I had a really rough day at work yesterday and though the thought of actually “doing” anything afterwards filled me with a nameless dread, I did have my swim gear with me and the pool was open.
So, with a staggering reluctance, that voice in the back of my head – the really mean and persistent one – forced me to the pool for a swim after work.
When I got there, the locker room was full of literally shrieking kids – some kind of summer camp, I guess – and the lanes were set to the long – ways.
Because of course they are.
Grumbling like I was being forced to skip dessert, I jumped in the water. And uttered this phrase:
BLAGING BLURPLE BLARCHED BLARRRRRG!!!!?!?!?
I was underwater at the time, trying to keep my heart beating with the sheer force of profanity after the shock of the icy cold water.
You do not want the translation. It would have killed fish, had there been any in pool.
I surfaced, kicked off, and began my first lap.
The bargain I struck with the “persistent voice” was that I would do a half mile. Every stroke through the water hurt my arm. And I never did get used to the cold.
But, when I reached my goal, I felt strong enough to keep going for a few more laps. When I got out of the pool, I felt strong enough to do more – if I’d wanted.
And, of course, I was rocking that speedo still.
I didn’t feel “good” after that swim. More like “somewhat less miserable” – but it’s something and knowing I can hit the water and excel even after not swimming for a while was pretty cool too.
I’m going to try and get back in the habit again. It’s clearly good for me – even if I’m not exactly enjoying it at the moment.