tired is stupid

Relieved..

...firstly to have done of course but also, I've avoided resorting to increasingly desperate tactics like:

1. Shaving or waxing body hair. One is excruciating, the other is very itchy.
2. Resorting to the type of skimpy Speedos I used to wear as a youngster.
3. Going modern and trying one of those all over body suit things.
4. Shaving what's left of my head hair completely off.
5. Wearing a swim cap (oversized condom), I hate them.
6. Steroids (just kidding).

59.9 seconds

The last time I was as fit as this I thought it was cool to wear Terminator shades (that's me on the left).

FInally done it. How does it feel? Not sure, still sinking in. I'll report later.

lazy

I was supposed to go early morning training this morning, but bed was too comfy and I rolled over and switched off the alarm. Evening training instead. I'm doing a time trial tomorrow, slightly nervous, since time is beginning to run out.

Yesterday I managed to go to the supermarket three times. First time I forgot catfood and wine. Second time I forgot catfood. Too tired to think, too tired to care.

Overall, it's nice to defy age. I'm feeling good about how much training I can handle and how fast I'm going. The big difference is recovery time. My muscles ache for longer and I'm having to do far more stretching to stop my shoulders stiffening up. I used to get away with little stretching when I was a kid, without it now I don't think I'd be able to move.

Traffic jams

There are no decent swimming clubs for over the hill codgers like me. The best I can do for a place for reasonably fast swimmers is the 'fast' lane in my gymn's pool.

Most of the time it's okay, but now and again it gets a bit busy. That's when the fun begins. Here are some of the obstacles I come up against (which are doubly hard to deal with thanks to my,  fatigue induced, slightly shorter fuse than normal):

1. The learner swimmer who fails to read the big 'fast lane' sign and only gets the message after a dozen people swim around them.
2. The fast-ish swimmer without glasses who can't read 'swim' clockwise. I've still got the bruise on my head from  that incident.
3. The kick in the chest from the breastroker in the next lane.
4. The wanabee, usually overweight male, who thinks that size and strength equals speed.
5. The chatty ones. Swimming pools are usually like public transport down south, eye contact and a slight nod is the limit of communication, but there are one or two lovely people who are great swimmers but love a chat. You don't dare stop for too long in case you get stuck in a long conversation, eating into you're traaining time. Sometimes it's hard to avoid this one when the chatty one looks good in her high cut swimming costume, thankfully devotion to Mrs Hovells helps/
6. The tumbleturner. One of the hardest moves in water based sports, there are those who cannnot negotiate this manoevre, but doggedly insist on having a go anyway, causing chaos for the people behind them.

When I were a lad

When I was fourteen, my average Monday morning went something like this:

4.455am - woken up my Dad with milky cofee

5am - set off for swimming pool

5.25am - on the poolside, have a quick chat with Tub, my first serious (ish) girlfriend (she never told me why her nickname was Tub, didn't make sense since she was stick thin). Tub broke my heart when she dumped me to go out with Andrew Matheson, my sworn enemy ever since.

5.30am - In very small speedo's, dive into pool, water absolutely freezing since they didn't turn the heating on until 8am. Spend the rest of the session making sure no one can see my shriveled 'bits'. Wake up very quickly, train for two hours until I'm ready to throw up.

7.30am - finish swimming, cavort with Tub in the communal shower area, realise Dad's going to kill me for being late again.

7.50am - Dad kills me for being late again

8.30am - home for porridge, toast and sausage sandwich (four sausages, half a bottle of ketchup). Get ready for school and Dad drops me off on his way to work

11am - just about stay awake througb double maths

12pm - eat a mountain of sandwiches for lunch, play football. Have to explain to friends why I can't do anyhting after school - swimming again

5pm - eat a mountain of food for tea

6.30pm -  back in the pool for another two hours

9pm - Mum won't talk to me after taking too long to get changed, she knows I've been cavorting with Tub again.

10pm - in bed with 4 slices of peanut butter and toast, Mum shouts for me to turn my light off, read under the covers for far too long. Sleep the sleep of the dead.

Temper temper

Lost my temper with the Cat who insists on jumping all over the kitchen work surfaces. I would never shout at my little cat if I wasn't overtired. Being the cheeky monkey she is, Kato just stared at me and slunk off to bed. Wouldn't it be nice to come back as a cat?

Nearly

Left my goggles in the changing rooms this morning, only remembered when I got in the car. That's a fiver saved, just.

No need to diet

On average, I burn about 1,602 calories during every training session. That's 6702.68 joules.

That's about 8 Bagels, 4 frappucinos, 16 glasses of beaujolais, 10 glasses of madeira, 1 double whopper (and a couple of bites of someone elses) and 12 cans of normal Coke.

So if I train every day, and don't have any of someone else's, I would lose weight.

Eco swimming

In the last two weeks I have covered about 40KM in the pool. That's the distance from home to work. I'm not going to ditch the car just yet though.

Doing things well

Getting back in the pool wasn't easy at first. My muscles took a long time to remember what they could do and chlorine is not an attractive smell. But as I've gone along the feel for the water has come back, I've got stronger, and I've even managed a couple of natural highs - that point when you go through the pain barrier and feel like you can go on and on.

One thing that has given me so much pleasure - the joy of being able to something really well. I'm a naturally clumsy person and I can't dance to save my life, but when I get in the pool, suddenly I become Fred Astaire. There's a real grace to athletes, a beauty in the way they move, the way their body becomes a machine in perfect harmony. It's lovely to feel something like that again, to be in touch with your body, to be able to feel your own strength and know that not too many people can do this.

It almost makes it worth the pain.