Swimmingly
I have to say, this is the longest I’ve ever tried to be healthy with so little to show for it.
Granted, making Pakora over the weekend may not be *entirely* healthy, but it’s veggies, right?
While my diet may take a step or two down the wayward path, one thing that hasn’t faltered is my new commitment to working out. The scale numbers may not be moving down that quickly, but the blood pressure ones are and I am loving it. I can go to the doctor without fear of being put on medication now. Not that I am exactly sure why I fear BP meds so much. Except that someone who takes BP meds is old. Very, very old. And I am young. YOUNG DAMNIT. Now where is my anti-inflamitory? If I don’t take it, I can’t get out of bed in the morning.
About two weeks ago, determined to get out of this one-hundred-mumble-mumble-five pound rut, I started swimming. We have a pool as part of the condo, it’s warm enough here in FL now, and I have always been a bit of a water child. Plus, Tom suggested it. After suggesting several times we go and lay by the pool. (Which, I am physically incapable of doing. If you want me to just lay around in the sun, get me very drunk first.) All of this suggesting made me think Tom might actually come to the pool with me. Which…not so much.
But since he’s involved in only 2/7 of my life anymore, that hardly matters. The first time I went, I was stunned by how breathless I got. It was obviously an exercise challenge to me. It was also an exercise where if I sweated buckets, it didn’t stick to me. Score.
I am now completely addicted. Not so much to the joy of the water, the challenge of more laps, or even the feeling that I have started the day on the right foot.
I am absolutely in love with the complete, utter, exhaustion I feel afterwards. It is like the all those I-get-it-now cliches coming true at once and I understand the joy of just doing nothing. Remember how drunk you have to get me to stay still? Screw that. Just make me swim a few laps.