Thumper Thinks Out Loud

You know, I still enjoy swimming; it could be because it’s the first post-FMS exercise that I was able to fully manage. In the pool nothing really hurts, and there’s that ego thing of being able to work out for a full hour without curling up on the floor in one massive I-want-my-mommy ball.

Even though I’m doing other things now—an awesome Boot Camp class that makes the old TKD classes seem easy, and a cardio/weight training class—I still like to get in the pool and swim. The cardio/weight class doesn’t tend to seem like enough (it’s just not as intensive as the Boot Camp class…that’s not necessarily a bad thing) so I swim afterwards and try to get to the point where I feel like I have had enough.

That only takes about half an hour, but it’s something.

So yesterday I jumped into the pool (ok, I sat at the side and kind of slid in) and started my laps. The water was warm, I was feeling really good, and it didn’t feel like I was working too hard.

That’s not a good thing.

When I feel like I’m not working too hard, my attention tends to wander. So I noticed the older guy who got into the lane next to me. Honestly, I couldn’t help but notice. Without trying to be unkind…well, first off, I have to give props to the guy for being there. He was running the lane at a pretty good clip, a heck of a lot faster than I was ever able to run in water.

But…

The guy had one heck of a beer belly, and he was wearing a pair of fairly loose-fitting Speedo type swim trunks.

Every time he was running my direction, all I could see was that stomach and his junk bouncing up and down.

I tried not to look, really.

I lowered my face further, but the only that did was fill my snorkel with water.<

It was like a wreck at the side of the road; you can’t help but slow down to see how bad the damage is.

Rather than stare at the guy—that’s just too creepy, and I don’t want to be that creepy lady at the Y—I figured it was time to get out of the pool. So I finished my lap, popped my head out of the water, and dammit.

The old folks’ water aerobics class was in session, and I came up just in time to hear the freaking Chicken Dance.<

Freaking.
Chicken.
Dance.

That had to be God’s way of punishing me for noticing the old guy’s flapping nads. Either that, or God just has a warped sense of humor. At least the song didn’t get stuck in my head.

This time.

And shut up.
You don’t need to type out the beat of that nasty, nasty song for me.
I won’t look, I swear.

Oh yeah, and on a different note, Happy Birthday, Unca Willie!