Oh how I mourn when February comes to an end. I treasure those early morning drives to the pool during that wintery four week period--drives during which I can rest assured that my bare and freezing toes will not brave the elements only reach the pool's edge and be told the workout consists of a flurry of 25 yard Breaststroke sprints (or anything less than pure unadulterated LONG FREESTYLE). Of course, I might be less aggrieved to see the month end if I had significantly stepped up the hours I spent in the pool. I might have even come to dread my next swim (egads, could that ever happen to me ?). But, unlike some of you (commendable) nutsos, I swam well below 100,000 yards for the month. (Around 65,000 to be generally exact.) I'd like to say this is all part of my Master Smartplan to prevent burnout and reach optimal fitness, but truly I just couldn't get any more time off from my two kiddos and one kid-husband to spend at the pool. Perhaps if I hadn't taken the kids ...
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