I haven't bought a pair of goggles and a swim cap in years. Actually, make that, never. Growing up in the 80s, my family had an assortment of swimming paraphernalia to satisfy every kind of water baby: from the serious and not-so-serious adult lap swimmers, down to the languid loungers (us kids).
I did attend swimming lessons one summer. But being a sickly child with multiple bouts of tonsilitis throughout the year, my swimming 'career'—for lack of a better term—never really took off and ended way before I could stop gasping for air during the Freestyle. Maybe that also explains why the only strokes I am confident doing are the Breast and Back stroke. The Butterfly at this point is only a figment of my imagination.
But after recently signing up at the YMCA, I figured, why not swim again? At the sporting goods store last weekend, I had some sort of epiphany: I do like sports, I've done my share of them (martial arts, running, biking, rockclimbing)—but not seriously enough to unearth a competitive drive (or edge) found in successful athletes.
Looking back, when I was doing Taekwondo, I enjoyed the training sessions but hated the competitions. Back in climbing, I loved the daily trips to the gym and weekend climbs out of town, but again, hated competing. As for running, well, let's just say I dread the thought of training for a marathon.
I just want to enjoy these activities without feeling the pressure of having to win something. Or beating a certain time, reaching a certain rank. I revel in the quiet pursuit of that first drop of sweat, first ache of muscle, without having anybody gauge (or watch) how I go about finding my way back to fitness.
A stained-glass-adorned ceiling that supposedly costs millions of dollars.
"When I grow up, my house will have huge fountains of dark and white chocolate."
"The only seafood buffet in Las Vegas," according to the Rio poster.
The dancing water show. (I need the correct name.)
It was nice how they lit the ceiling to make it look like daytime, anytime.
"Shining, shimmering, splendid..."
Lakers vs. Sacramento. Please don't ask me about basketball.
Week 2 of freelancing and surprisingly I’m… having fun. After give or take two or three weeks of being paralyzed by fear, wanting to sleep all day, and getting my new ‘office’ in order (Staples and cables now in place), I am now settling into a workable routine. One good hair day at a time.
What used to be a morning dilemma of what fabulous outfit to start the week right (along with subway-friendly heels that are high enough to make me reach the stainless steel bars yet comfy enough to keep bunions a distant future concern) has become a happy ritual of donning my new apple red apron from Crate and Barrel. True, I miss the beautiful cafeteria at my former office, but right now I’m amazed at how I’m NOT spending at all. And my finances—though skeletal at the moment—are developing the backbone needed for a stable, disciplined, money-smart future. It’s true when you’re slapped with an unexpected lesson, you learn hard—and fast.
