I almost talked myself out of swimming after work. Not so much because I was tired, but just…well, just because. Today was plenty busy, but just wasn’t one of my more accomplished days. The few conversations I had were short, and as I headed home, I just didn’t feel especially sunny.
Although I almost just went home, I knew I wouldn’t be sorry if I swam. So I schlepped myself into the locker room, changed into my swimsuit, windmilled my arms first forward and then backward to warm up, did a few squats, and started off. I had a distance in mind — three-quarters of a mile, which is 54 lengths — but decided I’d be fine with 48, or with 20 minutes.
So off I went, alternating six lengths of freestyle and six of just using my arms. Along about length No. 24, I thought, “Hm. Maybe I’ll go a little farther.” I kept going, and when I got to 58, thought, “I could make it a mile.” I felt strong and knew I could do it, maybe even faster than I have lately.
But I just went two more. I’ve had plenty of times when I went longer than I had planned. So this time, I didn’t. I didn’t stop at Central Market afterward either. I just came home, mopped the floor (which probably gives me more satisfaction than it should), ate the pita chips I need to eat fewer of, and am now reheating the soup I made Sunday night.
For soup, for satisfaction, for stopping because I’d already swum far enough, The Grateful Runner says thank you.