From Yesterday’s Lake Harriet 1 & 2 Mile Swim and Double Baby 1 Year Birthday Bash 🎉🏊‍♂️

 

The race this morning was too chaotic. My friend John, who is entered in my phone as co-op John because I met him at the Seward Co-op and I don’t know his last name says that organized races are full of shit. He is referring to running races. I asked him if he wanted to jump in a few this summer. 5k here, half marathon there. He said organized races miss the point. Don’t have the spiritual element.


Now I get it. I feel the same way about swimming races. All the thrashing all the jockeying all the torquing neck forward searching for the buoy. All the hurry. All the unnecessary movement. All the rush. All the time keeping. All the noise. All the people.


But but but when you’re in there by yourself and 529AM and it’s early early early. Like a church. God speaks and you have no choice but to listen.


My knee was bothering this morning doing freestyle. The rotation of turning doing freestyle hips moving up-and-down ahhhhh fuck added lateral pressure to the inside of my foot. I think I tore my MCL somehow playing soccer maybe overuse maybe just whoops. I think I can fix it. I YouTubed a bunch of exercises. Kate suggested doctor visit to analyze and evaluate for surgery and I said I don’t know but I’ll look into it. Which means I’ll look into a DIY solution. And I looked into it. I think surgery is a last resort. I think Americans go to surgery like Americans go to divorce. Because we like things that are fast. We like sharp edge solutions instead of the long slow road of shallow squats. No more than 60°. Lay flat on the floor. Lift the whole leg. Lower. Repeat. Rotate onto outer hip. Lift lower repeat. Inner leg. Ride a stationary bike. Lie on your back and do the stationary bike but with your legs. Do it forward and backwards. Churn the blood flow. Massage knees. Do circles. Stretch your hamstrings. Be sure to do quads. Balance on weak leg.


Imagine this as the analogy for a troubled relationship. Do that. All that work and maintenance and PT. It’s methodical and it’s meditative. Slow.


I just got in the car. Driving back home tonight alone. Kate is following behind in her sisters car. I don’t have the radio on. I don’t have a podcast on. It is just me and the quiet Saturday night Road. There’s a bunch or two bunches or 10 bananas on the dash yellow spotted with brown. The passenger seat is filled with the diaper bag my swimsuits towels change of clothes miscellaneous bag of extra shit because why not.


My sisters baby Dori and Ellie Roo celebrated their first birthday today late for Dori early for Elle. My dad and Laura splurged for Greek food from falafel King. And bagpipes. I love the hummus. Siri autocorrected homeless. And Bubba ganush. And tzaziki. And lamb. And falafel. Damn Greeks kill food.


Two full plates. My stomach is full.


I really can’t say enough about family. I have a mouth full of shit to say about the state of economy and the way it makes millennial‘s feel fragile disconnected untethered broken worthless and useless. I think one of the antidote his family. It’s a horticultural greenhouse for root building.


My dad his wife my sisters my wife my wife’s family her mom and her dad her sister and brother my dad‘s wife his children their friends our friends and all comes together and melts the different relationships and the different qualities of the experiences over lap and I think everyone’s going with like yeah with her psycho bullshit and they just want to live that make sense of them but if you boil it down comes to a four letter word that sticks to the bottom of the pot and doesn’t burn it all the better how much you turn up the heat for a little word is love.


Everybody was crying tonight out of joy and happiness except for me and the bagpipe player and they asked me why I wasnt, and I said that I’m crying on the inside.


I swam the 1 mile race with a wetsuit and placed top 10. I’m not sure how high up or low down exactly because they didn’t post results online or after the race. Because I was feeling good in the wetsuit I took it off like everyone else for the 2 mile and froze a slow death. Everybody else was doing it. Bad logic right. So I thought I could do it. But everybody else is doing is terrible logic. Of the four laps that made up the 2 mile course, by the end of the first one the jaw was rattling my teeth like marbles in a glass jar, by the end of the second my eyes were closing on their own and it wasn’t because of this wicked off water glare from the sun, and by the third and fourth I was hanging on to threads cursing myself and the lake. I told myself if you keep thrashing you’ll make it. Thrash. Thrash. Thrash.


I need to work on my endurance.But the thing is I don’t swim to work on anything. I swim just to swim. That’s the thing. I run for time and I run for competition I run to beat people and I run to win and I run to improve on myself and previous times of previous races. But I passed that swimming, it burned out of me from years of club swimming in middle school and then high school and then a year of college before I dropped out. Now I swim just to swim just to cut through the water just to feel the pull between my fingers just the challenge of waking up early in the morning and sinking in.


I guess I’ll sleep well tonight. People have been talking about how it’s difficult to get a good nights sleep. Minds are wired. My sister says try this magnesium thing. I think I will. I didn’t sleep well last night. I woke up at 3:30. Kate too. She was on the couch. Phone a glow with Phone. My dad said he didn’t sleep well because Laura was coughing. Maybe I will sleep well tonight. Maybe not. Either way I’m grateful for a good day.


I know this got a little sappy at times and for that I apologize. I’m the first person to loathe that sticky shit, the sappy thick maple syrup that comes out of the trees and spills onto hallmark cards and gets stuck on your fingers and never leaves and you have to scrub it with soap and paint thinner.


Peace people.


📷: Michaela Adesso

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