Last night when we arrived at the swimming pool, there was a man in the lap lane. A big man. Swimming really slow. Breast stroke. Really really slow. Like he looked like the pool was filled with gel instead of water. I wondered if that could even really be considered swimming laps. We couldn't share the lane with him because we were swimming like twice his speed (and we are slow!!). So I climb into the next (unprotected from run rats by a floating line) lane and proceed with my swim. 42 laps for just over 1000 yards in about 35 minutes. Preston told me that he actually heard Big Slow Breast Stroker (BSBS) admonish some kids to get out of the lap lane!!
Anyways, I felt pretty good in the pool. I only swam 2 laps of breast stroke to warm up, after that it was all freestyle! I was starting to feel a little faster and more efficient, but I'm still having to pause every second lap or so to catch my breath.
This morning called for a short run on OHR: 30 minutes, which I would have increased to 36 if I was feeling good. (Yes, it messes up the order of the days, but it also makes it much less likely that I'll skip the longer runs on the weekend!) But there was lightening flashing outside at 4:20 when I woke up. I turned on the radar and saw a gi-normous red blob hovering over our area and decided to tae bo instead.
The irony? The lightening continued at least until 6, when I left, but it never rained. I guess I could have run after all.
Since I figured it was raining somewhere in Houston, and rain always means that some moron has smashed themselves into smithereens on the highway, I decided to leave a bit earlier than normal for my morning commute. I get all my crap into the Menace and set out. Backing out of the driveway: Wait? What's that noise? Hrm... that's new. I'll try speeding up a little as I go down the street and see if that stops it. No... it seems to be getting worse. I think I have a flat tire. Damn, it is a good thing I kept the Mustang! I turn around and drive the 100 yards home, and sure enough, the back right rear tire is flat. I move all my gear over into the 'Stang feeling totally stressed out: hands shaking, talking to myself, etc. I finally get ready to go and continue to feel twitchy because I haven't been in the Mustang in a few weeks and *everything* is in a different location than in the Menace, making me feel like a total moron.
Once I got re-acquainted with my old girl, though, this was the best commute I've had in a loooong time. I was going 70 mph or over allllll the way into work. Until I got to the smushed up idiot. So revise that to *almost* alll the way into work. It was beautiful. I miss my Mustang.
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