What with the CFS and all, I basically haven’t exercised in 6 years. When I walk the mile to work I call that “exercise.” And my body complains as if I really did exercise. It’s pathetic.<\/p>\n
Recently, it became clear to me that being utterly sedentary (actually, sitting is even more ambitious than what I normally do…) might also kill me. But it’s hard to work in real exercise when a) it might knock me flat for weeks if I overdo it even a little bit, b) it’s not fun, and c) it cuts into my all-too-real need for many hours of rest per week.<\/p>\n
So I was casting about for some way to move a bit and remembered that once upon a time I used to really love swimming. Now, I haven’t actually swum in… I don’t know how long. Possibly since high school. And I’ve never done lap swimming except when I was 9 or 10 and on a kiddy swim team. And I haven’t put on a bathing suit in 10 years (and the one I own is both far too small for me now and also really old). But somehow this seemed like the thing to try. Practicalities schmacticalities.<\/p>\n
So today I packed my brand new swim cap, goggles, and bathing suit (thank you, online shopping) and a towel, and asked directions to the swimming pool in the campus gym, and wended my way through the crazy maze of a hallway (seriously, this hallway apparently crosses the entire gym, turning right angles here and there, but only has one destination: a tiny locker room), and slithered into the bathing suit.<\/p>\n
At this point it occurred to me that I don’t know quite how to put on the swim cap. I mean, I can pull it on, but then all my hair is out of it. And there doesn’t seem to be a way to put the hair into it first and then pull it on. And when I do pull it on it protests and creeps up toward the top of my head and shpoings off. But I finally wrestle it on and shove my hair up under it, wait tentatively to see if it’ll make a run for it, and finally decide it’ll stay.<\/p>\n
This is when I realize that I didn’t bring a comb, and my hair is NOT going to look well-groomed when I excavate it from this thing.<\/p>\n
But the damage is already done so I head for the shower and then for the pool and I’m so relieved that there’s an empty lane near near enough to the life guard that she can pull me out if I’ve forgotten how to swim. And I really have forgotten how to enter a pool because I get water up my nose immediately, but I don’t let on because who needs that kind of attention.<\/p>\n
Also, we won’t mention how serious the other lap swimmers are. They do various strokes and use various boards and make wakes that buffet me around. Meanwhile, I quickly realize that I’m not in shape enough to do the face-in-the-water version of swimming, because I’m breathing too hard too much of the time. So I slowly breast stroke my way from one end of the pool to the other and then turn around and head back, and figure the other swimmers are probably working too hard to keep track of me anyway. With any luck they don’t have their contacts in and can barely see me.<\/p>\n
And after 1 lap my arms are complaining. 1 very slow lap. And breast stroke is pretty easy on the arms, if I remember right. So then I spend the rest of the time wondering how I’ll know when to stop pushing it so that I don’t land flat on my back for a week. But my goal is to swim for 15-20 minutes. Surely that’s not too much to ask!<\/p>\n
And I made it 20 minutes! With only one rest! I’m simultaneously elated to have managed it and horrified that 20 minutes was that hard.<\/p>\n
And it turns out that the pool is closed for the next two weeks.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
What with the CFS and all, I basically haven’t exercised in 6 years. When I walk the mile to work I call that “exercise.” And my body complains as if I really did exercise. It’s pathetic. Recently, it became clear to me that being utterly sedentary (actually, sitting is even more ambitious than what I … Continue reading I did not drown<\/span>