Swimming

Wake up. Put swimsuit on. Brush teeth. Pack bag. Drive to school. Swim swim swim. Shower. Bike home. Sleep. Eat. Read. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

For the past two months, I've been swimming. Every morning before the sun rises, I'm out of bed and on my way to school for swim practice. My routine is so normal to me now that I no longer think about it; I just do it.

And all of the swimming has paid off. I've dropped a few seconds in my races and I feel stronger, and I even feel like I have a shot at being varsity this year. Other days I feel weaker than watered-down soy sauce in a Caucasian-run Chinese restaurant.

For the past hour, I've been compiling workouts for the week-and-a-half between the off-season and swim season. The fitness nut in me chooses the longer workouts and as I look at them on my computer screen, the black print against the white of a Google Doc, the doubter in me wonders why I'm even trying to kill myself with such strenuous activity. Just take a break, my conscience says suavely. No one will even know you didn't do that last set... it goads.

No. You can do it. Stop trying to sell yourself short, the fitness-nut version of myself retorts.

Just keep swimmin'