The Athleast

We're signed up for the gym now. Katie and I headed up to Eldersburg to check it out for real. We played a little roundball. The kid's tough. She outshoots me from about anyplace. It wasn't long before she lost interest and suggested we go swimming.

I like swimming. I don't have to support my own weight. I float really well. And if I decide to move my arms and my legs, I don't realize the effort of doing so has caused me to sweat. That is, I don't realize it until I get out and it takes me extra long to dry off.

There's so much more to do. All the contraptions for isolating muscles remain to be tried. My muscles like to work together. Separating any one of them causes the rest undue anxiety. There's also the sauna and steam room. Sort of the opposite of the swimming pool, if you ask me. Whereas in the water you can try to breathe, but it's not advisable, in either the sauna or the steam room you can try to breathe--in fact, it is advised--but they don't make it easy.

So many challenges, so little inclination. I need one of those personal trainers. I had one before. Along with 49 of my closest friends I called him by name. I think he was a knight of some sort. We all called him Sir Yessir. Yup. That's what I need. But he'd better be careful. The pool and the steam room will wreak havoc with that felt Smokey Bear hat.