The Bitch Inside

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Yesterday I swam in the Duke Kahanamoku Ocean Mile Swim and finished with a time of 36:17:00. There were about 400 people competing, with the men launching 5 minutes before the women. Before the start, I was standing around waiting … Continue reading

Get in the Pool

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#postaday (well, sorta). When I get home from work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I immediately put on my swim suit, tell my girls to fend for themselves for dinner, and take a nap. Then I go to The Oahu Club … Continue reading

It’s All Dread.

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@postaday 293; #postaday2011. When I get home from work on Thursdays, pulling up to the house in the van with Kid1&2, I am worn out, frazzed, cranky, and longing for wino’clock. For the last couple of Thursdays, I had succumbed … Continue reading

Listening to the young and fit.


@postaday 205; #postaday2011.

I had to chuckle last night while the masters group at The Oahu Club were getting ready for their session with Coach Joe Lileikis. There are some very beautiful specimens in our group. They are young, fit and healthy. They are perfection. They are easy on the eyes, they could be cast in marble, they would photograph well in just goggles.

Then they open their mouths. Yes, hard to believe, but I stay very quiet in these sessions. I find being invisible at times like this rather convenient. Last night one of the  young men talked about how “…since I’m, you know, not even CLOSE to 40 yet…” he was expecting that something was going to work out really well. I don’t know what it was: A North Shore rough water swim, this weekend’s Tin Man triathlon, a job interview, a date. I wasn’t paying that much attention, so I’m not that sure. Then one of the  young girls started talking about how “…she was going to do the Tin Man but she didn’t know why she let herself get caught up in all this stuff. It had been so long since she had ever done a triathlon, like, when she was 18 or so…and that was like you know nearly six years ago!”

My filters were engaged because I knew she wouldn’t get it were I to giggle out loud.

These youngsters don’t talk with the old futs much. Comfortably behind my goggles, I don’t look around to see if any of the other older swimmers are as amused as I am at their narcissisms. Actually, it’s not all that interesting. The only thing I want to do is swim, do what I’m told in the water, and somehow survive the hour.

Based on how I’m feeling, I automatically go into the slowest lane. Sometimes I get relocated to a faster lane, sometimes I don’t. Continue reading