Sunday, October 18, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Still Here Dancing with the Groo Grux King
I did it.
The alarm went of at 5 on Wednesday morning, and by 5:30 I was handing a check for $195 to the coach at Mercerwood Shore Club. I am officially back in the pool, with a new home. Through the end of the year, anyway.
I liked the workout, but I am warped for pool swimming for awhile.
"How are you?" yelled Mike Shaeffer from the edge of lane 6 when he arrived.
"A little rusty!" I answered, red faced and panting after a mere 200 meters.
"A little lusty?" Mike yelled back.
Swimcaps across the pool popped up and swiveled to see what he was talking about. And hence I have a new nickname, at my new pool, before I even had a single workout in.
Tomorrow I will wear a different suit and cap and hope for anonymity.
There is a price to pay for four months of lake swimming, in the shape of 2-3 weeks of pool hell, but I will open my fitness wallet for that pleasure any day.
Today I'd hoped to swim in the lake with Brendan and Geoff, but the bank of fog that rolled in during the wee hours, combined with Geoff's last minute "I'm out" voicemail had me hopping back under the covers.
I'm back in the pool tomorrow, with plans for a mermaid swim Saturday morning. The air temperature will likely be below 40, the dew on the grass excruciatingly cold as we scamper from the sidewalk to the shore. But since the water is about 20 degrees warmer, I declare that lake season is still not officially over.
Which brings me to the Groo Grux King.
Every summer I have a theme song (last year: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KE2orthS3TQ).
It's been a funny summer on that front; it's been a hard one to peg with lyrics and a beat without biking and running.
The early front runner was Into the Ocean by Blue October. Followed by Fireflies by Owl City. And then, sometime in July, I bought the new DMB CD, Big Whiskey and the Groo Grux King. And played tracks 5-7 over, and over, and over, on the way to the beach and back, week after week.
So here it is. The theme song of the summer of 2009 is a dark horse...Driver Education by the Indigo Girls.
Reading the lyrics won't do it justice, but youtube has no quality videos. Try for me:
I fell for guys who tried to commit suicide,
With soft rock hair and blood shot eyes.
He tastes like Marlboro cigarettes,
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups,
A Pepsi in his hand, getting off the school bus.
Films and drills and safety illustrations
The crushed cars of driver education
Now its tattooed girls with a past they can't remember,
Who pledged allegiance to a life of bending the curriculum.
She tastes like spring, there she goes again,
Drinking with the older guys, tripping by the lakeside.
Films and drills and safety illustrations
The crushed cars of driver education
When you were sweet sixteen, I was already mean and
Feeling bad for giving it up to the man just to make the scene.
Where were you, back when I had something to prove,
With the switchblade set and the church kids learning my moves?
I ran for miles through the suburbs of the seventies,
Pollen dust and Pixie sticks, kissing in the deep end
Of swimming pools before I knew what's in there.
We come into this life waterlogged and tender.
The song resonates because the two things I remember my about my 15th summer were driver's education...and learning how to swim fast. Maybe because this summer was dedicated to swimming only. And because the song reminded me of things I hadn't thought about in a quarter century. Oh, and that last line says it all.
Honorable mention: Shake Me Like a Monkey by DMB. Somehow I just couldn't pick a song with that name.
Still here dancing...
The alarm went of at 5 on Wednesday morning, and by 5:30 I was handing a check for $195 to the coach at Mercerwood Shore Club. I am officially back in the pool, with a new home. Through the end of the year, anyway.
I liked the workout, but I am warped for pool swimming for awhile.
"How are you?" yelled Mike Shaeffer from the edge of lane 6 when he arrived.
"A little rusty!" I answered, red faced and panting after a mere 200 meters.
"A little lusty?" Mike yelled back.
Swimcaps across the pool popped up and swiveled to see what he was talking about. And hence I have a new nickname, at my new pool, before I even had a single workout in.
Tomorrow I will wear a different suit and cap and hope for anonymity.
There is a price to pay for four months of lake swimming, in the shape of 2-3 weeks of pool hell, but I will open my fitness wallet for that pleasure any day.
Today I'd hoped to swim in the lake with Brendan and Geoff, but the bank of fog that rolled in during the wee hours, combined with Geoff's last minute "I'm out" voicemail had me hopping back under the covers.
