Monday

I was asleep, deep asleep when Penny shook me awake with, "You need to move your truck so I can go to work." I had a hard time putting on pants. I kept sticking two legs into one pant. You've heard the old saying, "They put their pants on just like us: one leg at a time." I've never done it that way. For me, it was always two legs at a time. Anything else is a waste of time.

So I went out in the rain, still mostly asleep, moved the truck and came back in and ate breakfast. I also drank coffee, and settled in for some blogging, some school work, and some YouTubing. What happened to the 3:30 a.m. swim you ask? John is under the weather so I am doing it my way. I went to the pool at 1:30. P.M. 

A brainstorm hit. Since I tapped on my last long swim attempt, do it today. So I tried. I felt the pec somewhere around 6,000. It went away, the discomfort; however, the mentally brick it threw into my thought machinery didn't disappear. I stopped at 7,000. Better sorry than safe as they say.

My pace was slow, 1:55. The swim last 2:14:53. That is three feedings at Chicot. It was a good swim, an endurance one. I have the rest of the week to do it my way. Actually, I don't know how long I have. I need to check on John. I have prayed for him.

It was raining when I left the pool. It rained all day. So I resigned myself to the rest of the day doing nothing. No weights. No running. No walking. No cycling. Just rest. Thank you, Jesus, for good rest.