Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Water, Water Everywhere

Right, just a quick follow-up to the whole "I think I'm a swimmer! That's the exercise for me!"

I'm in that charming part of the northeast that's got more water than it knows what to do with. While the flooding hasn't been too bad, it does smell like a swamp in my basement, and the low lying areas around our house are getting washed out, making the task of getting across town a test of my internal GPS.

Who would have known that so much wet outside would disqualify getting wet inside?

First, the indoor pool at the gym was closed because their pumps were overloaded (water damage at a pool; who knew?). It opened yesterday, and I trotted down there, put on the suit, the cap, the goggles. They delayed the opening for 15 minutes, but then, miracle of miracles, I had arrived at the natatory nirvana: three people, six lanes, and my fellow swimmers were actually going to do laps. The long way, rather than walking across the short length of the pool. [Don't laugh: that was my last experience. And the biddies were all huffy, like I was getting in their way and wetting the polyester petals of their caps.]

All right, so I was about 20 laps in, had worked up to heavy breathing, and was beginning to think about how I might configure strokes and drills for the remaining 50 laps or so of my workout, when the lifeguard ordered us all out of the pool. Because there was a thunderstorm. ???!! Last time I checked, thunder and lightning happened OUTSIDE. They were expecting, perhaps, some sort of freak accident, all Final Destination style? Like someone left a metal rake on the roof which is just touching a support beam which leads to the shower wherein someone will drop the golf club she happens to be carrying which will allow a stray lightning bolt to enter the building and arc into the pool? WTF, my friends.

So apparently, the rule is this: whenever a clap of thunder is heard, the lifeguard clears the pool. For 30 minutes. Unless more thunder sounds, at which point they have to wait 30 minutes from the last incident. And the pool closes in 45 minutes. Needless to say, I was back in the car and at home 10 minutes later.

Thinking that I was willing to shed my last vestige of pride (because students + me in a bathing suit=end of any and all authority) , I called the campus aquatic "center" (think: pool and office), only to discover that the pool is closed for maintenance until classes begin.

It's a horrible thing when you're willing to prostrate yourself on the altar of exercise only to be rebuffed.

And so my dreams of phelps-like similitude are on hold for two weeks. I have to assume that my mutant body will still be there to take up the challenge.



Anonymous The Bittersweet Girl said...

I can't believe you'd even consider the campus pool! That's real dedication ... or, maybe, insanity. I won't even workout at my campus gym for fear of the humiliation that would ensue if any of my students witnessed me huffing, sweating, and jiggling away on the treadmill. Ugh.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008 9:14:00 AM  
Blogger kfluff said...

Yes, it's a move of desperation. I avoid the campus gym like the plague as well, since the inner thigh machine is inevitably facing the treadmills. Delightful.

Thursday, August 14, 2008 8:00:00 AM  

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