cavatica

Have returned from swimming. Victory is mine! And I say that not because I raced against someone, oh, no. No, it's because I feel like, even though this is only the second time I've sallied forth on this self-imposed regiment of aqua-robics, I'm already accomplishing something. I don't swim very many laps consecutively and the ones I swim I don't swim well. Freestyle and breaststroke, mostly. When I was a pre-pubescent on the swim team, my stroke was butterfly. Now I realize what phenomenal shape I must have been in as a little kid. I took third place in fly once. Now I swim half a lap of it and am exhausted. But I'm building up my tolerance. Sloooowly, slowly. Swim 25 meters of breaststroke. Stop one minute. Swim one of freestyle. Stop one minute. Another lap of freestyle. Another of breaststroke. Half a lap of fly. Breathe. Slooowwwly. 25 meters. Then 50. Then 25. Half a lap, don't breathe. Then breathe every four strokes. Then every three, and then I'm at the other side. Pull, pull, kick, kick, pull, breeeeathe, pull. For half an hour. I find that if I keep at it, if I break past a point where I don't think I want to do it anymore, I can keep on doing it and not tire, so long as I stop to rest a minute or two.

My arms are trembling ever-so-slightly, but it feels good. Four times a week I'll do this, after dinner. Maybe then I can stop this cruelly softening middle.

Except now I want to eat something.