Flashes of Panic

After I swam yesterday, I took a chance and stepped on the scale—checking my course, I suppose. The news was not entirely bad, so I celebrated with jelly beans. Which may be counter-productive, but never mind.

Ever since I went to the pool last Thursday and found it too mobbed to get a lane, I’ve been in an exercise funk. I’m getting sick of swimming in the pond; I like being able to see my environment, and in Puffer’s I’m pretty lucky to see my hand pull under me. I also have to poke my head up every five strokes or so to make sure I’m not about to plow into someone’s inflatable raft, which inhibits flow. Yet the hours at the pool are tight enough to keep me from swimming there on days when I go for PT, which, as it happens, is three times a week.

So I missed a whole series of days, though I did walk a lot on Saturday. And I just can’t get wound up to get back in the pond. I bring my gear but at the end of the day I don’t want to thrash around the pond; I want to sit on the couch.

The PT Assistant this morning, aside from expressing accomplishment when she made my foot “crunch,” suggested I need to mix things up a bit. I think that’s what I was doing last winter, getting ready for the NEM-SCY meet; I also had a sense of purpose. But what else can I do now? Machines are on nearly the same limited schedule as the pool, because they’re at the College too. Besides, as I’ve noted elsewhere, I loathe exercise that doesn’t take me anywhere; I tolerate treadmills and can only run on the track when I have a specific workout to concentrate on.

The PTA suggested rowing, but it looks like I’ve missed the season on that one. (I laughed politely to myself when she said she wanted to try rowing; she does not have the long levers that pay off in that sport, even less so than myself.) I’d take out a kayak, but where would I keep it? I’d blow my savings account renting from EMS. (Assuming I’m correct that they’re renting some of the ‘yaks they’ve got down there.)

If the thunder I’m hearing keeps up, I’ve got a ready-made excuse to skip today’s swim.

Update: The sun came out. I didn’t quite have the pond to myself, but pretty close.

Now playing: Black Boys On Mopeds from Bob On The Ceiling by The Nields