11 August 2016
I’m only five days into this challenge, and I already want it to end. 1000 words, what exactly do you write about when really much doesn’t happen in your everyday life? I’m sure as hell am not writing about work, because if this ends up being put on my blog, I’d have to go through and do all the [Redacted] and [Place] name swapping stuff. Plus there’s the whole writing about monotony thing.
I did my podcast right before writing this. I even talked about exactly what the challenge is going to entail. To be honest, I really don’t know why I keep up with the podcast. Barely anyone listens (though there’s been an uptick on Soundcloud for some unknown reason). To me it seems is that I’ve hit a rut with the podcast, a similar one I hit with my blog. The honeymoon’s over and now I have to either pack it in or try to find something that I can talk about on a weekly basis that’ll have me looking forward to doing it.
Previous to all of this, I went to go work out for a short while down in my apartment complex’s fitness center. I wanted to do a quick arm routine and be done with it, since I had to bang out the podcast and also type 1000 words. All was well and good. Did 3 sets of 8 alternating bicep curls. Then 3 sets of 8 double hand behind the head triceps raises. Both of those went fine, until I switched over to do concentration curls. I felt a tightening twinge in my lower back by my left hip. After muttering “Cazzo” to myself, I finished up wincing a little bit when I had to bend over to move the bench back. Cursing under my breath, I cleaned to bench off, had a sip of water and went outside for a walk.
It was still hot out. Even with the sun behind some clouds, I felt the sweat spring to the surface of my skin after a few steps outside. While I could’ve just walked 3 loops to get to a mile and a half, I figured I just do a short walk the length of the sidewalk that runs along the street. I started at the dead end and went until the sidewalk ran out, maybe 5-10 meters from the next apartment complex’s driveway. I turned and did a few of the “loosening” leg rotations I did when I ran track. They look extremely odd to the observer, and I was hoping that my hip would pop when I did it. No joy.
After walking about a third of the length back to the dead end, I had the “smart” idea to jog the rest of the way. My back protested, and my unstretched legs had the flexibility of two lead pipes. Glad I wasn’t trying to run 1.6 km today.
This pull/tweak better not get worse, though I do have a massage next Friday. If I’m careful and put on Biofreeze and take some Tylenol, this should go away shortly.
Anyways, I walked back to my apartment and changed into my swimsuit. After putting on my flip-flops and tanktop, I folded up my towel and left to go swim. I needed to cool off. Mentally, I wondered if I’d be able to recline on the chair for a period of time and not make that injury worse. As long as I didn’t do any sudden trunk-twists, I should be fine.
I got to the pool, letting myself in through the gate, noticing the (visiting?) family swimming in the pool. I didn’t pay them mind as I spread my towel on one of the lounge chairs and put my flip-flops, keys, tanktop, and Kindle underneath it. Getting in the water wasn’t even that much of a shock. The air and the water temperatures must have been damn near close. I still remember those times growing up where our pool was colder that the air, and that first “shock to the system” was the toughest.
I walked down the steps in the water, holding my hands on the front of my hips to keep my swimsuit from billowing out with trapped air. Noticing that I wasn’t going to mentally gasp when I dove underneath the surface, I slightly squatted and pushed off the bottom, allowing me to dive and giving me enough momentum to easily swim underwater to the deeper part of the pool.
The water seemed cloudy to me, probably from the dirt the family stirred – and was stirring – up. My eyes did sting a little bit, so there was the possibility that whoever serviced the pool added some chlorine tablets to the chlorinator. Either way, a few unrushed and lazy kicks later, I arched my back and quietly surfaced by the ladder in the deep part of the pool.
It’s funny that I still try to surface quietly after swimming underwater, even after all these years. Too many summers of playing “Marco Polo” taught my brothers and myself the prudence of quietly surfacing, so as not to get caught. Previously, I’d shoot up out of the water – normally because I was out of breath – making a whole lot of noise from the splash from the breech. After getting caught way too many times, I got in the habit of surfacing slowly. Old habits die hard.
After returning to the steps to sit for a while, and to stretch my lower back a bit, I did a full lap underwater (two lengths) and walked out of the zero-entry part of the pool towards my chair and towel. At this point the sun was behind a cloud and having things to do, I pulled my towel off to start drying myself.
Since I hate water dripping down my legs when I walk in sandals, I wrapped my towel about my waist sarong-style and sat down the deck chair to read a few pages of James Clavell’s Tai-Pan. I’ve read this book many times already, and since he’s such a good writer, I can enjoy it each time I read one of his novels. Most likely I’ll be re-reading Shogun next.