Yesterday I finally managed to drag my chocolate and cheese riddled post-Christmas body into a swimming pool.
I'd promised myself to start going 3 times a week in 2012 and signed up shortly before the holidays in a bid to begin the New Year with a fresh start.
Upon entering the water and taking the first few strokes, it was pretty clear that my festive gluttony had morphed itself into the shape of two lead weights tied to my ankles and that despite looking the part I clearly sucked at acting it.
I used to be an accomplished swimmer. After having major surgery to correct the alignment of my right hip in 2009, I had six months of physio in the gym and pool. Having slowly weaned myself off crutches and gained the confidence to exercise again, I was happy to hear my physiotherapist, an accomplished sports professional, inform me that I was most certainly born a fish, not a land animal.
In the latter stages of my therapy, a guy in the pool asked if I was training for a competition. Back then, I found it quite hilarious - in my mind, I was still recovering from having my pelvis broken and re-pinned in three places. The thought of it now has me guffawing with laughter. I'm so out of condition and have really neglected myself in two and a bit years of changing times, new work challenges and of course, a brilliant list of excuses.
Back to yesterday.
After getting going with my stroke it was apparent I was in the wrong lane for my ability when the lady behind me tickled my toes. She was tailing me impatiently. I did a few more lengths and admitted defeat. In the next lane down I joined what can only be described as a traffic jam of hugely uncoordinated leisure swimmers, evidently all at alarmingly different levels in their swimming ability.
It's a rubbish predicament to be in: too slow for the fast lane, too fast for the medium lane.
As I got kicked in the head for the second time by a blobby man paddling along in a pair of Hawaiian shorts, the reality of it all set in. I'd need to get fit enough to get back in the fast lane, pronto. Reaching the end of the pool, feeling like a whale sliding through treacle, I realised I needed a far greater strategy than my own merry '3 times a week' promise.
Last week I was chatting to two Twitter friends, Michelle @shellmoby and Zoe @Splodz who have both set themselves individual challenges for 2012. I'm never been overly competitive but digesting the grim reality of my ability yesterday spurred me to consider a challenge for myself.
The idea of having a sporting goal in our Olympic year is appealing. I haven't set myself a challenge since I did the Race for Life about six years ago - and even then I couldn't actually run because of my creaky hip.
Anyhow. After a few tweeted discussions the girls came up with the idea for me to swim 2,012 lengths of the pool before the Olympics start as my #2012in2012 challenge, based on the concept from the Gold Challenge as referenced on Zoe's blog.
We've calculated this to be around 70 lengths per week. When I was fighting fit I probably managed 50 lengths in one session - those sessions being between 20 and 30 minutes depending on my energy levels. That's always been my preferable workout - I'd rather power swim for half an hour than cruise along for an eternity and turn myself into a shrivelled prune.
However due to the fact I am about six months away from being anywhere near fit, let alone ready for any fighting - and have absolutely no idea how many lengths I did yesterday because of all the lane rage, crashing, kicking and shouldering going on - I thought this seemed like a good number to aim for.
Perhaps when I've regained a comfortable level of fitness I can top up with an additional challenge - but for now, this is how it's going to roll.
So, there you have it.
I'm going to swim 70 lengths every week until the start of the 2012 Olympics this summer.
Wish me luck!
