Going With The Flow

I take a rest from cycling after my exertions at the weekend. I intend to go for a swim without the usual aching post-cycling legs. I also want to go shopping for cycling clothes at lunchtime.

There are some photos on the Mansfield Tri website. The ones of me look quite fearsome. Looking at the photos, I don't even fancy tangling with myself. L says I don't look as though I was enjoying the view. That's because there wasn’t one, I looked long and hard but could find one.

Seem my triathlons could get a boost from an appropriate source, 'Help the Aged'. L has noticed that their shop has slightly dinted bottles of TAUT, my recovery drink of choice, for only 10p. Presumably second hand.

L is lusting over a huge box of Belgian chocolate covered biscuits that some silly fool has left in their coffee room. I quickly email her to point out that she's too strong to be tempted but I'm too late, the indiscretion has already been committed.

My shopping for cycling clothes yields nothing, so it's back to ordering off the internet. At least I did try and support the local shop.

After work, I head for the pool where I have to share a lane with a male psycho who overtakes me every fourth lengths. Then he starts doing speed training, he speeds up and does it every two.

I look longingly at tranquillity in the next lane, where one of the girls in there redefines breaststroke. It's all breast and no stroke, she barely uses her arms but instead swims by thrusting her chest out. Very impressive. The stroke that is.

I think I've figured out why I swim lopsided. I get a much better pull with my right arm that my left. In fact I never know what to do with my left, if anything it just gets in the way. I reckon I need to try to breathe on both sides and then I might get a good pull on both sides. I think.

L is also heading for the pool but she gets there after I've left. She's not sure whether she's swimming or gyming, says she'll 'go with the flow' as they say. 'Go with the flow', I like the sound of that, will try that one on her later, when I come home after a few pints.

The 'flow' in this case is Daughter. When I get home she's just preparing to leave to meet L at the pool. She looks raring to go. Not. As they say.

I take Doggo out on the park for a ball session. Afterwards he’s so creased that he can barely manage to look fierce to bark my friend off when he comes round. We head off to Pizza Hut for our occasional night out on the cholesterol. Have two bottles of Stella in the restaurant and then two pints of Flowers Original later in the pub, while we get ripped off by the pub quiz machine. He's not drinking much. Unbeknown to me he's just had a sling taken off his arm which he's been wearing for four weeks. He damaged ligaments in his wrist and cracked a rib when out drunk. He kept that quite. I could have given him loads of stick.

I get home to L with even intention of persuading her to 'go with the flow' which she appears willing to do. However it doesn’t happen. Her story is that I fell asleep. I'm sure that couldn't have been the case.