The good, the bad, the swimming.

So I went to the Y this morning because:

a) needed to swim
b) figured its the least populated time to swim. 

A few notes. 

There is nothing quite like an alarm clock going off at 4:45am to send you into a "WHAT HAVE I SIGNED UP FOR?!?!" rage.  For reals yall.  Fo. reals.

Swimming is not cool.  I mean it is something when you can knock off running as my least favorite sport.  Perhaps they tie.  #1 on land and #1 in water. Straight tedious.  I got there at 5:25 and at 5:30 I was in the pool.  (pro-tip - assemble three swim cap situation at home and put wrap on head to goto gym) So at 5:30 I start with this non-sense. 

at 5:45 I was certain I was swimming so poorly that the Earth was literally moving backward.

at 5:47 I was like 'Ok Christopher Reeves in Superman 1 (1978, yall) is literally turning the Earth backwards to save Lana Lane's dumb a$s, forcing me to repeat this.

Y'all know I just watched this Saturday

at 5:50 I decided to try my swim snorkel. 

at 5:50 and 25 seconds I decided eff this swim snorkel, can't figure it out.

Dear Finis, Your one-line instructions are not sufficient.

at 5:55 I wondered, can I backstroke this entire tri? I mean this freestyle stuff is totally optional.  Let's do a few backstroke laps.

So much more enjoyable when you can breathe at all times.

at 6:00, ok let's freestyle 50m and then get the eff out.  Screw this hour nonsense.

Later at 7:14am I still smelled like chlorine and was dff to work.  And much like 4:45am I'm thinking "WHAT HAVE I SIGNED UP FOR?!?!"

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Leaving first tri swim practice....

There was only one thing I could think of...

Of course my version was more like

 

I guess there's no where to go but up huh? Right after I figure out this breathing thing...

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marrow

"marrow" by Ani DiFranco

the answer came
like a shot in the back
while you were running from your lesson
which might explain
why years later all you could remember
was the terror of the question
plus, you weren't listening
you were stockpiling canned goods
making a bomb shelter of our basement
and i can't believe you let the moral go by
while you were soaking in the product placement

where was your conscience?
where was your consciousness?
and where did you put all those letters
that you wrote to yourself
but could not address?

i'm a good kisser
and you're a fast learner
and that kinda thing could float us
for a pretty long time
then one day you'd realize
you've memorized my phone number
and you'll call it and find
it's a disconnected line
cuz i got tossed out the window of love's el camino
and i shattered into a shower of sparks on the curb
you were smoking me
weren't you?
between your yellow fingers
you just inhaled and exhaled without saying a word

where was your conscience?
where was your consciousness?
and where did you put all those letters
that you wrote to yourself
but could not address?

there's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons
a whole childhood of potions
that are all bottled up
and so one by one i am dusting off labels
i am uncorking bottles and filling up cups
so go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
and i'll have a taste of mine
but first let's toast to the lists
that we hold in our fists
of the things that we promise to do
differently next time

cuz the answer came like a shot in the back
while you were running from your lesson
which might explain
why years later all you could remember
was the terror of the question
plus i'm not listening to you anymore
my head is too sore and my heart's perforated
and i'm mired in the marrow of my (well... ain't that) funny bone
learning how to be alone and devastated
where was my conscience?
where was my consciousness?
and what do i do with all these letters
that i wrote to myself
but cannot address?

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