But I was proud of myself, because I had been swimming 10 lengths, or 20 laps, in the 50 metre pool. Until I bragged to my father last Friday.
I went to their house with the kids, for turkey tacos and a swim.
"Dad, guess what? I started swimming again."
"How much are you swimming?"
"That's about a third of a mile. Do you mean 10 lengths?"
"No, 20 lengths. 10 round trip."
"Oh, that's 2/3rds of a mile. Even better. What stroke?"
"Mostly breast stroke. A little freestyle. Maybe 4 lengths. Some backstroke."
"Breast stroke is a lazy stroke."
My dad swam in Memphis, growing up, and held some state records in the butterfly. He went to Iowa, a big ten school, on a swim scholarship. He swam alongside Mark Spitz. When he realized he probably wouldn't make it to the Olympics, he applied to med school to escape the draft. He was accepted, I understand, days before he got drafted to the Vietnam War. So he didn't have to go. Which is why I probably exist on this planet, today.
Damn it, I am NOT lazy. So when I went to the Racquet Club earlier this week, I swam 24 lengths. I added a bunch of freestyle, which really gets my heart rate up. I asked my kid's swim instructor, James, how many lengths was a mile.
I had only done 1200. So today after work, I was determined to do a mile. And I did. 12 laps breast stroke, 12 laps freestyle, and 6 laps modified backstroke - no arms. Just kicks. I had my arms extended above me, like a rocket ship. Or an enema. You pick.
When I was finished, my legs were like jelly. I had one of those awful cramps in my toe - the lack of electrolyte cramps that occur from overdoing it. Despite the fact that I was late picking up Ike to host a party, I had to lay down on a chair and rest for ten minutes, before I was able to walk again.
Hopefully I can impress my dad. If not, I will push it even harder next week.