Wednesday, July 20, 2005

I sat up rubbing my eyes. Ahh, evening naps on the couch at times when I could hardly keep my eyes open any longer. I told myself I shouldn't make a habit of it. Because it throws my sleep schedule even more out of wack then it already is. And it's a pointless waste of time, this lying about with ones eyes close. I also told myself I should go lap swimming. As had been my intent for a while. When a girl is used to hours of judo and hockey a week summer can be slow.
"So, Kris, if it's not past 7:30 we'll go." I smirked to myself in my brilliance. For it was most definitely at least eight. But my faithful clock defied my conclusion. Dang.
"Ah yes. Lap swim is only two days a week. We shall check our schedule and go if it's today." Happy with my brillaince I entered the bathroom (where I keep my schedule for some random reason) and flipped through. What? No esta possible. But it was possible. It proudly told me I could attend lap swims on Mondays.
So I loaded up my old lady bag. No swim cap. No goggles. Just about forgot my towel, and zipped down.
I've never been big on the lap type of swimming. I love messing about in the water, any random lake pastimes are fine. But the idea of paddling back and forth in stuff that's more chlorine then water never much appealed to me. But, it would be good for me, no? Good for my knees, about which I worry. Good for my joints in general. All of which worry me. It was an old person's sport.
Ten minutes later I slid into my lane. Only two other people showed up. Two big buff hairy men. Their muscles bulging in anticipation as they snapped their goggles into place...
I began two swim. Probably at a rate of more then a lap a minute. By the fifth lap I was ready to quit. Oh good grief. I have got to go longer then these five minutes of my hour. Man, I paid good money for the opportunity. So I struggled on.
Front crawl, back crawl, breast stroke, jelly fish. Up and down the pool. Well on either side of my the two buff young men, and the buff older man (who'd joined us) whizzed by in solid front crawl. I began breathing loud enough I wondered if the guy on the lifeguard chair could here me. No doubt that smirk was in humour at my attempts.
I began to breathe in water as I desperately tried for air. Having been a little kid, I know what all the little kids before us were doing in there. Pace yourself Kris. Just take it slowly. Well, let me tell you. It's a deadly trap. The slower you go the longer you have to go between breaths. The sport of the elderly. Pah.
However. All's well that ends well. I kept up my tiring rythem for the whole hour. And suspect I could've keep going. Although I started breathing every couple strokes on my front crawl. The better news, all the big guys got out before me. They took time to stretch out their tired limbs. Score one for the teenager!
front crawl, back crawl, breast stroke, jelly fish.
At last I emerged. Wet and tired. Red rimmed eyes from prolonged exposure to too much chlorine. But no bruises! No crude talk in the change room. No smashed up knees or aching elbows from arm bars.
But I'm still sticking with judo. The senior citizens (or big buff guys) can keep their lap swims for now.

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