I'm back in the pool tomorrow, with plans for a mermaid swim Saturday morning. The air temperature will likely be below 40, the dew on the grass excruciatingly cold as we scamper from the sidewalk to the shore. But since the water is about 20 degrees warmer, I declare that lake season is still not officially over.
Which brings me to the Groo Grux King.
Every summer I have a theme song (last year: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KE2orthS3TQ).
It's been a funny summer on that front; it's been a hard one to peg with lyrics and a beat without biking and running.
The early front runner was Into the Ocean by Blue October. Followed by Fireflies by Owl City. And then, sometime in July, I bought the new DMB CD, Big Whiskey and the Groo Grux King. And played tracks 5-7 over, and over, and over, on the way to the beach and back, week after week.
So here it is. The theme song of the summer of 2009 is a dark horse...Driver Education by the Indigo Girls.
Reading the lyrics won't do it justice, but youtube has no quality videos. Try for me:
I fell for guys who tried to commit suicide,
With soft rock hair and blood shot eyes.
He tastes like Marlboro cigarettes,
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups,
A Pepsi in his hand, getting off the school bus.
Films and drills and safety illustrations
The crushed cars of driver education
Now its tattooed girls with a past they can't remember,
Who pledged allegiance to a life of bending the curriculum.
She tastes like spring, there she goes again,
Drinking with the older guys, tripping by the lakeside.
Films and drills and safety illustrations
The crushed cars of driver education
When you were sweet sixteen, I was already mean and
Feeling bad for giving it up to the man just to make the scene.
Where were you, back when I had something to prove,
With the switchblade set and the church kids learning my moves?
I ran for miles through the suburbs of the seventies,
Pollen dust and Pixie sticks, kissing in the deep end
Of swimming pools before I knew what's in there.
We come into this life waterlogged and tender.
The song resonates because the two things I remember my about my 15th summer were driver's education...and learning how to swim fast. Maybe because this summer was dedicated to swimming only. And because the song reminded me of things I hadn't thought about in a quarter century. Oh, and that last line says it all.
Honorable mention: Shake Me Like a Monkey by DMB. Somehow I just couldn't pick a song with that name.
Still here dancing...
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Love of my Life Guard
Last week Mike and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary.
And today, the man who has given me the best of everything for a decade and a half (and more, if you count all the good stuff that happened before the jewelry was exchanged that September afternoon in 1994) delivered another really great present.
I had a hard time rallying pals to for a lake swim today, but was really eager to go. It's gorgeous out, but summer is fading fast. Every opportunity to get into the water has become a precious one. As well as I know the southbound course from Madison Park, and as buoyant as I am in a wetsuit, you can't deny the dangers of swimming alone.
Mike volunteered to play lifeguard for me, hanging out with a book and a bagel on the beach while I swam for about 50 minutes. It was so reassuring to flip over as I rounded the dock out of the swimming area to see him standing in the bright morning sun, watching me.
There was a wicked little wind out there, pushing me south and creating some challenging ripples to overcome on the inbound trip.
When I returned to the beach, Mike had my NEW! monkey slippers in hand. What a sweet morning.
And today, the man who has given me the best of everything for a decade and a half (and more, if you count all the good stuff that happened before the jewelry was exchanged that September afternoon in 1994) delivered another really great present.
I had a hard time rallying pals to for a lake swim today, but was really eager to go. It's gorgeous out, but summer is fading fast. Every opportunity to get into the water has become a precious one. As well as I know the southbound course from Madison Park, and as buoyant as I am in a wetsuit, you can't deny the dangers of swimming alone.
Mike volunteered to play lifeguard for me, hanging out with a book and a bagel on the beach while I swam for about 50 minutes. It was so reassuring to flip over as I rounded the dock out of the swimming area to see him standing in the bright morning sun, watching me.
There was a wicked little wind out there, pushing me south and creating some challenging ripples to overcome on the inbound trip.
When I returned to the beach, Mike had my NEW! monkey slippers in hand. What a sweet morning.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Wetsuit Welcome
Today I swam for the first time since La Jolla Cove. I have had to prioritize work, traveling and also giving up the pre-work swim to get in the office before 6 am.
