The other day, in what can only be described as a brain explosion, I headed into work early, purchased a pair of shiny new goggles and some fandangled cut off flippers (aka training fins) and decided to swim. Oh what a decision.
I remembered how much I actually hate swimming. I hate it for a number of reasons.
1. It’s in water. We were given feet, and not a fin, for a perfectly good reason.
2. There is always children about. Where there’s water, there’s children. And I don’t like children much.
3. It’s hard. Freaking hard.
So I’ve been a few times now. Four to be exact. Not a bad effort, but still the fins are registering at 10 each on the amount paid/times used equation that I have and use for virtually every piece of sports equipment I have. The goggles, not so much, they come in at 7.5. I guess the theory behind that is that if I can get it down to 1 then I’ve done a good job at using it enough – and that it was a valuable purchase for me.
In all honesty I don’t actually swim. It’s more thrashing about, lolling up and back and flailing. The lolling isn’t intentional – I do try, I just find that it’s something that knackers me relatively quickly. That’s such a good thing at the same time, mostly cause I’ll try to work hard and try to keep going for the whole time. I try to keep my heart rate up for the entire time, and at the moment it’s working.
After a couple of weeks of going, I realised that it’s not all so bad. There are some good things about swimming.
1. It’s hard. Freaking hard. I have to work harder cause I literally just thrash about.
2. It’s an escape.
