Community is one of the best parts about swimming. That is, until you are post-partum.
As referenced in the last post, this guy joined us about four months ago:
I got back in the water as soon as they let me. Which I thought was a great idea until I tried to fit into my swim suit.
After squeezing myself in, and realizing that the tiny health club towels no longer fit around my new body (ego boost), I spent about 5 minutes in the locker room trying to figure out the fastest way to get out on deck and in the water without running into anyone I knew and getting stuck in a conversation out in the open in my speedo.
In the end I decided I just had to suck it up and embrace my new winter bod, because it was either that or not swim.
Getting into a bathing suit in public 6 weeks postpartum is a bold move, I know. But it was necessary.
Because today when I was in the pool I realized it is the one place that I actually have time to myself. Seriously. Life has been so chaotic and sleep-deprived the past few months that even when I am sitting in the quiet by myself (generally at 3am with a baby attached to my nipple) I am in a fog. I can’t think. Kind of like being in a dream…and sometimes you actually are in a dream, and then you jerk your head awake and scare the baby and it loses it’s latch and you have to start all over again.
But there is something about exercising, maybe it’s blood flowing to the brain. I don’t know. But suddenly my mind kicks into some sort of gear. For like at least 25 seconds.
And I get ambitious.
By the time I get out of the pool I have, in my mind, on my post-workout high, overcome my fear of sharks, signed up for a channel swim, made a list of 10 blog posts to write, and qualified for the Boston Marathon.
Unfortunately, once I get out of the pool and sit down to do anything about it this happens:
…and then I either fall asleep or spend the rest of the day obsessing about how exhausted I am.
But you have to start somewhere.
Rambulatory Ambulatory 