Archives for posts with tag: swim

Try tri again.  At least that’s what I’m telling myself.  About a year ago (shit, have I really been talking about yarn and pretending to be funny on the internets for a whole year?  I guess I missed that.  Well, whatever, happy belated birthday, blog.  Make a wish for more readers and a million dollars.) I was talking about training for my first triathlon ever.  And I might have mentioned that I sucked at swimming.  Well, what I failed to mention (mostly because instead of the five readers I have now, I had one and he pretty much knew everything that was going on, so I didn’t have to blog about it) was that I never did the tri.  Yup, I was the idiot that got bursitis (tendonitis of the shoulder) 2 weeks before I was supposed to swim, bike, run and somehow not die while accomplishing those things.  Also, the trip to hell India a month before the big event didn’t help with the training either.  And I know that’s not a good excuse, but there you have it.  So I applied for a medical rollover, went to physical therapy and now that I have gotten over my sad mopey self, I am trying again.  There’s a lesson involving horses and saddles.

So I went to the pool last night with my friend, M.  She’s going to deny it, but she’s pretty much a bad ass dolphin-human hybrid with amazing hair.  (I know that sounds an awful lot like a mermaid, but I assure you that it is not.  A mermaid is a fish-human hybrid…completely different)  I got into the pool and went for it.  I swam to one end without dying.  So far, so good.  I swam back to the other end.  Still no dying.  I’m slow as shit and I’m pretty sure that I look like a timid, gimpy fish, but I didn’t die and that’s what I’m focusing on.  I was focusing so much on not dying that I didn’t keep track of my laps.  I’m estimating that I completed 6 laps based on how many times I stood at the shallow end of the pool contemplating injecting my arms with steroids while simultaneously making out with Michael Phelps in the hopes that it would help bring me closer to my Olympic dreams.  I came to the conclusion that I don’t know where I would find steroids, let alone how I would get Michael to make out with me.  Finally, I felt as though if I swam one more lap, I would definitely vomit in the pool, which would alert the other dolphin-human hybrids that there is a noob in their midst that is intent on destroying the magic of their sparkly clean pool water.  This of course would lead to an all out assault of butterfly strokes to my face.  I think I got out of the pool just in time before permanent damage set it.  Even still, today most of my body has lost its will to live and is refusing to do what I tell it to do.  It’s going to be slow, but it’s progress, right?

While I’m getting back on the triathlon horse, I’m also getting back on another horse (which is really funny if you think about it….kind of like double piggy backs, but with horses.  Wait, stop thinking about it, because I just did and it’s kind of gross and sad.  Not funny.) with sock knitting.  Remember these?  Last weekend, I decided that it was time to try knitting them again.  I’m doing things a little differently this time, though.  First, I’m using metal needles.  Fuck bamboo.  Those things can’t withstand the extreme force of my ass.  Secondly, I’m knitting two at a time…on one circular needle…because I’m crazy.  Also, because when I finish my sock, I will have finished my socks.  It’s going to be slow, but it’s progress.  I know I already said that up there, but I’m saying it again.  To reiterate the parallels of knitting and swimming and horses.  You know, let’s just forget the horses.

Can it be?  Do my eyes deceive me?  Is that really what I think it is?  Oh thank the goddesses of knits and purls, it’s over!!!! The saga of the owl sweater has finally come to an end.  I came, I saw, I mostly conquered, I cried, I for real conquered.

And if you’re wondering if I coordinated owl earrings to match… yes, yes I did.

I’d also like to point out that currently in Seattle, it is a balmy 46 and overcast.  Terrific weather, that is, if you want to wear a sweater.  And I do!  I am!  I am sportin’ it like Lady GaGa sports her hairpieces.

Yarn Over »

Fun Freshy fact: I have an advanced open water license for scuba diving, but shamefully, I can’t swim. GASP! I have this vague memory, in sepia overtones, of my dad trying to teach me. I think I was crying. Then flash forward to another memory, this one laced with a little more color, and it’s my swim instructor laughing at me because I was attempting to do the crawl-stroke and breathe like I how I’ve seen them do in the Olympics. Maybe I was exaggerating the breathing…but I don’t recall it being funny. I was very serious about my crawl stroke. Well, in any case, I’ve taken it up again. I hate that I’m only comfortable when my head is above the water when I’m standing (and trust me, it’s not that deep). But I’m so afraid. What am I supposed to do? Tread? Please.

Anyways, I will have all of you know that I’m quite enjoying my adult swim lessons very much. Aside from the fact that I only just learned about shoulder rolls in the fifth week of class from the substitute. Apparently I was doing it wrong the whole time and my instructor failed to mention that to me and the others in the class. But who cares. Point is, look at me! I can swim now…sorta…kinda like a sad gimpy fish with one eye. But hey, at least I’m maintaining some composure when I inhale chlorinated water up my nose. Ok, I don’t. But I always think I will. Oh, hell…who am I kidding? I can’t even make it across the width of the pool and back without panting like a mad, rabies-infested dog. I’m just now discovering that the 1/2 mile swim in the triathlon might very well be the death of me. Maybe I can somehow sneak fins….and floaties….or design some sort of jet propulsion system that will hide easily in my bathing suit. Until then, I guess I better work on my shoulder roll.

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