Today's dip almost made up for it.
I wore my wetsuit for the first time since mid July. The lake temperature is still really nice; somewhere in the high 60s. Tatyana, Ruth, Jan and I enjoyed an easy round trip to the Cove, and I loved skimming on top of the water with the added buoyancy the wetsuit provides. I missed the feel of the water on my arms and legs, though.
I hope to hit the lake a few more times before flying to LA for a week on Tuesday morning and possibly hanging up my earplugs in for the season. It has been such a long lovely summer of swimming and so much more. I can't remember a happier one.
Since my last post I paid a visit to the loveable and capable Dr. O'Kane, who has referred me to a colleague who specializes in knees. Oh, and knee surgery. We are going to do one more diagnostic (something to do with a treadmill and lidocaine) on 10/14 and then we'll know for sure if exploratory surgery is the only thing that might bring me back to good.
It has taken almost six months, but I am actually starting to miss running. Maybe that's because it's autumn, the temperature is perfect, the leaves are changing, and all the stuff I'm allergic to has either died off or gone away.
I am dedicating the winter to fixing my knee -- it is my singular training goal.
I want to do triathlons again, perform well, and enjoy the lean fitness of that life.
I weigh 120 pounds today but don't think I've been this soft in a dozen years. Swimming makes me happy, but it doesn 't make me skinny.
I came home from NYC Wednesday to find a trophy from Danskin in the mail box. I guess I was third in the amateur elite category. I'll take that.
I will post the grinning idiot photo soon, and close the book on my 12th time around that race course.
Today's dip almost made up for it.
I wore my wetsuit for the first time since mid July. The lake temperature is still really nice; somewhere in the high 60s. Tatyana, Ruth, Jan and I enjoyed an easy round trip to the Cove, and I loved skimming on top of the water with the added buoyancy the wetsuit provides. I missed the feel of the water on my arms and legs, though.
I hope to hit the lake a few more times before flying to LA for a week on Tuesday morning and possibly hanging up my earplugs in for the season. It has been such a long lovely summer of swimming and so much more. I can't remember a happier one.
Since my last post I paid a visit to the loveable and capable Dr. O'Kane, who has referred me to a colleague who specializes in knees. Oh, and knee surgery. We are going to do one more diagnostic (something to do with a treadmill and lidocaine) on 10/14 and then we'll know for sure if exploratory surgery is the only thing that might bring me back to good.
It has taken almost six months, but I am actually starting to miss running. Maybe that's because it's autumn, the temperature is perfect, the leaves are changing, and all the stuff I'm allergic to has either died off or gone away.
I am dedicating the winter to fixing my knee -- it is my singular training goal.
I want to do triathlons again, perform well, and enjoy the lean fitness of that life.
I weigh 120 pounds today but don't think I've been this soft in a dozen years. Swimming makes me happy, but it doesn 't make me skinny.
I came home from NYC Wednesday to find a trophy from Danskin in the mail box. I guess I was third in the amateur elite category. I'll take that.
I will post the grinning idiot photo soon, and close the book on my 12th time around that race course.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Campfire Song
Allow me to begin with a brief photo essay of beautiful girls.
And our natural habitat.
Tatyana captured it best, didn't she, when she said that looking into the waves is like looking into a fire.
I have always found the ocean more mesmerizing to the ear than the eye, but I liked what she said.
I have always found the ocean more mesmerizing to the ear than the eye, but I liked what she said.
The ocean has sung three words to me, commanding over and over, since I was a little girl: Return Unto Me. Not return to me. But return unto me. Somehow that extra syllable completes the musical phrase perfectly with every crash and ebb.
So over the last few days, we did just that.
Tatyana, Jan, Liz and I traveled to San Diego to take part in the 79th annual La Jolla Rough Water Swim.
There is too much to say about the magic of the weekend to do it justice. Consciousness streaming is wimpy writing, but it's the best I can do with the things I hope I'll never forget.
Lily's sparkly shoes.
Cheering for the waves, and making them bigger. (And diving into them anyway.)
Little kids being tossed on 6 foot waves and swimming on.
Having the race live up to its name, and then some.
Jan's hardware.
Liz's pace per 100: 1:39.
My pace per 100: 1:39.
Finishing 8th out of 18.
