Last night I went to an Aquafit class with a friend. It’s not clear to me whether Aquafit actually sucks, I was having a bad class because I’d never done it before, or if we just had a really bad instructor – but at any rate, it was terrible.
I am leaning toward the bad instructor theory. At one point, a lady working out beside me heaved a great sighing, “Whatever!” She then told me if I wanted to come to a good class to come on Tuesday, Thursday or Friday. Without further ado, she got out of the pool and left.
I looked at my friend who said, “Do you want to go?”
I did, but we just stuck it out. We took the time out to go, so, what the hell. I did rather fuck the dog for the rest of the class though.
The Egyptian had informed me, in advance of the class, that there was “no excuse for either of you to be doing a workout for 80 year olds” and true say, I think I did burn more calories swimming two lengths of the pool before the class started than I did in the ensuing 45 minutes. We might try it again, just so we can say without a shadow of a doubt that Aquafit sucks. Even if we don’t, I’m glad we went because I began to think it was time to revive one of my New Year’s Resolutions from 2009: Go Swimming.
I didn’t go swimming at all in 2009! But that is the beauty of setting goals – you can achieve them whenever you frigging well feel like it. I’m not fussed if they rattle around in my head until I am ready to do them. If it’s within the year, that’s cool, but if it’s ever that’s good too.
Anyway, with “Go Swimming” in mind, I was trying to decide tonight if I should eat an Oreo ice cream sandwich or if I should Go Swimming. Awesome Joolie, a swimming all-star, suggested I go swimming then eat an ice cream sandwich. This approach was, of course, the best one but I was not sold until she said she was going swimming too. Despite the fact that we live in different countries, going swimming with somebody in spirit seemed better than braving it by myself.
So, I walked to the pool. It occurred to me halfway there that I should have cycled – but one scary thing at a time. I’m not a good swimmer and I get bogged down by stupid things like finding the entrance to the rec centre. And once inside the rec centre, finding the pool and who do I give my three bucks to and so on. By the time I managed to do all that I was disappointed because I only had 20 minutes to swim before the pool closed.
Luckily, I could only swim for ten minutes before I thought I was going to die! I suppose I should have known it would be tough considering I haven’t attempted to really swim (although I am a fan of floating on noodles whenever possible) since I was, oh I don’t know, twelve? Thirteen?
I swam back and forth with my ludicrous breaststroke and for two lengths I managed to do a ludicrous front crawl. I felt distressed without my glasses on. I took in an uncomfortable amount of chlorine water. I started wondering if the lifeguard was worried he was going to have to rescue me and if he was mentally laughing at my ridiculous strokes.
When I gave up and the lifeguard said good night to me, I wasn’t feeling very impressed with myself. But by the time I got home I felt amazing! I had been bitten by a new challenge – the little thrill of it, like the one I got when I started running a couple years ago.
Google tells me that my measly 10 minutes of breaststroke burns 273 calories for someone of my weight, which isn’t all that bad for my first night out and totally justifies the 250 calorie Oreo ice cream sandwich I ate in celebration of my victory. Good thinkin’, Awesome Joolie.