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Dream those dreams, scheme those schemes
So today I got off my ass and got down to 24 Hour and got my membership. (And swimming clothes. And this cute blue lock for my clothes locker. And these pretty purple carabiners for my purse. And a John Hughes movie but it was only $10.) And they charged me a pro-rated $1.25 for the rest of the month, so my membership started today.
And I said to myself Woo! I'm so cool. I'll just start my three-day-a-week plan tonight. Oh. Well, except for that I haven't brought a towel with me to work. Enh. No problem. I'll just put off starting until next week.
And I was well on my way down this road, casually humming to myself, when I caught me by the scruff of the neck and said Oh No I Don't. If I start putting this off again, I'll just keep doing it. I'm going to scurry on home after work, grab a towel, and I'm going to go to the club tonight!
But I said Awwwwww. That's a lot of work, and I'll be tired when I get home and can't I just go to bed?
And I thought a moment. Hell, I thought, that does sound like a lot of effort. Am I up to it? And I almost suckered me into it, but I caught on and put my foot down.
So I went home, nearly fell into excercise lethal conversations with Caredhel and Raven, but escaped their charming clutches, grabbed a towel, battered it until all the fine lint fuzz it had so carefully hoarded came off, and went on my way.
And, as I had been told, the deskcritter was nowhere to be seen, so I strolled on in without even flashing my provisional membership paper wad. I changed into the spiffy new trunks, and went out to the pool which, aside from a wiry Japanese elder for about thirty minutes, I had to myself.
I hopped into the end, three and a half feet marked, and noted that the pool did not seem as heated as they claimed it to be before kicking off down to the other side of the pool..... three and a half feet, marked. I was quietly and politely boggled, finally discovering that the pool has no deep end, but a deep middle. Even there it's only five and a half feet. This will be annoying. But not impossible. In general, doing laps on my back is the only way to avoid scraping my feet on the bottom of the pool. (How the hell do people do this?) Of course, it only took fifteen minutes before I was completely knackered, and so I climbed out to sit for five minutes in the whirlpool. (Thus avoiding the need to figure out how to spell 'jaccuzzi' this late at night.) Then I climbed back into the pool (DEFINITELY didn't feel heated now!) and did another ten or fifteen minutes before I decided that my muscles were gently hinting that I'd done quite enough and in the morning we'd have another talk. So I didn't make the hour I'd planned, but I'm confident that given time I shall.
And I was reminded that I'll have to bring a comb or brush or something if I want to wow the hotties as I leave, because my hair is all kinds of crazy right now.
However, I figure in the four weeks before I go to Vulkon I should be able to resculpt my body into a thing of beauty formed of brushed steel and designed by Boris Vallejo. Look out, geeks!
Oh, and also: I think I may have started the French Revolution at work tonight. Jakey? Plz plz plz bring the Montaigne book with you on Sunday. (:
And I said to myself Woo! I'm so cool. I'll just start my three-day-a-week plan tonight. Oh. Well, except for that I haven't brought a towel with me to work. Enh. No problem. I'll just put off starting until next week.
And I was well on my way down this road, casually humming to myself, when I caught me by the scruff of the neck and said Oh No I Don't. If I start putting this off again, I'll just keep doing it. I'm going to scurry on home after work, grab a towel, and I'm going to go to the club tonight!
But I said Awwwwww. That's a lot of work, and I'll be tired when I get home and can't I just go to bed?
And I thought a moment. Hell, I thought, that does sound like a lot of effort. Am I up to it? And I almost suckered me into it, but I caught on and put my foot down.
So I went home, nearly fell into excercise lethal conversations with Caredhel and Raven, but escaped their charming clutches, grabbed a towel, battered it until all the fine lint fuzz it had so carefully hoarded came off, and went on my way.
And, as I had been told, the deskcritter was nowhere to be seen, so I strolled on in without even flashing my provisional membership paper wad. I changed into the spiffy new trunks, and went out to the pool which, aside from a wiry Japanese elder for about thirty minutes, I had to myself.
I hopped into the end, three and a half feet marked, and noted that the pool did not seem as heated as they claimed it to be before kicking off down to the other side of the pool..... three and a half feet, marked. I was quietly and politely boggled, finally discovering that the pool has no deep end, but a deep middle. Even there it's only five and a half feet. This will be annoying. But not impossible. In general, doing laps on my back is the only way to avoid scraping my feet on the bottom of the pool. (How the hell do people do this?) Of course, it only took fifteen minutes before I was completely knackered, and so I climbed out to sit for five minutes in the whirlpool. (Thus avoiding the need to figure out how to spell 'jaccuzzi' this late at night.) Then I climbed back into the pool (DEFINITELY didn't feel heated now!) and did another ten or fifteen minutes before I decided that my muscles were gently hinting that I'd done quite enough and in the morning we'd have another talk. So I didn't make the hour I'd planned, but I'm confident that given time I shall.
And I was reminded that I'll have to bring a comb or brush or something if I want to wow the hotties as I leave, because my hair is all kinds of crazy right now.
However, I figure in the four weeks before I go to Vulkon I should be able to resculpt my body into a thing of beauty formed of brushed steel and designed by Boris Vallejo. Look out, geeks!
Oh, and also: I think I may have started the French Revolution at work tonight. Jakey? Plz plz plz bring the Montaigne book with you on Sunday. (:
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Wonderful work. Wonderful. Great stuff, and I, like everyone, look forward to the god-like spectacle of skin and flesh that will be you.
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Getting off one's ass and actually doing it is the hard part. Full kudos for making yourself go, despite all the obstacles which threw themselves in your path.
Also, an amusing read. Hee. :)
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To keep your feet from hitting the bottom of the pool:
When you are doing a proper kick to a stroke, you should have your feet just below the water. It sounds like your feet are well below the water and you will not be able to get very far doing that. (imagine a board in the water at an angle where the head is at the top and the feet are at the bottom. You will have a lot of drag and will not get anywhere. Now if you have your feet closer to the surface... the board becomes more horizontal, giving you more cutting power) I am not certain as I have not seen you in action... however, my students when I coached had that same problem. If you would like I can come and watch give you pointers some time.
Also I would not recomend taking the lane lines down... for two reasons.
1) Depending on how tight they are... you may not be able to without the lane wrench... and if you try you are liable to stretch the wire and ruin the lane line.
2) If you do take the lane line off... they may or may not have the wrench to tighten it again when it is put back. That may be left with the pool maintenance man.
*hugs* we need to hang out some time.
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