Evening folks. If I'm typing a little slower tonight, it's because I've just spent all my energy in the swimming pool. First of all I cajoled (cajole is the word of the day!) myself into going up for a swim. I fully intended to struggle through about 20 lengths, of the 25m pool. Turns out, on a Monday night (must be a new year thing) that there's coaching.
tr. & intr.v. coached, coach·ing, coach·es,: The act of pretending to help somebody exercise whilst actually performing psychological torture experiments on behalf of a variety of secret government agencies.
I stopped struggling at 24 laps, and thrashed gracelessly through the final 6 to make a satisfying 30 lengths this evening. But in fairness I noticed I'm able to hold my form for a little longer than the last time I swam, 10 days ago. So it must be a good thing. Or at least I'm getting better at it.
tr. & intr.v. coached, coach·ing, coach·es,: The act of pretending to help somebody exercise whilst actually performing psychological torture experiments on behalf of a variety of secret government agencies.
I stopped struggling at 24 laps, and thrashed gracelessly through the final 6 to make a satisfying 30 lengths this evening. But in fairness I noticed I'm able to hold my form for a little longer than the last time I swam, 10 days ago. So it must be a good thing. Or at least I'm getting better at it.
Ah, do you remember the days you'd be able to swim 80 lengths on a Friday night? I do. That was a long time ago.
Well it's goodnight from me, and goodnight from him (gratuitous linkage).
Listening to: The Hothouse Flowers - Into your Heart
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