Fire Up (or Cool Down?) For a New Season

Spring has sprung, and this old man's fancy turns to desire for the cool embrace of our Lady of the Lake. Cross country ski season is done, so I'm back in the pool, where I ran into Cap'n, who I haven't seen in months. He was standing in the shower, wearing some strange contraption around his waist, which I suspect was a chastity belt, though he denied it. We agreed that the pool is great, but we can't wait until we can get in the lake again.

Spring is the season of new beginnings, so we zero out the Killipitsch swim counters and set new goals. It will be difficult to beat last season's record number of swims (162), but try we must.

In the spirit of the season I forgive all sins and therefore the swim names of Tyrant, Hook, Diablo and Dewdrop, revert to Patriarch, Cap'n, Gabriel, and Gumdrop.

Before we begin though, we need to settle the issue of what counts as a "swim". Our old rule was that it had to be at least 400 meters to count. But that wouldn't count all those short fast cold water swims undertaken by Cap'n, Gabriel, and Gumdrop (not me, I think it's nuts to spend all that time getting ready, driving to the beach, freezing near to death, and then drive home, all to swim for thirty seconds, but I guess boys will be boys).

Maybe we need a new category to count these extremely cold, extremely short swims. Perhaps we could call them Cold Cox swims in honor of our heroine Lynne Cox, famous cold water swimmer and author of "Swimming to Antarctica" and other books and articles.

Sophomoric humor aside, it shouldn't be long before we're in the drink again, although I swear I'm not swimming until it's at least 55, I don't care what you guys call me.