Swim Thoughts...

Having the nose piece to my goggles literally fall apart just as I touch the wall at the end of my last lap--must be some significance here.

Allergies in New Mexico--learning to sneeze under water.

Stretching my neck every chance I get--especially after hearing the story of the triathlete who damaged a disc in his neck after doing a 6000 yard session, resulting in weakness in one of his arms. Of course, I don't swim 6000 in a session...

Drills. Still feel as if I'm drowning.

Getting excited when I pass someone in the pool, then realizing that it's pretty pathetic to take satisfaction in passing someone slower than me. It's not that I'm any faster, it's just that some poor soul is caught in a time warp bubble and the slow swimming is really just a functional illusion caused by the expansion of the universe resulting in a relative decrease in velocity.... As a frame of reference, just know that everyone swims faster than me.

And, finally,
After wearing contacts for more years than I care to admit (I saved up and bought my first pair when I was 15), and wearing contacts in the pool under goggles for maybe half those years, and using them during triathlons in the early 90's and then again starting in 2001... I finally lost a lens during a race. Those goggles which broke (see above) did so just before a race, so I grabbed a pair of goggles I was unfamiliar with, squinched them on to my head and eyes so tight that there was TITANIC suction (really uncomfortable, but I'm paranoid of drowning, and felt safer keeping the water out...), so that when I pulled off the goggles, I guess a lens went with them. I didn't notice until half way into the bike when I realized I couldn't get my right eye to focus. C'est la vie. It was a lens that had been giving me trouble for a long time. Even though it was a gas permeable, permanent (not disposable), pricey little thing, I was almost glad to see it go. I went home, dug out my old contacts (dare I say, from 2006), cleaned, scrubbed and rinsed, and voila, I'm almost good as new. It's just that now, I might look at you sideways--you know, one eye popping out, angled and fractured, like Picasso in his Cubist phase....

What, again?

Killer swim.

Still would be considered slower than a floating iceberg by some of my triathlete compatriots.

But it felt good to me.

I didn't feel draggy and didn't waste energy side to side while wrastling an alligator.

I didn't have that dead in the water moment with each stroke.

I felt aggressive and strong.

I was able to dig in, raise my torso, follow through with acceleration.

All week I had felt tired.
Last weekend's unexpected killer bike and run left me with oh so sore leg muscles. I didn't realize how hard I had worked and didn't eat enough to recover and felt tired all week.

Took rest days on days I normally don't take a rest.

My legs felt heavy.

My brain felt heavy.

My sore muscles hung in for most of the week.

Wednesday, I stopped by the store and bought meat. This is what I do when I'm feeling run down. The meat is a psychological magic pill to help me get back on my feet.

I took way too many rest days, so of course, along with feeling heavy, slow, sore, and unmotivated, I started to feel that universal (at least in my household) I'm-used-to-being-active feeling of "I'm getting fat" and "I'm not doing enough", but I still stuck to my rest, because it does no good to train when I'm not feeling well---it just exacerbates and extends my malaise.

On Friday, I toodled around at work. Wasn't motivated. Didn't have any plans. Stayed late and was the last to leave.

On the way out the door, I figured, even though I didn't feel like it, I should try going up to the pool and do a few short, easy laps. I bargained with myself: 10 lengths would be OK, maybe 20, well that would be 500, so look at doing 400. Pause. Or maybe 800. 800 is a metric half mile, so why not round it up to 1000 like you used to do. No, the way I feel that might be too much, and I don't want to do a swim just to tick off the distance when I'm not feeling good, so maybe 800.
Or 400, to make sure I don't over extend myself and feel draggy.

Etc.

In the back of my mind, I gave myself permission to do nothing. To lazily, languorously move slowly and just enjoy the water. Because what was really getting me up to the pool, when I didn't feel like swimming at all, was the thought of how good and cool and refreshing the water would feel for those first few laps.

So that's how I got myself to the pool.

But, then, what a swim.

Swim Session

I swam for an hour and fifteen minutes today and my nose won't leave me alone.

I am stuffed up, sneezy, and runny.

The skin under my nose is sore.

I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to sleep tonight.

The water was cool and mildly murky.

Some giant guy got into my lane and kept hitting me.

The little girl in the next lane swam by me like a mermaid.

The guy next to her just about emptied the pool with his 'fly.

I pooped out in the middle, but picked it up when the water got choppy and to try to get out of the way of the flailing limbs in my lane.

I think the little girl may even have kicked me.

When I exited the pool, I ended up in a conversation with the little girl's mom who told me about her 30 pound weight gain after a car accident two years ago, and a sad-eyed pregnant woman who said that all the women in her family had a hard time losing the weight after the baby was born...

Once I extricated myself, I ran out the door, went home, and stretched.

It was a good swim.

But my nose still won't leave me alone.