740pm, the Garmin reads 5.2Km but not sure if that much lap crawling was done this evening.
Might be a glitch or it might not.
Just kept swimming until it got dark and the pool guys were diplomatically rattling their gear to get the point across to the sad sacks still traipsing up and down the salty highway.
Earlier, an Autumn wind swirls through the trees of the domain as the errant swimmer trundles along the path to the ABC pool.Slinking back to the squad for another go after the grand return to swimming of last Spring fizzled out after a month.
Chick on the door had been there twelve hours already and bored half to death.
Says she’s started to reread the novel she couldn’t read before to keep her awake.
The 360 pass still has fifteen swims on it so the briny gates open on another attempted come back.
King Vlad is sitting on a bench by the paddling pool doing paperwork.
Looks up at the long white haired figure with a gear bag looking down at him from the steel landing by the entrance. Looks back down and then up again.
“Hey, where have you been?”
Bonhomie, handshakes and before thirty seconds have passed the first “relax” mantra bubbles up.
No goals this time.
No lofty ambitions.
Just build up the swimming habit again.
Like a swimming version of Trainspotting, back to score another hit of the good stuff from none other but the master, the Vladster, the Lord High Supremo of swim crack himself.
Swimming sobriety is too much.
Cracked under the weight of leaden days at the office and insipid nights sitting in front of screen movies on Netflix and SBS-on-Demand back at the shoebox in Rose Bay. Almost a shareholder in the Confectionary and Ice Cream Freezer sections of the local Coles Supermarket.
Get changed and hand the Vladster a crispy $100 note and a $50 for a bronze pass for the month.
Jump into the slow lane and start swimming.
The rest of the small evening squad file into the two lanes and Vlad’s faithful henchman Martin gives the nod and the sea horses gallop away.
Back of the slow lane is just the job.
Come up behind some of the back markers but the game tonight is no toe tapping, just back off and slow mo it to the end of the lane. Lots of 50s this, 100s that, 200s of the other and a smattering of 400s thrown in for merriment.
Then everyone is gone home and it’s a slow wind down as the daylight fades, the half moon rises and the night closes in.
Celebrate with a Tiger Pie or two down at Harry’s Cafe de Wheels in Wooloomooloo while watching white dots of seagulls goofing around a couple of Navy ships tied to the dock – better than Netflix anytime.