Swimming definitely ain't what it used to be!

I was finally able to cross-train at the gym's sweet pool last night, albeit without the company of wifey.  With new swim trunks and goggles in tow I headed straight to the lockers by the lap lanes and breathed in the memory inducing wafts of chlorinated salt-water.  Now for those of you who didn't know, ol' Art here was a fairly accomplished swimmer back in the glory years of 1972-1983.  My summer league team at the Country Club of Fairfax saw me swim in every division, from 8-Under to 15-18 age groups. From a neophyte that had my mom throw me onto the team as a wee seven year old that had to hold his breath to swim a lap of freestyle, to a blue-ribbon regular winner, setting team and league records whilst building a wonderful rapport with friends and parents that saw me grow up.  I was even scouted and swam on my college team until beer and girls seemed a more worthwhile pursuit!

Anyway, enough of the glory days.  Last night saw me take to an empty lap lane and start counting my laps in a variety of strokes.  I've never swum in a salt-water pool before and science is right, it is more buoyant.  I had a hard time trying to make my complete pull under water in breast stroke before popping back to the surface.  Not that many noticed; the place maybe had ten people in it, not including the 3 lifeguards on duty, each staring into oblivion.  Good to know some things never change!   My first few laps were a snap.  Swimming is like riding a bike, once you learn you never forget--well the mind never forgets that is.  The body has a whole different take on such things.  My mind told my arms and legs what to do from the years of practice and the thousands of laps I've logged, but after ten minutes or so my arms simply didn't want to stretch as far nor pull as hard nor move me as fast.  What the heck?

I recalled a race I swam many moons ago about tightening up on the home lap of a race and the fear and dread of possibly not being able to finish without being disqualified, let alone win.  Thankfully this flashback was not gonna cause me any real consternation other than the now omnipresent reminder that I am a middle-aged oaf  and that I cannot do what I once did or took for granted.  I huffed and puffed my way to a rest after the end of 8 straight laps marveling at the sheer magnitude of my out of shapeness.  Maybe my legs are toning from all the miles put in over these last couple of weeks but the upper body is in sever need of an overhaul.  Weightlifting aside, there is no better overall workout that uses as many muscles as a good swim.  My latissimi dorsi were screaming.  My arms wouldn't go all the way over my head.  I was instinctively stretching my shoulders across my body trying in vain to loosen up.  Sweat beads were popping up on my shoulders, I sure sign I was doing something right.  Of course, my rapid breathing and pulse could have told me that, too!

Once I calmed down enough to try some more, off I went again but now the laps were slower and more labored.  I did my goal of 20 and said enough of that!  I made a point to explore the other amenities the pool had to offer such as the giant whirlpool enclosure and impressive 20-seat hot tub.  I didn't go down the water slide tube although tempted (no they won't let you go down head first!).  The whirlpool has these big pipes that create a circular current that I guess you are supposed to walk against to strengthen your thighs and balance.  Instead, I floated along with is as if an otter at play.  Once I tired of that I waded over to the hot tub which had just a few people in it.  It was way hotter than expected.  No wonder the entire pool area felt like I sauna.  The overflow actually ran into the wading area so that answered my question about the pleasant water temperature all around.  15 minutes of water-jet propulsion bliss and I was spent.

I was hot, tired and relaxed all at the same time.  Getting dressed again proved to be a chore since balance and strength tend to wane when one is so jello-y.  The cool night air wasn't minded in the least as I returned to the car for the five minute drive home.   Staci was no where to be seen--still working on an upgrade for her systems at work, so I made a sandwich for dinner and watched The Runaways.  The chick from Twilight is a dead ringer for Joan Jett.  Staci came home after 8 and immediately headed up to the office to work until 3 am.  So no cross-training for her before our 3 mile run tomorrow.  I just hope I behave for the Super Bowl party we're hosting since our mileage will increase next week yet again.  These "off" days are way too few and far between, unless that is, you work for Suntrust!