Single Digits

According to the TV news, everyone in Denver was supposed to be depressed, angry, and scheduling appointments with local Kevorkians. But everyone I spoke to yesterday seemed to be doing quite well, thank you. The gym was crowded, we had a good turnout at swim practice, and a couple of people even wanted to swim 100 x 100s, just for fun. The sun was shining, and the world seemed to be doing just fine.

Well, mostly. I did encounter one small personal disappointment; my car overheated on the way to the gym. The temperatures were the lowest they've been so far this winter, so it seems odd to think that anything would be too hot. Since the first snowfall a few weeks ago, my joints have been creaky, my fingers are sluggish on the keyboard, and my thought processes have been positively glacial -- which I attribute to ice crystals forming within my blood vessels. But gasoline powered automobiles apparently have no such correlation between environmental chill and internal heat management. The temperature gage needle was almost in the red before I noticed the problem.

Of course, my Boy Scout training ensures that I have a jug of antifreeze in the car at all times, so it was simple to add enough coolant to get me through the rest of my weekend driving. But after swim practice this morning, the car goes back to the shop. I'm hoping it's just a hose that wasn't fully tightened after all the expensive chazwazzery that took place in the engine compartment last week. We'll see.

As for my training, well, it's been a tad unpredictable lately. Again, I'd love to blame the weather, but the fact is that I'm just being a wimp. But my target marathon date draws ever nearer, so at some point I'm just going to have to put on 18 layers of longjohns and get my buns out there in the pre-dawn chill. If the sidewalks look passable by tomorrow evening, I'll plan to jog before swim practice on Wednesday. I may be dressed up like a Botany Bay crewman on Ceti Alpha 5, but I intend to force myself to do it.

It will be interesting to see if the "Yoga for Swimming" class helps loosen me up. As longtime readers know, my previous experiments with yoga had less to do with Nirvana than with Chaos Theory. There was nothing serene or dignified about my Gort-like stiffness, my constant muffled whimpering, or my tendency to topple over in every breeze generated by a passing gnat. But this time, I am determined to achieve such sublime suppleness that people will think I'm the second coming of Ghandi or something.

Will it help me swim faster? I guess I'll find out. In the meantime, I'll just keep adding layers of clothing and trying to face the winter cold with a positive attitude. Have a great day!