Day 188: Swim and Nap

Swam for a full hour this morning, the longest so far, and my once-a-week goal. Twice-a-week would be better, but is not currently feasible. Maybe closer to the date of the triathlon. Since last checking in, I also went to my usual 90-minute yoga class, which last night felt easy. I think the instructor went a bit short, and eased off some of the more challenging poses. And I fit in a short date with my husband--out of the house at our favourite restaurant where I devoured a generous helping of lasagne. But I'm not drinking anymore, due to the early rising (I mean the casual social drinking that I used to enjoy--a beer with my husband on our date night, for example). Mango juice just doesn't seem like date night.

Getting up at 5:15 shouldn't be measurably harder than getting up at 5:40, but it is; and it's Friday. Thankfully, I was meeting a friend. We don't actually swim together, because she's a much better swimmer than I am. She says she always figures she's about "medium" at everything she does (not true--she's above-average at everything she does), so she goes in the medium lane. I figure I'm not going anywhere fast, so I choose the leisure lane (which may also speak to my attitude--I don't want to set expectations too high; I'd rather move up slowly than be humblingly called out). This morning, the first half hour was a struggle. It's my third time out for a "real" swim, and I felt, frankly, weary. My breathing came hard. My legs were fatigued. I stopped a lot to adjust my goggles (which seemed to be leaking more water than usual, but I also recognized that it was a coping technique--a chance to stop for a quick breather). The lane length is short--only 20 metres, and I find it difficult to have to restart my rhythm so often. I don't have a smooth turnaround method. I touch the wall, doggie paddle to change directions, then begin the stroke again. (Crawl stroke).

The first half hour was filled with doubt. If I'm aching this much after a mere 200 metres, what am I thinking, attempting a sprint-length race? I won't be able to stop and rest every 20 metres in a lake. I won't be able to adjust my goggles, or stop to spit out a mouthful of (disgusting) water. (I get gaggy thinking about taking in any pool water).

But the second half hour, things got better. My stroke felt smoother. I said to myself, take it easy. You're not here to win a race, you're just here to get better. You're starting almost from scratch. Go easy on yourself. (Yes, I talk to myself in the second person, sometimes, which, frankly, drives myself crazy; stop it, self!). Um. Where was I? Oh, yes, pep-talking myself in the pool.

Here was the difference between the first half hour and the second half hour. The first half hour, I kept thinking these words: watery grave. I kept focusing on the out-of-my-element aspects of the challenge. I hope that lifeguard is keeping her eye on me, I was thinking. Just in case everything seizes up here and I forget how to keep myself afloat. And the second half hour, I kept thinking: easy. The less forcefully I move my body through the water, the easier it is. I'm slow. Let it be known. I'm slow. But it feels easy. The watery world under there is kind of wonderful. When I turn to breathe, I catch a fleeting glimpse of droplets crossing the air. And under water, I can hear the murmurs of a quieter world. It's peaceful. And I move through it fearlessly.

:::

And can I just confess that I'm feeling grateful that I won't be able to get up early to run or go to yoga tomorrow? Though I may try to find a babysitter so I can run on Sunday. But I think I need a day off. Phew. I'm asking my body to turn itself into an athlete's body, and my body is saying, okay, uh, so here's the thing ... this has never before been an athlete's body! Also, I took a long nap this morning instead of working. This triathlon project is turning into a weird form of work. Unpaid and fairly costly work, it must be said.