A Dip in the Pool

Despite all my swimming years, I have always been a big wimp when it comes to getting in the pool. Especially when the water is cold. It typically begins with a slip dip of my tow in the water, followed by a reluctant shudder. The slow process continues with splashes myself a little bit with water and then lowering myself inch-by-inch until I take a deep breath, drop into the water and push off into my workout.

I’m typically surrounded by eager-to-jump-iners who leap into the water with abandon and get that pain done quickly, like ripping off a bandage. Unfortunately, I’ve never been swayed by peer pressure and stick to my stupid way of getting in.

When Melissa jumped into the pool today, I was still touching my little twinkle toes in the lane next to her. So, by the time the lifeguard blew the whistle and told us to exit the pool because of lightning, I was only about waist-deep in the water. (The rec. center pool is surrounded by large windows, which makes the pool area aesthetically pleasing, but lightning-inconvenient.)

That’s right: my swimming workout involved a few arm dips and a warm shower. Sad, isn’t it? We were determined to stick around, but apparently you have to stay out of the pool at least 30 minutes after the last lightning strike. Boo on that.

We thought about just running or hitting the weight circuit, but we had both come to the rec. center in our bathing suits and no workout clothes. Instead we spent out time plotting in the car about what incredible number of yards we would tell people we swam.

My hopes are pinned on some decent early-evening weather so I can have a good run. Right now I have that guilty, flabby feeling in my muscles that, if it doesn’t get shaken quickly, turns into eternal laziness and fatigue. But swimming tomorrow will provide a break between my running today and plan for a longer hike on Saturday.