Chocolates

With apologies to Forest Gump, my swim workout is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. I guess that is a sappy way of saying I'm an inconsistent swimmer. That said, if I am honest, I am predictably inconsistent. My attitude tends to dictate "what I get."

This morning, I was all set to struggle through a recovery workout resembling nothing so much as the death throes of a harpooned whale. Why? This weekend's efforts on the bike were way out of line. If the uber-greyhound, Maria Gratia's boyfriend, had not been there, this greyhound would have been picked up by animal control. During the workout, the only thing that changed was my attitude.

"Kick drill--Hershey. Hmm. OK. Waaaaa. My quads hurt. Bitter baker's chocolate."

"Double zipper switch drill--blech. cocoanut."

"Double zipper switch drill, other side, come on now. Channel Iron Wil. Wow, pretty good. Milk chocolate with vanilla cream center."

"Tripple zipper switch, Iron Wil don't fail me now. This is getting better."

"1500 yard work set. Turn those sholders, throw that arm forward, blow that air out . . . . "

GODIVA!