@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 to the wino’clock seduction, pouring myself a bubble of merlot, and pouring myself into the Chair of Immobility for a delicious episode of Mad Men. Oh, and eventually I throw together a half-decent meal because I am a mother (oh, yeah, THAT!).
The truth is, I dread the Thursday masters swimming session at The Oahu Club. Don’t get me wrong, I love my coaches. Joe and Tom Lileikis are probably the friendliest and most positive guys I have ever met. I think they even get called on by our Maker to coach guardian angels when they’re feeling a little down in the dumps because humans are such idiots.
Most of the time Joe coaches Tuesday and Tom coaches Thursday. I don’t know if the schedule is designed for distance on Tuesdays and sprints on Thursdays, but that’s how it always seems to work out. Distance is fine. I like it a lot. I wax poetic about it. Sprints are torture. It could be because of my asthma, it could be because I’m out of shape, it could be because I am old. As a result, I found myself dreading all things associated with Tom, which is completely unfair to him.
I talked myself into going last night. I had read the schedule and it looked to me like I was going to have to put my affairs in order. There were 2400 meters planned, sprinkled with sprints and other bursts of joy. I survived. I didn’t have to do all of the planned workout. In fact, Julia, Martha and I were given 300-meter sets while Mike was given the 400-meter sets. The Brothers Lileikis will adjust your personal set, pushing you just hard enough to get you to the point where you’re nearly ready to quit, but always reeling you in with their positive affirmations. I even got some extra attention last night on my breathing and stroke techniques. Do you want to swim masters? Join us! Let me share my, drea…FUN!
What can I say? It doesn’t matter what I’m about to do, I always have a growing germ of dread percolating beneath the surface. Am I going into a meeting with someone? Dread. Am I walking over to Starbucks? Dread. Am I backing the van into a parking space in the structure and possibly holding up traffic for 30 seconds? Dread. Do I have to interview someone on the phone? Dread. Yes, I am a bundle of knots, no matter what I’m about to do. Even when I go to pick up my kids at school, I think I’m going to fall or something. Last night I walked over my cat on the way to the mailbox. To punish me, I thought she was going to sit in the street until a truck removed her from this existence she endures.
Although I love the end of a workout, I dread its beginning. I procrastinate if I have to go to 24-Hour Fitness Hawaii Kai on the weekends. When we are getting ready for a bicycle ride, I always have to go to the bathroom ONE MORE TIME. When I park at Triangle Park with the girls for our #5kin100days, I linger too long in the van. I don’t want to do any of it.
And yet, when I am done…
I don’t know if any of you shoulder the same load of dread as I do. Many of you are so cool, I doubt you know what dread is. It’s my quest to mentally unload this burden I’ve heaped upon myself. I long to be free of it. I long to live without it.