I blame Steve....

As I mentioned last night, I skipped my 7:30pm Monday night swim. I skipped the 1.5 hour, blackout-inducing, booty-reducing workout that also serves as an escape from whatever else may be on my mind as I concentrate intently for 90 minutes on Trying Not To Die.

All day I fully intended and wanted to go. I ate my 6pm bowl of pasta to fuel up on carbs. I got all my work done in time, and my bag was all packed. There was nothing stopping me. So how did this happen? Well, a rather complex rationalization process started to unravel, prompted the side of my brain that rather resents such a brutal ass kicking and wishes the same result could be obtained via 20 minutes on the elliptical or similar. It went down something like this:

6:11: Text comes in from lane mate, Steve, giving me a head's up he's not going. huh. To give some background, I am, by far, the slowest person that swims at this time slot, and I have not yet obtained the mental fortitude to not be intimidated by this. There are a group of 5 or 6 swimmers that are within my grasp of keeping pace with, and if enough of us are there to fill a lane, then I'm in OK shape. If not, it's just, well, pathetic.

6:12: - 7:00: Fleeting thoughts in the back of my brain wondering who else will be at practice. Several mental notes made to get all lane members' cell digits. "So what?!" yells Booty, each time. "You're going!" "Fine..." mumbles Wimpy Self, along with a few unintelligible expletives.

7:00 - 7:10: Lie down on bed to read for just a few minutes prior to departing at 7:15 for practice. Enjoy breeze of ceiling fan. Ah, so nice and cool.

7:11: Recall that awful moment of the first cold dive in the water and the following 50 m spent adjusting to the water temp. Ugh. Only 19 minutes away from that. The deliciously evil thought occurs: What if I just didn't go?

Oh my! How naughty!

7:11 - 7:20: Open combat in my brain as Wimpy Self battles my Booty in a sudden, forceful sneak attack, looping the following arguments:

• You just swam yesterday.
• You didn't sleep well last night and desperately want to sleep early tonight, which never happens on a swim night because said swim revs up your metabolism so much.
• Wouldn't your time be equally well if not better spent working on the basement?
• You can swim tomorrow instead.
• Steve isn't going. Who else might be not going? Remember the time you had to swim in a faster lane and even with fins on you couldn't keep up?
• Didn't the new issue of Time just report that eating well, not exercise, is more effective at weight loss? So you'll just make sure to not eat anything else tonight.

Booty kept its replies short and sweet, "Just GO, you fat fuck. GOOOOO!"

"You know, you don't need to speak to me that way."

Oh, for crying out loud.

Soon I had arrived at the conclusion that it was acceptable to skip practice as long as I a) made good use of the evening by working on unpacking my basement (which I did. some.), b) went to bed and got up early (check and check), and c) swam the next day (not as good as going to practice but better than nothing.) Besides, I had deliberated for so long that it was pointless to go now because I would be late and no one likes a Tardy Tess. (complete BS)

Problem is, even if I do swim today, thus keeping up Wimpy Self's end of the bargain, I still feel like I let myself down.

Please tell me you do this too???

Slave to the Booty,

khop