Playing favorites

Today was the third day of my fitness routine. I’d already ran and biked, and my hamstrings were still a little sore from the run, so it was swimming’s turn. I try not to play favorites. But if I did, swimming has always been my least favorite. I am not good at swimming. in 2007 I improved from awful to mediocre and have been striving to become average ever since, with little success. Running is my first love, and there is obviously something special about that. Plus, I am a decent runner, and I am able to improve when I work hard. It’s easy to love something you are good at and easy to try to get better at something you love. I have a similar relationship with biking.

Biking became my obsession in 2003… Biking is easy to get obsessed with because you can bike an insane amount without getting injured. Bikes take you places you would never go on foot. In fact, during the intense phase of my love affair with the bike, I put more miles on my it than I did on my car. I’ve taken my bicycle to Spain, I’ve pedaled across most of Arizona, and I’ve biked hundreds of miles on  multi-day tours through parts of Colorado and Wyoming. Biking is predominantly a male sport, which is was a major plus, before I met Dan, who incidentally got a road bike just after we started dating. Also, there are so many fun cycling-related things to buy… Not just spandex and obnoxiously bright jerseys but arm warmers, leg warmers, and toe warmers to wear, but also all the stuff you need for your bike. My bike had it’s own closet at one point, full of tires, tubes, CO2 cartridges, various different cassettes, a selection of pedals, extra spacers, tail lights, head lights, bar tape, wrenches of varying sizes, spare wheels, and other accoutrements. Plus bikes are pretty.

Above: My first road bike, purchased 2003. Back then, there were literally three road bikes available that would fit someone as short as me. See the compact geometry?  Now there are many more options for petite cyclists. There is a prize for anyone who leaves a comment stating what is missing from this picture.
Above: My custom  tri bike, purchased 2007. Isn’t she cute? See, the frame is too small for a second water bottle cage on the seat tube. The colors are just because I like them. (I’m not a Broncos fan).

But I digress. This post is about swimming, not biking. I woke up at 6am for the first time all night to feed Sweet Pea. While not unprecedented, this was a rare and cherished occurrence. She nursed until 6:26 and then fell back asleep. Unsure as to whether she would be up in 2 minutes to eat again, I left her in bed with us. At 6:45 I roused her so she could nurse once more before I got up.

As usual, she fell asleep on my boob and continued to suck. See also: sleating (sleep-eating; eating in ones sleep); slursing (sleep-nursing; nursing in ones sleep). When the clock struck 7:00 I popped her off and to my surprise, she just kept sleeping. That little stinker. I have no idea how many times she has tricked me into thinking she was actually eating.  How many nights have I lain awake, in the same exact position for ridiculous periods of time, never daring to disturb her intake of vital nutrients. I can’t believe I was conned by a baby. Any tips on how to determine whether your baby is simply using you as a pacifier versus actually taking in nutrition would be very much appreciated. Help a sister out, and leave a comment!!!

I pumped 2 oz. and got out the door on schedule so that I was in the pool by 8. At 8:01 I realized I had a band-aid on my ankle. For the record, one of my biggest pet peeves is finding used band-aids at the edge of the pool. It’s far more common than you might think, but just as disgusting.  I wasn’t going to deposit the band-aid poolside and be a total hypocrite, so I thought fast while I peeled off said band-aid between strokes. Getting out and depositing it in the nearest trash can would have been the reasonable thing to do had I not been swimming in an outdoor pool on a cold day. Considering the weather was about 40 degrees and overcast, while the water temp was a comfortable 83, getting out of the pool was not an option. The frigid 50 meter walk from the pool to the locker room is a form of torture I endure only because I have to. So I stuffed the band-aid in my bathing cap. Ew, gross, I know, but what would you have done? I welcome you share any better ideas, if you’ve got them.

After swimming 1150 meters in 40 minutes (and yes this is slow but I can’t play the “I haven’t swam in 6 weeks card,” because I’ve always been a slow swimmer), it was time to get out. I enjoyed the hot tub for an unspecified period of time. Throughout my pregnancy I was careful to look at my watch and stay in no more than five minutes, at which point it is invariably just getting good. Now I was free. I was tempted to stay in for an hour, just because I could. Except I couldn’t, really, because I had to get home so Dan could go to work. So I got in the shower. Normally this would not bear mentioning, but I have to mention, it was pure bliss to take a shower and not hear my child crying from the other room.  Same goes for doing my hair and getting dressed. Amazing. The locker room that I used to hate because it was always way too crowded was now my oasis.  I think I might get serious about improving my swim this year…

I never thought I would say this, but I am starting to fall in love with swimming. If I was the type of play favorites, I could even imagine it becoming my favorite.

4 thoughts on “Playing favorites

  1. Anonymous says:

    Pedals.Welcome back to the blogosphere. We’ve missed your humor. So happy for you, Dan, and Sweet Pea.Jon

  2. A Jordan says:

    I was going to say the missing item was your spandex. JK. Tips on whether to tell if your little bugger is just using you as a human pacifier:1. Tiny gentle nibbles or none at all 2. Feet and hands haven’t moved in awhile3. If you suspect it, disengage! What’s the worst that will happen? A small protest and resuming normal pacification activity :)When I first read this blog I had about 3 other ways you could know, but it’s getting late now.

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