Originally posted on August 16
So yesterday my husband and I met at the pool during his lunch break. We were going to tread water and talk about our exciting life, but unfortunately the pool was full of actual swimmers, wearing swim caps and mirrored goggles and lapping intently back and forth. We quietly slipped into the only two open lanes. It was a classic case of peer pressure. I mean there we were, treading like that with our hair and our eyes fully exposed. I was sporting my sunglasses so I looked like a cool chica, but nonetheless like a big pool loser. At least a big lap-pool loser.
Long story short, Alan and I swam laps. Me, cool chica that I am, who has never swam a lap before in my life, actually did glide through the pool for at least 500 meters. We started off nonchalantly with that lap-swim-is-for-losers air about us, but once we got going we built up steam. After we hit that first wall and pushed off in pure Phelpsian style, it was nothin' but pool. Pretty soon we were side by side, huffing and puffing and by lap 3 I had pulled ahead by a full body length. I was kicking my husband's trash.
By lap 5 I felt sorry for him so I started doing the running man so he could catch up. (Did you not wonder what it felt like when you were watching the torch lighting during the opening ceremonies? I did too, so I tried it. You know when you dream that you're running, but you're not moving and it drives you insane. That's exactly how it feels.) So I did the running man for 100 meters and by that time Alan was creeping up on me, plus my thighs were burning, so I pumped up the jam. I didn't hold anything back. Alan was literally riding my wake. Unfortunately he rode my wake right into the wall and beat me by a fingernail.
Still, it was the best doggy paddle I've ever done.