So,
Jarvis, how long you been out of the pool this go around? Ooooh’bout 35 pounds.
Last
summer my masters swim team was forced to find new accommodations after our primary
training pool went down. A few dedicated souls joined me at another pool for
swimmer-lead workouts. Long story short, it did not keep me in shape. A month
after the team reunited, I was out. Out of shape. Out of inspiration. Out of
time for the swim meet season.
It
don't take a $20 co-pay to prescribe a cure for the nasty out-ofs fever. Starve a cold feed a flu, and get lots of rest. "Yes doctor, I concur. A good ole fashion retirement is what this boy needs."
I
retire like KISS or The Who. Always leaving open a return avenue for a
fifth or sixth farewell tour. Liken it to when Miracle Max in Princess
Bride informs Fezzik and Inigo that Wesley was mostly dead; not all dead.
Mostly dead meant he was slightly alive. This how I manage extended periods away
from swimming; mostly retired.
This
past year’s mostly retirement came five months ahead of prior sabbaticals.
Instead of early February, which in the past allowed me to train through the gluttony months,
I threw myself into the oncoming lane of an extended holiday season. Toss in a family
trip to the South for an extra kicker.
October
to January is where permanent weight stakes claim to my body. I stepped away
from the pool, the gym, and healthy eating. (I make bad decisions in threes.)
Back
to work in January… until then, extra frysauce and stretchy paints.
