School is finally out, for a little while, and not a moment too soon. For the next couple of weeks, I will train like I'm trying to kill myself. That's what it takes. The goal this year is to swim 21 miles, the distance of an English Channel crossing. Those kinds of distances are not to be taken lightly. I've had a pretty good week, hitting a three-hour pool swim Monday, a couple of shorter but intense swims that seemed to help my subsequent swims. Friday I went to the pond and swam not as long as I wanted to or needed, but I Friday is date night with my wife and I had to work Friday morning. Thus, I swam as long as I thought I could and still be good company with my wife.
Monday morning, however, I go wild. "Swimmer gone wild" is the theme for the next two training cycles, and then I start the taper. After that is event week. I'm both excited and nervous. The crew has changed a lot. I plan to try to practice with one of the new kayakers. Also, Danielle wants to get together for a swim. From what she told me, Lake Chicot is still muddy and that bothers her a bit. I have never seen the lake look anything but pristine. Maybe it will clear.
My body feels sound. Last year, I fell twice and tweeked one of my shoulders. I have purposely avoided the Yazoo River Trail to avoid another such catastrophe. With each swim I feel a little more sound and a little more fit. I need to make some dig jumps in the upcoming fourteen days. It can happen. It will happen.
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