babble, exercise, fitness, hamilton water palace, music, swimming

In Which I’m Going To Quote Jesse McCartney Once More

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© cbckchristine (Used with… permission? I purchased the M size on Fotolia.)

I would like to kiss whoever designed waterproof MP3 players. I’ve been saying for ages and ages that I was going to buy a waterproof MP3 player, and I finally did. Just a cheap one, but it does its job: it stays on, and it works underwater. It blocks out the noise from the pool, and I can listen to music while I’m swimming.

The first time that I went swimming, I managed to do about 16 lengths (a quarter mile) but it took me the best part of an hour and a half, because I was bored out of my mind, and just dawdling along, basically. It also didn’t help that I did two lengths (up and back and up and back) and stopped for a minute or two.

With my music on, the only thing that was a cause for stopping was IDIOTS GETTING IN MY WAY AND SWIMMING IN MY LANE, and the even bigger idiots who were swimming ACROSS THE POOL, instead of up and down.

(Like, seriously. At the time of night I go, there are two lanes for “swimmers”: those people who are fit enough to just keep swimming and not stop, or who are members of a club or whatever. It means that two lanes are blocked off; the breadth of the pool is not complete. And there are still people who insist on swimming across the pool, despite it not being a full breadth. And they do it, despite everyone else swimming lengths.)

So, on Monday night, I managed to swim 32 lengths – a half mile – in less than an hour.

Of course, then I wasted all the calories I’d burned by ordering a Chinese at the Chinese up the road on JustEat when I got out, because I was bloody starving. What I didn’t know was that the Subway in the supermarket’s still open at that time, so if I need/want food after my swim from now on, I’ll go and get a SANDWICH. It’ll be cheaper and healthier.

But it’s good. Swimming and music. I maintain that I’m part fish from growing up where I did. Greenock had a really good swimming pool (it was called the Hector McNeill; it had a TWELVE FOOT DEEP END. I never got brave enough to learn how to dive, though. I STILL can’t dive. Maybe I’ll learn, soon.) and I was always down there, whenever we could when I was younger. It helped that our primary schools had a scheme where, when you were (I think) ten years old, they took you to the pool once a week to teach you to swim. It’s still wonderfully freeing, floating and being supported. Adding music to that’s an added bonus.

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