The road to hell...

I occasionally get these great ideas late in the evening, that I can go swimming in the morning. While I look out my window at the frozen world outside, I imagine how warm and relaxing the pool will be and get really excited about the prospect of spending an hour splashing around in it. And how gracious and strong I'll look in my swimsuit.

Then the morning comes, I hear J's alarm, open my eyes and see nothing because it's still so bloody dark, and -the strangest thing!- remember all those things about swimming pools that I hate. All the people. The kicks in the face. The burning sensation of chlorinated water in my nose. And the knowledge that someone always pees in the pool. Bleh.

So, despite my good intentions last night, there was no swimming this morning. Instead, I did some strength exercises: core, legs and the upper side of my body, that is so tragically weak that, were it any weaker, it'd be needing a wheelchair.

I hear swimming is good for that?