Life in the Lap Lane

So, as I had written about a few weeks ago, it's high time for a running sabatical. Suprisingly enough I think that I excel at taking a break from running. Only a few days after my marathon my mind was still in this viscious cycle of checking the calendar for the next long run. I did six miles after the scabs healed and soon after I felt as if it was time to give my favorite pastime a real break. The legs are currently now thanking me for such a kind gesture. And you know it's funny the things we tell ourselves (or at least for me) when we're not running...those conversational moments when we take a break, yep, it goes like this, you're driving down the road, could be a country road, could be in the city, you glance out at a stretch of sidewalk or what seems to be endless fence line and you automatically ask yourself "if I pulled over right now and hopped out, could I hammer out 26?" I always say yes. Then I smile. We always want to believe that we've still got it. These are the moments when I know I'm really living. So in my time of rest, while the shoes are nestled into the shoe caddy at the backdoor, I've stumbled upon the next great frontier.......swimming. For an endeavor that started out as simple diversion to my marathon traininig...well, this has become therapy 101 for yours truly. What has two thumbs and loves the lap lane? This girl. I use to take the plunge (every pun intended) a few times a month, now it's become a multi week addiction. Is it just me or is this whole thing starting to sound like "dear diary"?? Anyway, Sydney (my oldest), with swim rucksack strapped down tight and her game face on hops into the loser cruiser and off we head to the Y. It never ceases to amaze me how she leaps in with wreckless abandon. Literally like a fish out of water she goes from pavement to deep end before I rustle off the flip flops. And I wonder, why does she never check the temperature with her toe? Isn't this what we do? Isn't that how it goes? So, flip flops off and cap and goggles in hand I mosey down to the Lap Lane. A spot generously designated for those of us who arent 16 and under and aspiring to Olympic gold. Swimsuit fitting in all the right places, check, cap covering what it can, check and goggles, my windshield to the underwater world in tact, check. Now, for the dreaded water temperature toe dip. Why I dont just hop in is still a mystery. I ask myself, are you really not going to get in after checking the water? Toes are hanging over the ledge, I shrug and whisper under my breath to the lifeguard occupying a space on the block next to me "shhhhhh, cooler than yesterday"...he smiles politely. I'm such an idiot. And with that I dive right in. It's cool, but nice, never as bad as I really believe it's going to be. A metaphor for life I think. So with that I streamline my way to the surface. And with that the therapy begins. I'm completely alone, with the exception of human child-like speedboats to the lanes beside me. Now, I dont know about you but I love the peacefulness of water. The next hour of laps is filled with everything I usually never have the chance to think about. I love the way the girl in the lane next to me slaps her arm against the top of the water when changing direction, looks just like a whale fin. I wonder why I cant do that too. I try, who knows if I'm doing it right or not, that's the tricky thing about swimming, you cant tell if you're doing it right or not. I think about this, I heart that, how did that thing get on the bottom of the pool, wow look, I see a set of legs, someone else is in my lane, what kinda white noise on the alarm clock am I gonna choose tonight.....and the thoughts go on.