder as she approached, and I watched her glide the last 2 meters before she executed a perfect flip turn. Her deeply tanned bottom winked at me from under a shiny black Speedo, covered with water and spray as she turned pushed and kicked her way into another lap.
I let my body slip under. Closing my eyes I let the cool water calm my heart. I shouldn’t think about Angela while I swim, this makes my heart flutter when it should be pumping strong, and it’s uncomfortable trying to clear away tears inside your goggles. As I floated on my back I let myself sink lower until my shoulder blades touched the bottom of the pool. My heart beat louder in my ears and my lungs began to tighten as my air ran out 10, 9, 8, my heart rate was increasing and I could feel the pressure building in my ears. 7, 6. I pinched off my nose and blew gently to pressurize, not wanting to come up too soon. 5. What if I just stayed here? With one big breath he could be over. 4 Don’t be an idiot, you’d thrash around like a fish and even if you succeeded it would be ugly, and stupid.
3. I blew out the last of my air and let the back of my head rest on the bottom of the pool. I wished I had kept my goggles on so I can look up through the water shimmering, the sunlight now coming through the large windows to my left. I loved watching the sunrise stream through the windows and into the pool. They told me that I was strong enough to swim long enough to see the sunrise, that made me feel good. I like the way the water glowed with the glow of the morning sun behind. It would come through the dirty windows, diffuse and hit the water and on clean days, most days, it made the water shimmer and dance as my arms and legs disturbed it with kicks and strokes and breathing.
2 I clamp down not wanting to give into quickly but I could feel my heart pounding in my ears I knew I should come up.
1. I flashed back to last year when I held my breath a little too long and came up too quickly. That is why it is always best to stand on my right when you need to talk to me. And if I put you on my left, well, no one wants to stand on my left when they have something to say.
I rolled to my stomach and pushed myself up off the bottom of the pool. It’s only 1.2 m deep at that point and I quickly stood with a gasp and opened my eyes.
“What a fucker.” She stood there staring at me with her hands on her slim hips, “You know I was about 10 seconds away from calling 911.” She did not seem amused when I smiled back at her wiping the water out of my eyes.
“Weren’t you going to try to save me yourself?” My attitude was a mix of ‘I don’t give a shit’ and ‘you are so far out of my league it doesn’t matter.’ Of course, the fact that I outweighed her by a good hundred pounds made the thought of her lifting up me off the bottom of the pool a moot point.
“I was only going to call 911 so you didn’t leave a mess in the pool.” She smirked at me, “I don’t want them shutting down my pool because of your crime scene.”
“Crime scene?” I gave in retort.
“Yes,” she said putting her goggles back in place, “your so-called flip turns are criminal.”
She ducked back to underwater and pushed herself over to the wall or she came up for just a moment with her hand on the edge of the pool caught my eye, winked, and pushed off for a long glide before surfacing in steady rhythmic strokes. I shook my head in confusion and hoisted myself out of the water landing with a thud on the pool’s edge.
I felt self-conscious sitting there, my slightly oversized stomach formed a pooch that should have been banished years ago except for my love of ice cream, cheese, and the sweet sweet call of carbohydrates. I stood up and gather the paraphernalia of my swim. My fins and kick board were still dry having been ignored when I felt good enough to go for the long haul. My goal was 18 laps, half a mile, but I felt good and I just kept going. That might’ve been a mistake as, after a few laps, my mind begins began to wander.
I like swimming. I like swimming because it’s difficult to think about anything but swimming. When I go for a run I know that I will have thinking time, the steady rhythm of my feet on the path and the automatic breathing allows me to turn the mechanics over to my body and let my mind take control. But, swimming is different, at least for me. I’m not a good swimmer so I have to think about it. I’m trying to improve my legs so I have to think of rhythm, pacing, my kick, my form. I have to concentrate on my breathing and the timing. My friends say I should breathe every four strokes, left-right-left-right-breathe. They say it’s more energy-efficient for ocean swimming and is faster, but I can’t do it yet. I have to breathe every time my right arm comes up out of the water. I can hold my breath for over 30 seconds, and I can run for miles and catch my breath within moments of finishing, but I can’t do four strokes on one breath in the pool.
I picked up my newly scratched goggles and threw them in the reusable grocery store bag that holds my gear. I fished my phone out of the bottom before it can get dripped on and see that I have no calls.
“Idiot.” I chastised myself for false hope.
She was coming my way in her lane so I dawdled over packing my bag as an excuse to watch one more flip turn. Always the letch, I wasn’t above hesitating to see that black bottomed suit flash at me from the water once more. With perfect timing she kicked, paused, and flipped with a form that betrayed hundreds of hours, thousands of laps, and turn after turn of coached workouts.
She flipped on her back and converted to backstroke so I stared a moment longer. Even when obscured by the clear cool water, it was obvious that she was beautiful. Strong legs, muscular thighs, a suit that cut high upon the hip and tight around the arms and neck meter made her move in the water like an otter. Her arms reached high above her head and pulled efficiently through the water and I began to walk in pace with her along the side of the pool. She turned and stared at me from behind her tinted goggles. She passed the flag line and knew it was time to flip for another perfect turn so I stopped to watch.
My blatant violation of pool etiquette threw her off, her flip was late, and, instead of landing 2 feet on the side of the pool for another powerful push, she smacked her butt into the wall, and crashed, and burned.
She stood up coughing and out of breath, trying to clear the water from her nose and throat. She ripped her goggles off with an urgency that made me nervous and I began to walk over towards her, unsure if I would need to intervene. Feeling guilty for disrupting her rhythm I dropped my bag and towel and jogged over to make sure that she was okay.
With the final cough she put her hands on the edge of the pool to steady herself. I bent down and picked her goggles out of the lane next to her as they floated away.
She looked up at me with malice, “Are you satisfied now you slow old pervert.?”
I sheepishly handed her goggles back to her and muttered an apology. My first reaction was the wrong one, “SLOW?”
She glared again as I laughed.
“I didn’t mean to distract you.” For some reason I did not let go of the rubber strap as she tried to take her goggles from my hand. Our eyes met and I tried to smile, my heart now pounding in my chest for a different reason, “your flip turns are perfect and I just wanted to watch one more.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that is all I have for my fitness update this week, fantasy.
Last week I started with confession, this week I’ll just admit defeat. Defeat at the hands of good meaning neighbors who bring over goodies, failure at the hand of a seven-year-old boy who really wanted ice cream, and failure at the hands of nature that have made it rain all week.
I did an okay job at the gym, I got in to half-mile swims, a lot of jump rope, sometime on the treadmill which I detest, and one good run on the day it decided not to rain. I have so far dodged a bullet and am up less than 5 pounds on the scale, there are still two weeks before New Year’s Eve is over.
Technically we have one more fitness post before Christmas, so let’s all go to the sporting goods store and treat ourselves to some new gadget with the excuse that we will use it next year. I hope you all have a wonderful, and healthy, week
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