Pool Cues

So today it was lashing rain. While I've never been one to back away from dramatic weather to go for a run, even if I had gone out, it would have been a short run and the amount of rain and leaves and puddles would have made it not worth it for the few miles I would have done. Plus (and this is probably TMI, men, skip ahead) I had two weeks of PMS that finally ended today. Sometimes when I have PMS it just kills my running. I have to stop like, every mile because of rolling cramps and exhaustion. It's AWFUL.

So I went to the pool.

I'm a lousy swimmer.

I can swim to like, not die, but that's pretty much it. I've never been a big fan of putting my face in the water to do the crawlstroke (or is it called freestyle now? nothing to me feels free about it). My breathing gets all wonky. I can't really dive. I feel like I'm too old to take lessons to make me a better swimmer. Maybe I'll get there some day. After all, I come from a long line of swimmers. It's yet another thing I don't understand about my family.

Where was I?

Oh yes. The pool.

So when I go to the pool, I water run.

I'm sure people at the pool probably think I can't swim. Upon arriving (in my bikini from Target, by the way; I still haven't gotten around to getting A Real Swimsuit), I walk over to the flotation belts. I pick out a small and cinch it around my waist. I then walk into the shallow end and bounce out to the deep end, where, for anywhere from 30-60 minutes, I "run" in the deep end of the pool. Or, as Rita, my 76-year old friend who I met at the pool, calls it, "Pedaling in the pool."

And when a 76-year-old woman calls out your pool form, the thought "Maybe I should be a better swimmer" crosses your mind.

Sometimes I mix it up. I do running-type lunges. Or sort of an elliptical/cross-country ski move. I also do intervals: One minute really hard, 15 sec of rest, then another minute really hard. Repeat 5-10 times. This helps the time go by faster. It's something.

Don't laugh. This past March I blew out my hamstring. It's why I missed Boston 2011 (which STILL burns me!). I took to the pool. I pedaled my ass off in the pool. I gradually got back to running, but still used the pool. In July I qualified for Boston.

Days when I'm sore or whatever, I go to the pool. And, sad to say, it helps. I'm sad to say it because I want to be running exclusively, but I can't seem to be able to. I have long, lovely stretches of consistency that are occasionally blown by a Big Deal (e.g., appendicitis).

Obviously my body likes the pool (see: genes), but my brain likes the run.

There are some strange people at the pool. There are strange people at any fitness facility, though. And I'm probably one of the strange people. In fact, I'm sure of it ("that woman in her 30s  who comes in with the bikini who can't swim, right?").

There are the two men who lean on the ledge in the deep end and talk shit about politics for an hour. They don't actually swim. They just talk. It's like Meet the Press: Waterbound.

There is the man, with the pointy beard, who prances in the shallow end with what looks like a harmonica.

There is the TERRIFYING water aerobics teacher, who is a presence and doesn't need to be miked. The few times I've been in there and the class overlaps with my time in the pool is frightening. One time I messed up the schedule and walked in to "USE YOUR NOODLES, LADIES!"