...And my disease is competition. I could only do so many days in the pool before I started lashing myself and doing my best Michael Phelps.
The gym pool is an amazingly arbitrary 22 meters in length. Every day I claim I'm going to count my laps but inevitably lose interest after six, which I usually complete in 2:10-2:15 amidst a much longer swim. I decided 6 times the length I could concentrate would be nice little foray into abusing myself in the pool.
I swam each -- and for those scoring at home, each 6-lapper equates to 132 meters -- in 1:48 to 1:51. So in other words, meaningless distance and times. I think I figured out my head I could crawl on land faster. I pretty much threw up and passed out simultaneously during the last one though. Fun.
I also made an appointment with PVD blast-from-the-past Peter Sardella for Thursday morning. Luckily for my foot -- and more importantly, my b-school apps -- work is joke right now. I've pretty much been on the beach for two weeks with another week or two of it to come. No complaints there.
Speaking of Rhody, it looked like a great weekend for of action for PVD-related runners at the half-marathon distance with Tarpy, Kim, and Fagan all throwing down.