Let's Swimming! (The Recap)

We did it!


Waking up was surprisingly easy... I got six hours of sleep, so maybe Sarah's on to something with this theory of sleeping in time-multiples of three. There was none of the usual "Tired, Nanny" nonsense that I experience every day. (When I'm tired, I talk like a Muppet Baby.)

So what was it like at Astoria Pool? Kind of weird!

There didn't appear to be any changing stations, and I'm still a bit shocked by moments of male nudity. In Florida, we just don't do that. In New York, everyone's naked all the time. The locker room was mostly empty, so the views of penii were few and far between, but there was still the moment of, "Oh, is this the way it works? ...OK, then."

I was glad to find Lauren once I got outside, since the layout is confusing to a n00b. They roped off half the pool, then had signs designating "Slow," "Medium," and "Fast." Actually, that's not confusing at all, but there was also a sign-in table and I didn't know what that was about, and is there any etiquette to entering the pool and starting to do laps?

Turns out not really. Lauren put on her bathing cap and opted for the Medium lanes, while I stuck to the safety of the Slow lanes. I felt more comfortable competing with the old guy walking in a brace. Not that this is about competition, but it was nice being speedy in the Slow lane as opposed to the idiot who doesn't belong in the Medium lane.

The water was colder than I'd have liked, but now that I think about it, it was perfectly fine. It's a shame the prime afternoon hours are wasted on the youth and everyone else, as that's my favorite time to swim.

And swim I did! Or didn't... to be honest. I got tired so fast! And then I just started walking the width of the pool (apparently 165 feet), but pushing really hard with my arms. There's no shame in it, I tell myself. I just have to get my strength back.

I "swam" about six laps before calling it quits. If my calculations are correct (and they probably aren't), that's 1980 feet.

Lauren was wiped out by that time, too, so we dried off and looked at the sign-in table. Everyone has a card, and if you swim X amount (it might be 25 miles, which is the length of Manhattan or something... or I could be 100% wrong on all this, I should've read more about it), you get a free t-shirt proving you are a dedicated swimmer.

I like t-shirts, and I'd like to win this one! But I don't think I can. 25 miles? That's, literally a billion feet! At my current rate, I'd have to swim for 66 days, which is too many days before the pool closes at the end of summer.

Also, no way I can do this every day. Maybe every other day. I'd like to, at least. I know my arms will be all noodle-like and dead by the middle of this afternoon, so I'll need a day to recuperate.

So no free t-shirt, but yes free swimming! Take that, Negatory M. Chopbuster!

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to be the oldest person at the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows paperback release.