Saturday, March 23, 2002

My Saturday afternoon was spent at my first-in-a-long-time swim meet and it was just like old the old days. I had to help my small team of seven people take over a lane in the warm-up period; I watched some talented swimmers swim some great times; I played with a stopwatch to see how fast I could start and then stop the watch (0.04 seconds was my fastest); I sat around with a wet towel wrapped 'round my waist and a baggy team t-shirt on and cheered my teammates in their races; my mom and uncle came to watch; I swam three respectable times in my events and Jenn the Coach was impressed with my showing. What a trip.

It seems that I am not alone in my quest for my youthful past. I ran into three old buddies from my swim club days. We all had put on a few pounds (not swimming 30,000 metres a week will do that to you), one of us had lost some hair (I'm not telling who) and we were all glad to see each other. We weren't seventeen any more, but we could still do this.

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