July 19, 2012

• Blogatage

  Blogatage (v) – to deliberately obstruct the process of blogging

  
  My summer schedule and my laptop are blogataging my attempts to update Xanga lately. On my iPhone, I can keep up with reading the Xanga blogs to which I subscribe. I can even comment on said blogs, though it takes me forever to say what I want to say, and sometimes I cut the comments short (for better or worse), or even just lurk around without putting in my two cents. I have attempted to update my blog from the phone on rare occasion. It is not fun for me and my large fingers, and the auto correct function alone is enough to make me scream. So when I finally find a few quiet minutes away from the kids, with my laptop, and something to say (which, surprising as it may seem, is not always the case) — then the laptop decides to lock up, be slow, and spin it’s excruciatingly frustrating rainbow wheel in my face. 

  Right now, I managed to muster up enough patience to wait out the spinny wheel of doom.

  And what is so important that I was able to put off taking a shower long enough to write this blog post? DUH – I made up a new word. (See above.) 

  Nah, just kidding. I mean, I did make up that word – but that’s not what I wanted to write about.

  I thought you might want to know that all my years of sitting poolside for summer, winter, and sometimes fall swim seasons has finally paid off for me. I haven’t been able to run lately, thanks to a mild ankle injury obtained in a moment of less-than-graceful step aerobics in my bedroom. After taking a week off from the cardio (which was equal parts lovely and horrifying for me), I finally put on my out of style one piece bathing suit, purchased from the SALE! page of Lands End about a zillion years ago. The Mr. found me pacing around our bedroom in it last weekend, as I tried to work up the nerve to hit the indoor pool at the YMCA to “swim some laps.” I put that in quotes, because I pictured myself amidst lanes of triathletes and former swim team champs, flailing my arms and gasping for breath while clutching my kiddy sized kickboard with white knuckles.

  As he always does, the Mr. came through for me and told me to get over myself and get in the pool. He also lent me his goggles and a swim cap. He’s a good egg.

  Off I went to the pool, where I was surprised to find no one else in the water. On the one hand, this was good – no Olympic hopefuls to laugh at my inadequacies. However, it made me a bit self conscious to have the two lifeguards watching my every waterlogged move.

  After a few old lady looking attempts at breast stroke, I switched to a gaspy freestyle and started to find my groove. I embraced the kickboard. And then I started doing backstroke.

  Holy cow, I rock the backstroke.

  Seriously, my timing is SENSATIONAL. The Olympics are starting in just a few short days! If they need me, I’m ready and willing to hop across the pond and share my prowess with the world.

  I have watched my kids do every stroke enough times to know exactly what they need to fix to improve their times. I am always giving them tips, and thankfully, they have never really noticed that I cannot swim nearly as good as they can, and am basically a total sham. But now that I have become a backstroking GENIUS, I think I will have more credibility.

  My freestyle is coming along nicely, too. Less gasping, more pulling, better kicks. It has a long way to go, though.  I have now had 4 indoor swim sessions at the Y, and one very brief one at the outdoor pool (for fear of the sun). Man, is swimming good exercise.

  I love backstroke. Ears under water, where you can’t even hear 3 lanes worth of daycare kids hooting and hollering just a few feet away. Face up towards the ceiling where there is plenty of air to breathe. Shoulders and arms pumping, getting a good workout. 

   

  Watch out, London. Here I come.

  • 5:15 pm
  • 5 Comments