SWIMMER'S ARM ... AND KNEE ... AND EAR ... AND ....

Today, I landed at the pool at 6:30 ... yes, that would be in the A.M., people. There's a method to my madness, though. I figure if I can start conditioning myself to the process of getting up a bit earlier (not that I'd unconditioned myself, mind you, what with class), then in two weeks, when I'm back up at 5 or 5:30 a.m., my life will feel a slight bit normal. I put emphasis on the words SLIGHT BIT NORMAL because, really, what is normal about being up before the sun?

A bazillion years ago, I was a pretty fit, strong swimmer. In fact, a bazillion years ago, I was on a swim team and came in first in my heats all the time in the 100 meter freestyle. Okay, yes, my friend Denise's two girls are now swimming on that same team (I just keep reminding myself that I'm not that old), and the director of the team is retiring from her position at the high school because, (and this is sick to say because it requires me to come to terms with my age), she's reached retirement age for teachers!

ANYWAY! A bazillion years ago, I could go 100 meters and be out of breath because I'd just done the 100 at break-neck speeds. Now, I'm out of breath because I've just done the 100 meters at ... well, at any speed at all is miraculous! I won't even count the number of folks in lanes beside me that could do 200 meters at the speed of my one. It's amazing how out of shape we get when we choose to sit.

Today, however, I felt a bit stronger. I actually had a tiny, tiny amount of speed on my 100 meters, and, instead of being winded after 100 meters, I was winded this morning at about 200 meters. That, my friends, is progress in my book!

Now, if I could only make my left arm go all the way back on my back stroke, like the beautiful form of my right arm ... right now it looks like a broken wing. I tried to concentrate on making it match the right arm's strokes, but it refused. It has a mind of its own, and I don't like it.

Perhaps more weightlifting in the gym will work that mess out ... and more weightlifting will have to be the thing to do this week, as I had a pretty depressing weekend in pain with my knee. [heavy sigh] Michael seems to think that I'm indeed presenting all the classic signs of some sort of torn meniscus ... what's more, so does my orthopedic surgeon.

CRAP!

My body is revolting against me. I think I can almost hear the faint strains of DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING (wasn't that the song of revolution in the musical LES MIS?). I've got to take control back before my hips decide to defect as well.



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