This weekend I was in SF Saturday morning and couldn't get to the pool. Instead, I ran across the bridge and gazed at a gorgeous flat Alcatraz route below me. I'm not suicidal, but I admit to having the urge to fling myself over the golden rail and into the current below. To SWIM. Not to die. But speaking of dying, there's nothing like seeing those phones posted along the bridge that say "There is hope. Make the call" to remind you amid a glorious jaunt between sparkling city and rolling headlands that life can really suckit. Maybe that's why we all swim. Life can suckit. But not when you're swimming.
*warmup: 2 x 500's done as 5/1, 4/1, 3/1, 2/1, 1/1 with 1's being backstroke
*3 x 400's done with backstroke every 8, then 4, then 2
*4 x 300's sliding 75 of backstroke
*5 x 25's with 2 done as backstroke
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