Water Sports.

Take 1:

As a triathlete, I occasionally want to get out into the open water that I race in, freeing myself from the black line on the bottom, the endless flip turns, the chlorine, and the lane ropes.  I want to swim in which ever direction I choose and have it feel as if it is going on forever.  So it was that last Saturday  at 5:45 am, I met up with the usual tri-spects to drive out to Foster Lake just East of Sweet Home, OR for a little be-wetsuited frolicking far from the pool.

It was so nice to get into the water, stretch my arms and practice a little sighting.  Ever since my shoulder injury, I have really had to work on swimming in a straight line.  So, even in the rare air of Colorado, I was able to alternate breathe (breathing on both sides of my body, for the non-tri crowd) every third stroke and sight slightly above the water-line on every sixth stroke (my shoulder never did get strong enough to allow me to sight on that side).  And in case you are wondering, I breathe before I sight so that the head motion naturally turns to the side, sweeps in the direction of motion to look and then down back in to the water.  Some people site the opposite way, but I have always felt that it is more important to breather first.  In this way I have saved myself from veering off-course too much and often kept from following wayward feet in an arc around buoys.  Which is why it surprised me when JoeM told me I was all over the place when he was trying to follow me on Sunday.  Qui?  Ah-hah... actually, I had been doing backstroke when he was on my feet, to which he replied "that's why I was looking at the top of your pink toes...." (Doh!)

Take 2:

Rope swing.  'Nough said.  To escape the heat of the valley, a bunch of runner/cycling friends of mine headed toward the Coastal Mountain Range and the Alsea River after work on Monday. I was really proud of myself for having my lab meeting presentation mostly ready to go for Tuesday, so I decided to join.  Having left my phone at home that morning and needing to make some phone calls anyway, I biked home at lunch to get it and figured I might as well pick up my swimsuit while I was at it.  We drove to somewhere around mile marker 28 on the Alsea Highway... and there it was.  A three-inch diameter rope with knots strung up along it's length to the top of a huge tree, two different height platforms for jumping, and a deep pool in the Alsea River below.  The water was chillingly refreshing and the rope swing was amazingly sturdy.  Thanks so much to whomever maintains that thing!  It is awesome.  We played around for about an hour and a half before heading back to town and Monday night festivities.

Next day.. arms and abs hurt like no-other.  I need to get in the weight room again!

Aaaa---yeah!

Reverse backflip trickery!