Freaking eh!

5am came crashing out of my alarm clock like a 2x4 across the R.E.M (and that aint the boys from Athens). It was one of those jump in panic, not because of the alarm clock, but because your brain had not caught on to the fact the eyeballs are sending images but the hamster has not started the wheel yet. I have to imagine my face looked like Non in Superman II when he was trying to use his laser vision for the first time… but I was trying to figure out, “What the freak am I doing up at this hour?”

After realizing my plight, I shook the sleep out of my head and rolled over to found my son camped between us doing a predawn interpretive dance of “Guess Who Has The Most Real Estate On This Bed.” I was so far off the comfort top the drool had missed my pillow completely puddling under the nightstand. My poor wife fared much worse, she had a size 1-T upside her head giving her a little UFC good morning kiss. Fearing a possible beat down on Facebook by Brook’s wife for missing another “first day back in the pool,” the khakis and gazelles went on and I headed out.

Now I’ve swam for over 20 years, and have become accustomed to the walk of shame when reacquainting oneself with a group of chlorine junkies, but this morning was especially fitting since I was hitting the water after an eight month day-off. Only ex-swimmers will appreciate this; long course 100 IMs… I’ll leave it at that.

Now that my lungs are ripe, the back fat is in pain, and my head is full of thoughts of bedtime… I head to the closest chicken palace for grilled yard fowl and cold Lake Mead water.