Monday, July 27, 2009
On silence, laps, and why I'm insane.
Forty-five minutes. That's the time between when my alarm when off at 5:23 a.m. this morning and when I actually got around to dragging myself myself out of bed.
It's a quarter of the time between when I sat down at my desk and when I finally got a chance to pop my head up and hunt down my second cup of coffee.
It's also the amount of time I spent swimming laps in the pool this afternoon.
Guess which one flew by?
Now, put on your thinking caps and think about which one was absolutely interminable.
Really, 3/4 of an hour isn't that long of a time _ whether you're sleeping or pounding out laps in the pool.
The problem is that 45 minutes sucks if you're me and you're in a swimming pool bored out of your skull, hoping that the time alone in your head combined with the sensory deprivation and the rhythm of the strokes and the breathing and the flip turns will give you time for deep, existential contemplation.
This was how my deep existential contemplation went:
"1, 2, 3, 4 ... I should really stop counting my strokes. 5, 6... DAMMIT. Hum. Deep thoughts. Deeeeep thoughts. Right. Thoughts. Does anything rhyme with 'thoughts?' Maybe 'Mott's.' Like the juice. Oh jeez, I'm thirsty. Why is it when I'm thirsty and shopping nothing makes me feel more refreshed than chugging some apple juice? Or cider? And, God, cider. Cider Jack. A six pack of that was my college standby. No. No. These are not deep thoughts. Deep thoughts need to be about my career, my friendships, my relationships, my body image, my faith in God, my future, my ... OMG! That dude in the lane next to me should NOT be wearing that Speedo. Banana hammock. Banana hammock. HAMMOCK. MAKE IT GO AWAY."
And so it goes.