Finness: The Chronicles of a Triathlete and Her Dog

If you have the choice between dragging your self out of your cozy bed at 4:45am to go to masters’ swim or doing an afternoon swim workout created by your coach:  GO TO MASTERS’ SWIM!!!  Especially if the workout contains the words “let’s make it easy”.  “Let’s make it easy” is apparently code for: “let’s fool you into thinking this set is easy by giving you some fairly comfortable interval times but let’s add a twist by MAKING YOU DROWN (in public)”.

I mistakenly opted for the “let’s make it easy” swim yesterday.  The pool is always a little crowded after work, but I found a lane that was willing to circle and got down to business.  One of the men in my lane - huge shoulders(who am I to talk - I have big shoulders), tattoos (who am I to talk - I have tattoos), probably owns a motorcycle (I do not) - started a little game of “I can too” when he saw me swimming fly which turned into a LONG game of “I can too” when I felt the need to match his fly and show him more of mine.  So this animalistic posturing went on for the bulk of my workout and I was feeling pretty good about him not catching me or spending ANY time hanging on to my feet.  I was feeling smug.  And there were swimming lessons going on, so there were plenty of people to notice my beeeautiful fly strokes.  I was feeling good about myself and the world at large.  UNTIL…I got to the part in my workout that said this: “300 swim w/ ankles crossed”.  I’ve heard about this but wasn’t worried because “I barely use my legs to swim anyway”.  WRONG!!! 

Not thinking anything of it, I crossed my ankles and started to swim.  3 strokes into it my legs were dragging well below the surface of the water.  6 strokes into it my legs were beneath my body.  146 strokes into it I had reached the other end and was laughing HARD.  It was ridiculous.  I had spent the better part of an hour demonstrating my exceptional swim prowess only to publicly demonstrate my apparent affinity for drowning!  Not only did I look like I was drowning, but I was laughing, which no doubt translated to sputtering for anyone watching from the sidelines.  It was bad.  300 yards of it.  Flailing, sputtering, cracking up.  No arm turnover seemed to make a difference.  I was swimming with a full view of my feet.  Folks, this is wrong.  This is cruel and unusual punishment.  I am not one to complain about assigned workouts - I paid for them afterall - but this ankle crossing is WAY over the top.  I beg of you….GO TO MASTERS’ INSTEAD!!

The upside?  It made my strength workout look like a piece of cake.