Monday, 24 May 2010

The lake

I am a very good girlfriend. I don't say this because I think it's true - I say it because I know it's true. This weekend, for the first time this season, I dragged myself out of bed at 6.30am (that's in the morning, by the way) on Sunday to go and supervise OH throwing himself into the outdoor lake for swimming practice. Any of you who know me will know how vile I am in the mornings. I am not pleasant. I have never been an early bird - despite my mother's repeated attempts to highlight to me and my siblings the delights of early mornings, she has never managed to succeed. Now, whenever I go home for the weekend, I sense that she is trying to get her own back - I'm sure it is not right for Lionel Richie's Greatest Hits/School Boy Choir Does Christmas Carols (season dependant) to be blasted out at 7am on a Saturday whilst she puts the washing machine on and does the hoovering. But there we go.

So, as I was saying, I am quite quite hideous in the mornings. OH barely gets a grunt from me as he leaves to catch the early train to work in the week. God forbid that he gets up even earlier for a pre-work run or swim. I have alluded previously to the shrieks of "you're a mentalist" and "if you don't be quiet I'm leaving you" which have been known to escape my lips. They only hint at what a joy I am to be around before the more earthly hour of 9am (I have to be better by the time I get to work, they would sack me otherwise). But, despite all of this, I almost-happily lever myself out of dream land and throw on a hoodie and tracksuit bottoms at this Sunday crazy o'clock in the triathlon season. Why? I hear you ask. Because actually it's rather cool at the lake. I'm always overjoyed that the place is already packed by the time we get there at just gone 7. It's a reminder that there are other loons out there. It appeals to the side of me which is comforted by the fact that some places open 24-7 (this might explain why I quite like the thought of working in a prison, or a hotel on more sane days, don't ask).

There's a shack open which pumps out the tunes whilst serving up bacon butties. The people are very friendly too - you have to hand it to the triathletes for that. This week, after a rather hardcore nose-blowing-hay-fever-induced session I got a nosebleed and some nice triathlon boy asked me if I was ok. Bless. We don't know anyone else there - we're both pretty shy - but this week not only did nosebleed man talk to me, but another guy asked OH about the flex in the shoulder area of his wetsuit. We were very proud. We must look more approachable than I thought we did.

The drill is the same everytime we go. OH jumps in, swims 3 laps, and I time him. As soon as he leaves the first buoy, I head off to the shack for my first cup of tea of the day (it is surprisingly good), back in time to press the 'lap' button on the stop watch as he completes the first circuit. Simples. I must have gotten rusty in the year just gone by though. My timing of the first lap was a little awry - I was not so looking forward to telling OH that he had gotten 3 minutes slower over the course of the last year. However, it transpires that OH had started swimming and then turned back and started again. Of course I was off like a shot to get my tea so completely missed that U-turn. He's actually faster than last year. Thank goodness.

We have a couple of days off work this week for the wedding of some good friends of ours. Guess what we are doing on Thursday morning before we head off to the church rehearsal? Can't wait.

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