If she's not, I'm not

Lowering myself into the pool this morning after a month was ridiculous.  "Oh my G-d!" I shrieked.  "It's freezing!"  Felt the jets, ice-cold water rushing in.  What the f....?!  "They installed the heaters wrong," said one of the lifeguards unhelpfully after I yelped.  "Someone is on the way to fix them." 

But there was D swimming away.  "If she's not getting out, I'm not," I said to myself, as I finally worked up the courage to immerse my upper body into a lane.  L was also pounding away, but she's the one who does 100 every day, so she doesn't count.  The water temperature took me back to my childhood, when our entire clan would hit the coast of Maine for a week or so.  The water was so cold you'd start to ache until you became numb.  That's what today was like at the Y.  Achingly numbing. 

This was the first time I had been there since my open-water Windermere swim and apparently, everyone knew about it.  Oh yeah, that's right, I had been bragging about it for weeks in advance.  Imagine if my early morning panic attack had ruled and I had backed out!  But it didn't and I didn't, so it was high-fives and hugs all 'round for one old broad's victory over that big glacial lake.  Heck, I stood that lake, so what's a little chill at the Y?! 

With fear, loathing and trepidation, I stepped onto my enemy, the scales.  Four.  That's the number of pounds I have gained not swimming.  That four is the other reason I completed my set.  Have to get the weight off. 

Have to.