Unexpected Editing

As you probably have noticed, most of the time I lean toward the Libertarian end of the philosophical spectrum. I appreciate freedom, and believe that in most cases regulation is counterproductive. But I am not an anarchist by any means, and today's swim practice provided a good example of why not.

If there weren't laws against it, I suspect I would've been lynched by an angry mob of disgruntled swimmers.

Let me provide some background: A little over a week ago, Mike Wilmot commented that he thought swimming a timed 1000 was a good idea. I agreed, so I asked the team to do one at practice. I enjoyed it so much that I thought we should continue with that theme for a while. So for the last several practices, we've timed a "broken" 1000 -- the first one broken into 2 x 500, then we did one split into 4 x 250, then 5 x 200. Each time, I urged the group to try to complete the overall swim time at a slightly faster pace than the previous one. With the extra rest between segments, most were able to do it.

So on "Fun Friday", I thought it would be good to finish out the week with another 1000, broken at the 100s. But after the complaints and moaning I got when I announced the 1000 (broken into 5 x 200s) on Wednesday, I wanted to approach it tactfully. Tim noted that if I'd have just said "Five 200s" instead of calling it a broken 1000, nobody would complain...so I tried that idea. "OK, let's do ten 100s!" I said, hoping for enthusiastic support (or at least non-belligerent acceptance).

I didn't get it. There was a grand public outcry of disgust, anger, and infantile whining as the team tried to convince me to replace my chosen set with something more to their liking; perhaps a set of easy 25s sidestroke with 10 minutes of celebrity-gossip-based chat in between each one.

But I stuck to my plan, and announced that we'd start when the pace clock hand reached the 30-second mark. The protests and epithets continued right up until the set began -- I couldn't make out all the exact words they were spitting out, but I did hear my name mentioned along with phrases like "worse than Hitler", "string him up", and even something about a bonfire-based exorcism.

Just once, I'd like to hear my name associated with the words "Coach of the Year" or even "a swell fellow". That would be SO much more pleasant than the "vile cretin" and "mad dog psychopath" appellations I usually receive. Oh well.

The good news is that everybody did the set, and they worked hard. It was a successful practice overall, and I think that most people left the pool feeling that they'd accomplished something.

And since it was an "off" Friday for me, I also had the rest of the day to put to good use. I wanted to get in another type of exercise at some point, and after I ate my "2nd breakfast", I decided that I might as well go ahead and get my long run in before I sat down at the computer to do my bookkeeping. The weather was decent, so why not?

I won't bore you with the details of the run; it contained nothing more than the usual drama associated with my attempts to remain upright. I somehow managed to get through a 13-mile jog without causing any damage to myself or the environment, and arrived back home in that glorious state of tired-and-hungry athletic euphoria that follows a satisfyingly productive workout.

By the time I finished my shower and lunch, though, I was starting to consider the idea of engaging in what we writers call a "regenerative imagination enhancement quest" -- what most people would call a "nap". But just as I was about to head toward the "ideatorium" (ie, "bed"), the phone rang. My presence was urgently requested at the office.

In an ideal world, it would be illegal for an employer to ever deprive a hard-working citizen of the opportunity to take an afternoon snooze...but in the world in which my paychecks are written, it's not uncommon at all. Sigh. I grabbed my car keys and headed for the office.

I spent the next several hours editing a trio of proposal volume introductions, and applied my usual brilliance to the art of inserting commas, wrangling verbs and objects into agreement, and forcing reluctant tenses into consistency. I actually rather enjoyed it, but ended up sitting at my desk long enough for my legs to stiffen up. And of course, none of my home-based chores got done at all. I guess I'll have to allocate some of my other weekend time to getting that stuff done.

I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, if you see me with my eyes closed, you can rest assured that I'm productively engaged in some of the quiet (yet critically important) parts of the writing procedure. Please do not disturb this process, OK? Thanks a bunch, my friends, and have a great day!