Today I am going to go buy some goggles. I am going to start swimming in the mornings. I am not sure if the pool can handle me and my sexy body every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. They may have to beef up the security because people will wnat my autograph. Not only am I an amazing swimmer, but I am so HOT in a bathing suit and all. I figure if I go at 6AM, the only other people there will be geriatrics, so they won’t notice my rotundity anyway. If they do, they may become enflamed with jealousy and start a riot in Ball Pool. That would be cool.

I am going to start swimming again because it gives me an hour of unadulterated thinking time. There is nothing but the quiet of the water, the splash of the wake, and the peace of regulated breathing. My high school boyfriend once asked me how I was so nice all the time. I ask myself that now. How was I? As I look back, swimming was the key. I started every morning with meditation. Sure morning practices were gruelling, and sure the coach was driving and behaved much like a slave master as I waited every morning for him to bring a whip to workouts , but the basic premises of swimming are regulated breathing, concentration on bodily positioning, and silence—moving yoga in the water. I am trying my to find myself again and for so long I was defined by what I did every morning in the water, maybe that is a piece of who I lost. Maybe I would be nicer if I begin three days a week with mobile, water covered yoga. We’ll see.

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