Quatchi gets chicked

I've been swimming about 2-3 days a week in addition to my usual 5 day/week run schedule. I HATE to lift weights, so I figured swimming covered my upper body strength training, a little bit of core work, and fed my unending need for endurance endorphins. Plus, it's something I know how to do. I spent more of my life in water than on land for the first 20+ years of my life as a competitive swimmer, water polo player, and (gasp!) a synchronized swimmer.*

Yes, yes, feel free to laugh hysterically now. I'll wait.........

.....done yet? No? Okay, take your time..............

Okay, now that you've sufficiently recovered...

So after years of green hair, wearing drag suits that made me look like I got mauled by a bear, having the shoulders of a linebacker (my speciality was the 100 fly), dealing with hand cramps from unending bouts of jazz hands, and watching my skin dry out like a prune, I hung up my fins and traded them in for a pair of Asics.

Happily ensconced in the running groove, I managed to cut out all other activity. This brain trust move netted me a laundry list of injuries and very impressive set of incredible hulk legs **. Seeing the error of my ways, I've re-integrated swimming back into my routine.

Which brings me to my story from yesterday's trip to the Y.*** For several weeks now, I have found myself swimming with the same group of people. We don't talk much. Swimmers aren't as chatty and friendly as runners. It must be the whole I-may-drown-myself-if-I-open-my-mouth-to-speak thing....details. One particular guy and I always manage to end up having to share a lane. Swimming laps in public is a lot like carpooling with a stranger, only with a lot less clothing. There will never be a situation where you will voluntarily dress in clothing that resembles underwear and get close enough to a person to see their back hair (hopefully males only)in public and it be "normal."**** So, yesterday evening Sasquatch and I were destined to share a lane...again. However, we had the added bonus of two other strapping (albeit less hairy) young lads in the lane next to us. Now, I had already run early that morning and put in a full day's work, so I was pretty wiped out, but I couldn't resist trying to keep up with the boys. Nitmos and Vanilla seem to have a fascination with getting "chicked" while running...well, I was on a one-chick mission to not get "Sasquatched.*****" I quickly realized after literally eating their wake and feeling like, "Yes, now I know what it must feel like to do an open water
swim in a triathlon," I wasn't going to chick them on sheer speed. I then proceeded to puff myself up and did whatever any self-respecting marathon runner would do...I chicked them on distance. Sure, any Yeti can swim fast and "harass humans traveling through a forest"******, but can those giant man beasts go the distance? So, who prevailed in the battle of Quatchi versus TheBets?

....Yup, you guessed it, Quatchi got chicked. He tuckered out every couple laps, trying to impress me with his speediness, but *yawn* I wasn't impressed. It takes a lot to impress a green tinted, giant calved, purple short donning, jazzy handed, endurance freak. Better men have tried...and failed. We shall meet again on Friday, O'Hairy One. Maybe we should start carpooling....


*None of these pictures are of me, of course. I have long retired my sequins and matchie matchie swim suits.
**Now try to get the mental picture of a green-skinned, purple short clad monster doing jazz hands out of your mind.
***No, as far as I know I did not have a run in with Hot Dad.
****Unless, of course, you are a stripper. Side note to my side note...I was in a computer training today for a reading program for my students. One of the reading prompts asked them to identify the sight words "lap" "cash" "pole" and "dancing." I about fell out of my chair. REALLY??? Awww...come on! REALLY??? I can't make this stuff up. Either my computer had a dirty, dirty mind or their random word selector has a pervy virus.
*****If you guys can have your own made-up word for getting trounced by a girl, we can have one for when we are beat by hairy beasts.
******Seriously, who knew Teddy Roosevelt wrote a book about the territorial habits of Sasquatches? Ahhh...gotta love this great country.