I am massively affected by blood sugar fluctuations (Matt will concur), and now the lack of activity from my injury seems to have the same effect on my mood. Usually, I prefer to avoid altercations, but yesterday I yelled at the front desk girl at the hotel, called a cabby several select and imaginative names, and have just been pissy in general. I desperately need a nice long swim in the pool. The simple act of moving through the water creates a serenity and euphoric happiness that even a stunning pair of stilettos can't seem to bring me these days.
I am still far from being a real swimmer, and any attempts at open water training are in the very distant future. I am thinking of getting a wetsuit and giving the open waters a shot when we go to Florida this December. I have a goal in mind: to stop being deathly afraid of everything in the unknown deep dark depths. Is that seaweed brushing against my toe or a dead body? Maybe a barracuda? I am convinced that death is imminent and panic sets in. My heart beats faster, I lose my breath, and start flailing. Panic attacks are kind of not fun for me, though they probably seem quite amusing to anyone watching from the shore.
So, here is the plan - get in deep and look for floating dead bodies. I think I will be convinced that it's safe only if I find none after looking for two weeks. Unless I do find one. But that's unlikely, right? Right?
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