In a pretty short amount of time, S has come a long way with her bike riding. She can now ride all the way to the nearest neighborhood playground without needing a push or to stop and
complain restart. What she hasn't picked up, however, are some basic biking manners - namely not stopping your bike mid-sidewalk and hopping off to pick a flower when a much heavier, faster person is coming up behind you. So I crashed. As crashes go, it was fairly minor except that I landed on the playground, which is covered in mulch. I had tons of tiny little mulch splinters in my legs and hands. There is no way to count the removal of those as anything even remotely close to exercise, so I'll move right along with my point. Not a lot of exercise going on last Thursday. And I hurt my back in the fall. Boo!
Friday morning was pyramid lifting, arc trainer bliss, and stupid ol' push-ups. A pretty decent workout, even if I do say so myself.
On Saturday morning I got up early to ride my bike before I went to babysit. It was cold and raining, which meant I did two laps around the area instead of the 4 I had planned on. Meh.
Sunday R and I hit the Y with the intention of actually swimming during the lap swim time. HA! I should have known better. WARNING!! Bitching ahead - brace yourselves. The pool at the Y isn't big. Dedicated lap swim times are pretty few and far between, so I try to swim on Sundays whenever possible. R and I have yet to try and swim on Sunday without at least one of the lanes being taken up by a private lesson. There's also a lady that comes in around 12:15 who always jumps in the lane I'm in. Never anyone else's lane, even though she stops to talk to almost everyone else who's swimming.
Look - I get that lanes need to be shared from time to time. But let's face it, I'm not petite and right now my strokes and alignment are all over the place (probably because I can't seem to get in any decent swim time). So the last thing that I find helpful is to share the lane with Froggy Barnacle and her flippers. Flippers, people. WE ARE IN A POOL. The kind without a current or undertow. The deep end is barely 8 feet deep. A complete lap is only 50 meters. What the f-bomb does she think is going to happen? Plus, she never even asks to share the lane first, which is just horrible etiquette. When she jumped into the lane I was using again on Sunday, it just ruined my groove. Pissed, I ducked under to R's lane and told him I'd been invaded and I was going to change and hit the cardio machines and fantasize about stepping on her damn flippers and holding her underwater to get my point across.
Did I mention I was irritated?
I rinsed off, got dressed and ended up on a treadmill. I know that I'm not supposed to do this, but I walked two minutes, jogged two minutes, walked a minute, jogged 30 seconds, etc for about 30 minutes. And, holla! I never ran out of breath and my heart rate never got too high. Progress!
When I was done, I felt better but was still angry and decided I was going to email the aquatics director and ask if I could pay for private lessons with an instructor that will then sit at the end of the pool and keep Froggy Flipper girl out of my damn lane.
And then reality set in and I decided that I was being childish. Not as childish as I wished to be on Sunday when I had to mentally restrain myself from marching back into the pool area and doing a big, splashy cannonball into the lane I was using until I was rudely interrupted.....
What's that? Why didn't I say something to her? Remember how your mom used to tell you if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all? That's why. I know that it's silly to get so upset over this. I would just like for once to get in a full 50 minutes of swim time without having to share a lane. I have to share just about everything else at the moment, can I not just have a 50 minute swim?!??! Please!?!?!?!
Monday was back to pyramid lifting and push-ups. I took Tuesday off because I was feeling awfully lazy and then today I did an excellent elliptical session followed by some serious weight training and abs. Tomorrow? Jillian Michaels promises to shred me. We'll see, Jillian. We'll see.