Friday

You know what I do on Fridays. Yeah, I sleep a little later. Yes, I do drink more coffee. You are right, I hang out with the cats. But that is not what I'm talking about. 

Thank you. Yes, I swim long.

I arrived at the pool around a quarter till noon and no one else was there. No one. I started stroking and right away I knew I was not strong and not ready to kill it. But I kept swimming. Marathon swimmers never "kill it." We survive it. 

First I made 1,000 yards. And then 1,500, a miles and finally 2,000.

Nothing hurt. Nothing was sore. I just wasn't strong, not fresh. My pace-- revealed by glancing at the Garmin on my wrist-- showed I was barely moving. But I kept swimming, and the 2,000 eventually became 3,000.

It takes a long time to swim a long time. After a really long time I had swum 4,000 yards. Then I began the slow climb to 5,000. At 5K, it is tempting to tap out. That is a good swim right there. But with the Senior Olympics and the Chicot Challenge coming up, I was motivated just enough to keep stroking along and doing flip turns.

Finally I hit the big 6,000. At 6,000 I become impressed with the numbers rather than being intimidated by them. Here I begin to pay as much attention to the time as I do the distance. After 6,000, I start swimming down two hours. On this Friday, it only took a couple of hundred over to hit the two hour mark. Then I was chipping away at 7,000.

When I made 7,000, I knew then I was not going to stop short save for some sort of sudden, catastrophic injury. When I hit 8,000 the question was how far to go beyond my 8,200 of last week. I stopped at 8,600 yards. No feeds, not stops for water even. Two hours and forty-five minutes of straight swimming. I have some endurance now. But this is not the end. Heck, I haven't even started swimming the ponds yet.

Thank you, Jesus, for a good day.