swimming and cornnuts

Yesterday was a good day. I cleaned my apartment, did my laundry, and took my first swimming class since probably 1987. I cannot tell how many hundreds of meters I swam in that hour. But it felt good, and I felt like I was a better swimmer after just one class. There's only 3 other people in the class (Angela, Aneek, and Yuli), so Sammy, our instructor, gives us fairly personal attention, which is nice. The great thing about classes, as opposed to exercising on one's own, is that one can't really rationalize stopping until the end of the class. While it's fun to imagine just saying, No, I Don't Feel Like It Anymore, Swim The Next 200 Meters Yourself If You're So Keen On Someone Swimming Them, this is sort of a dumb thing to do if you've signed up for the class for any purpose whatsoever.

I am also now a firm believer in the beauty of swimming goggles. They Keep the Water Out! That's the whole point, right? I'd never worn them long enough to really figure out how well they work. For some reason, when you're not underwater, they're really foggy. But under the water, wow, the clarity! You can see those lines on the bottom that help keep you going straight! I swam the first 100 meters without them, crashing into both sides of the swimming lane, feeling ridiculous, and ended up with sore eyes. Sammy handed me a pair of goggles, and presto-chango, straight swimming and relaxed, pain-free eyeballs. Swimming caps, on the other hand, still need some work. Mine was continually coming off, pulling my hair, and my hair ended up all wet anyway. Apparently the point, from the point of view of the gym, is to keep hair out of the pool--I thought it was to keep my newly-washed hair from getting all chloriny. I should just get a haircut.

And, in sadder news, LWT and I joined the Nebraska Society of New York at the Irish Rogue, in midtown, to watch the Cornhuskers lose to the University of Southern California Trojans. For some reason ol' Coach Callahan decided to restrict our passing game to the fourth quarter, by which time it was too late for Husker Quarterback Zac Taylor's cannon to save us from J.D. Booty's 3 touchdowns (I think some other Trojan scored once too). But the wings and the burgers were good, there were over 200 lively Nebraskans in the house, I got some QT with LWT, and I chatted for a while with a former member of the UNL marching band (alto sax).


Go Big Red.

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