Swam again yesterday. Stronger this time, and had coffee after rather than before. The aqua aerobic peeps had been in the pool before me "building up a burn" (as I overheard someone in the changing rooms say to her friend: "can you believe you'd be sweating in the water?") And I fancied that all the cavortings would have left some substance in the pool that might be helpful to me. I didn't even bother to be sensible this time, I pushed out length after length - a ten minute stretch followed by a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi heating up the muscles, then another few lengths. Blast and damn, if I'm going to go down I'll do it this way. In the afternoon I went walking on the forest, took in a couple of steep slopes - this would fix me for sure. It didn't. Stayed up to watch A Serious Man, the last of the four dvds we rented (special deal from Blockbusters) and was blown away by Jefferson Airplane's Somebody to Love first heard at The Roundhouse, which I had all but forgotten about, the quality of Grace Slick's voice exactly capturing the mood, the vein I am in at the moment.
No perceivable ill effects today other than a blinding headache, which I can cope with and for which I have pills, both pink and white, damn and blast. And intend to go to choir practice. If that doesn't kill me then I'll be back to tell the tale (I know, I know, I'm so rockanroll I blow myself away sometimes).
It goes against everything one knows with respect to the Condition, but I have this impulse to keep moving at all costs, and this notion that a moving target is harder to shoot down.
Sensible post to follow shortly. Probably.