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Halloween/Swim Meet #2

No Halloween photos. (Sorry, Becca.) When costumes are marked down 50 percent, there's a reason. In this case, we would've looked like Star Trek pop tents. While my stepmom graciously offered to alter them, it just felt like too much effort. So the party on Saturday was skipped.

We did, however, attend a Harry Potter party on Sunday. BF picked up lovely matching capes at CVS and a witch hat for me. Hmmm. What does that mean? Oh well. We made cauldron cakes (look it up if you're not a HP fan) and joined in the festivities, even though I'm probably the last person on the planet who hasn't read a HP book.

Five days until the swim meet. I've upped my swims from 2x to 4x per week. It's amazing how the fear of embarrassment is incredibly motivating. I was feeling pretty good about myself after this morning's workout. Then I checked the master's national qualifying times and my ego deflated. A 2:36.60 for the 200 IM. Uh, right. Or maybe a 32.07 for the 50 fly. Yes, this is short course yards, but still, I'm a month shy of 38. For pete's sake, when do the times start dropping off?

One thing I've noticed is when I start to feel like an athlete again, my body lets me know those days are gone. I'm like Shaq pimping the Icy Hot. (Except I don't make $20 million a commercial.) There's that brief moment of victory - "I'm a swimmer!" Followed by "I'm a swimmer with a snapping shoulder, tight hamstring and some sort of weird groin pull." Maybe Shaq can send me a complimentary Icy Hot patch. It seems to work for him.



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