My optimistic start time of 06:00 became clouded in uncertainty at about 02:00, staring at the ceiling wishing for sleep. Unfortunately, I forgot to turn off the alarm, so after a few hours kip I was dragged back into consciousness by the sound of iPhone generated crickets.
Note to self: Only real crickets stop chirping when you stomp on them.
I somehow managed to arrive at the pool by 07:30, carrying only my goggles and swim shorts. You see, I had signed up for the Club Lime Platinum package - it offers a veritable suite of exercisey products, a small army of highly trained staff ready to wave palm fronds, and a towel on arrival. Obviously not a membership for the faint of heart, or those unprepared for the rigours of being a VIP.
|"Yo VIP, let's get outta here. Word to ya mother..."|
Yes, that's right - no more smelly, chlorine soaked lumps of fabric to lug around, for there shall be a sprightly young staff member cradling a freshly laundered towel just for me.
But, in her best "Computer says no" voice, Pool Girl informed me that the towels are only for use in the gym. Not wanting to appear uncultured or ignorant, I flashed her a grin, assured her it was no problem, and swaggered off to the change rooms.
Suffice to say the next hour has convinced me to rename this body sculpting jaunt from Adonis to Charybdis(1). Swimming for exercise is less "graceful gliding through water" and more a "semi-controlled state of drowning".
|I see.... broad racial generalisations...|
All eyes turned on me - I couldn't work out if they were judging me on my Caucasian youthfulness, or the fact that I didn't have a towel. One can understand a certain degree of xenophobia towards someone using black magic to dry off...
But, lessons learned - take a towel, don't try and race the people in the next lane, and be careful when riding to work after a swim. Your arms turn to spaghetti, and operating machinery is hard.
Also, regardless of how much I hate the gym and its inhabitants, I must brave the contraptions and judgements lest I end up looking like a swimmer. You know the type - heavy set with no defined edges, as if evolution has taken a "hop skip and a jump" and they're only a few generations off getting dorsal fins back. *shudder*
Must. Not. Become. Fishman.
(1) Charybdis was an evil spirit of the seas and the daughter of Poseidon, the major Greek god of the Seas and Gaea, the goddess of the Earth.
Charybdis and Scylla were living together on either sides of the island of Sicily in Italy, spreading fear among the sailors crossing the island. Charybdis' particular task was to swallow water three times a day and then throw up, creating this way whirlpools in order to drown vessels that passed by.