Chatting with Michellie Jones and not knowing it.
Being pictured as a horse on her twitter site.
Jan's "run through Architectural Digest."
The lifeguard towing the old local guy out of the cove on Monday morning, and wanting to be that guy, 40 years from now.
Taking pictures of random houses at Windansea hoping one of them was Raymond Chandler's. (They weren't.)
Tatyana's bikini bottoms anchored to her fins in the foamy wave ends.
World class body surfing in Del Mar.
Sand in your hoo hoo (and everywhere else).
La Jolla Love Suites.
Liz flirting with the guy with the red surf board.
The rest of us flirting with everyone else.
The best dang nachos on the planet at Karl Strauss.
The sparkle in Liz's eye when I said as day broke Sunday morning, Do you want to go for a walk?
My nose is peeling.
Return unto me.
Someone over the weekend said it was a cruel joke to have been born with arms and legs, and not a tail and fins.
Someone over the weekend said it was a cruel joke to have been born with arms and legs, and not a tail and fins.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tribute to Earplugs
"There's something nuanced about them. It's like magic." -- Joseph (who wore not only earplugs, but a wetsuit this morning)
Monday, September 7, 2009
Pumpkin Spice Warm Down
So today for the first time I thought to myself, this has stopped being sensible. Not that it is going to keep me from charging into the lake in the rain and dark for as long as I've got company, but today it really seemed silly.
Geoff, Liz and I met at Caulkin's Landing in the windy rain, shuttled to Luther Burbank Park, shivered down the path to the dock, and hopped in. For the next 2.5-ish miles, I never got warm. The water was surprisingly smooth until we rounded the north end of Mercer Island and the wind turned toward us. I love swimming under I-90. Something about it seems so naughty. Liz and I swam the distance in just over 1:10.
Despite the "flashdance" shower of hot water from a gallon jug brought from home, I stayed awfully cold. Liz sat on my lap as Geoff drove my car back to LB, which was snuggly and warmed me up a little. Geoff saw I was still shivering and suggested we stop at Starbucks for some tea top off our core temps, which to me meant only one thing: a Pumpkin Spice Latte. PSL, which Starbucks serves up between 9/1 and Christmas, signals autumn to my taste buds like little else. I felt smug drinking one after a non-wetsuit swim. Fall, you can't catch me.
We ran into Mike, Tom, Tatyana and Howard chilling out over coffee after their MSC swim. Why do swimmers make me laugh like no one else? Do other sports have things like pull buoy humor, clock nazis, upside down lane dynamics and fin throwing rancor at 5:08 am? I don't know. But I'm glad we do. Dude, I think your cap's too tight.
It's been a really fun long weekend of swimming. I know our ranks will thin in the coming weeks, between chlorine addiction and diminishing daylight, but I'm in it as long as I can be. Trick or Treat.
Geoff, Liz and I met at Caulkin's Landing in the windy rain, shuttled to Luther Burbank Park, shivered down the path to the dock, and hopped in. For the next 2.5-ish miles, I never got warm. The water was surprisingly smooth until we rounded the north end of Mercer Island and the wind turned toward us. I love swimming under I-90. Something about it seems so naughty. Liz and I swam the distance in just over 1:10.
Despite the "flashdance" shower of hot water from a gallon jug brought from home, I stayed awfully cold. Liz sat on my lap as Geoff drove my car back to LB, which was snuggly and warmed me up a little. Geoff saw I was still shivering and suggested we stop at Starbucks for some tea top off our core temps, which to me meant only one thing: a Pumpkin Spice Latte. PSL, which Starbucks serves up between 9/1 and Christmas, signals autumn to my taste buds like little else. I felt smug drinking one after a non-wetsuit swim. Fall, you can't catch me.
We ran into Mike, Tom, Tatyana and Howard chilling out over coffee after their MSC swim. Why do swimmers make me laugh like no one else? Do other sports have things like pull buoy humor, clock nazis, upside down lane dynamics and fin throwing rancor at 5:08 am? I don't know. But I'm glad we do. Dude, I think your cap's too tight.
It's been a really fun long weekend of swimming. I know our ranks will thin in the coming weeks, between chlorine addiction and diminishing daylight, but I'm in it as long as I can be. Trick or Treat.
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